Dirk Vekemans
Since 2005
Works in Kessel-Lo Belgium

PORTFOLIO (2)
BIO
born in 1962 in Lier, Belgium.
studied filology at Louvain, Belgium.

worked a lot in bars and restaurants before i became obsessivly addicted to producing stuff on computers.

i once won a design contest of cgi-magazine and they let me go to New York for four days, that was nice.

i think in terms of writing mostly (or programming, but those are very similar processes for me)

painting is a very different process and i'm very bad at it but i do it anyway because i like the differences it produces and i like the freshness of amateurism, i guess.

what i produce new media-wise is also very much influenced by my daily practice of webdesign and programming with its concerns of usability and the pragmatic approach it implies.

Discussions (292) Opportunities (0) Events (1) Jobs (0)
DISCUSSION

verjaardagskaartje - birthday greeting card


in het uur van de waarheid

sluiten we de ogen

en wachten tot het uur van de
waarheid voorbij is"

( <http://www.grapesofart.org/> iderden 2007 )

Neue Kathedrale des erotischen Elends
#init
sept 27 2004 @ 00:50

A Birthday Greeting Card
feat. Desert Hibiscus by Sheila E. Murphy
as played on the piano by its eadless author dv
&
ran through the paint2flv-VidioTingaT

http://www.vilt.net/nkdee/bloehusoem.jsp

"In the hour of truth

we close our eyes

and wait till the hour
of truth has passed"

( <http://www.grapesofart.org/> iderden 2007 )

DISCUSSION

[POETRY KESSEL-LO (POEZIE)] a certain deficit (going from fotosjop to painting)


Subject: [POETRY KESSEL-LO (POEZIE)] a certain deficit

<http://bp2.blogger.com/_V8vN7ueKGOc/Rul5nAGnksI/AAAAAAAABKs/I9ymochQfPg/s16
00-h/monadistEncounter.jpg>

Let's nag ourselves to sleep tonight. Just the two of us.

The bills are unusually high, our employment situation is
quite hopeless, it will soon be time to go dishwashing again,
or something other of that humiliating order. That is: in the
company of strangers we wouldn't dream of calling dishwashing
a humiliating activity, we mean, look at us, but since we are
all alone here we might as well have it out in the open.

Our aim as Cathedralic* Poultry engaged in the chicken run
of creativity can only be the encounter with ourselves.

The study of others, the Other, The Others or Whatever
is better done through traditional methods of science,
pseudo-science, never ending movie quizzes in Facebook
or the commercial exploitation of ephemeral knowledge
and social needs in the Arts. From these four fields (a certain
French philosopher with a bad name i can't remember names
another four but he is clearly mistaking playing movie quizzes
for politics, we can assure you there is nothing political about
playing these quizzes whatsoever) we may
derive money or pleasure or both.

What we may rarely get from them, those other activities we mean,
while being very rewarding in their own right is a certain feeling
for the eternal Deficit, a craving of sorts, the exquisite joy of
being able to torture yourself to near annihilation in the quest
for Beauty, or whatever you put at the end of your inevitably
delusional journey.

It's the oldest story known to the planet,
we find instructions for the procedure in Gilgamesh.
Try to find immortality, fall flat on your face, go back to 'Start'
you don't receive any bonus.

We should refrain however from using the term 'our true selves '
because, well, the what of what is seeing is identical to the what of
what is seen, as you can see here in an allegorical depiction
of a monadic soul in its rather shady zone of clarity, trying
to get a good look at itself.

Note that there is ample room for improvement, a further
stretching of the self however does look a bit awkward, we
might get sucked in an utterly destructive jump into the abyss of
looking into the looking of looking without ever getting to the object
of our looking again. Take care, it doesn't take that much to happen
you don't even need to be bipolar or a true schizo or whatever.

There is, it seems some validity in the suggestion that exactly that
is happening to large parts of the population, soap-wise, reality tv-wise
gaming-wise, although the performance of belief is a more positive
look at staring at a non-existent suspension of disbelief blabla is
my academic title still holding blabla ...as you can see that kind
of speculation does sound a bit unwise too, qua speculation
we mean, er, purely speculatively speaking of course.

Paradoxically, exactly that tempting jump inward might be required
to trigger consciousness in an artificially intelligent environment. Sure,
mere speculation, again but can't you just see the questions popping up
here, the what & where & the who preceding the inevitable
what the heck for. Because, referring to our Cathedral's First Restraint of
Recursiveness, namely that first level recursion is in general a Bad Idea,
but
second level recursion is Pretty Much OK, so if you have a system
evolving from the concatenated produce of one kind of consciousness
(ok let's assume for once there are more kinds of consciousness
that could be known to any one kind, that would be quite extraordinary,
hihi)
the initial init procedure for those thinking machines would darn well be
suitable
for the evolving machines as well.

Anyway, let's forget about the plot for our novel for a moment ( the novel
of course
is the plot as it unfolds into reality, so this may well be the closest you
ever get
to reading 'Anke Veld' , the most famous net novel of all time) and focus on
the poor
sods, the Poultry that we Really are.
But then. much to our dismay, we see that 'finally' the 'artistic' drive may
well be
exactly that what is required, in that supreme fiction of emergence. Darn.

It may well be exactly this tempting possibility that makes us go through
the
motions nonetheless, in spite of all the failures, the burning of our
predecessors
the bad health and tragedy inflicted by our precursors on our precursors and
all this
blind ego stuff looking for other ego's to eat alive, in spite of all that
sick ugly mess
we always seem to get stuck in. Exactly that, and of divine simplicity,
might
make us into what we are: two functions diving after a third that is still
rendering,
somewhere...

<http://bp3.blogger.com/_V8vN7ueKGOc/RumWaQGnktI/AAAAAAAABK0/1CKdaGsOyJk/s16
00-h/2functions_large.jpg>

'Two Functions diving after a third (Still Rendering)", dv 2007 Maries
Watercolours on paper

[dv:---] * Cathedralic: refers to the Neu Kathedrale des erotischen Elends
see <http://www.vilt.net/nkdee> http://www.vilt.net/nkdee

--
Geplaatst door dv op POETRY
<http://poetrykessello.blogspot.com/2007/09/certain-deficit.html> KESSEL-LO
(POEZIE) op 9/13/2007 10:42:00 AM

DISCUSSION

[POETRY KESSEL-LO (POEZIE)] Iapetus getting sick at is first fotosjop appearance


Subject: [POETRY KESSEL-LO (POEZIE)] iapetus getting sick at is first
fotosjop appearance

<http://bp0.blogger.com/_V8vN7ueKGOc/Rukr3gGnkrI/AAAAAAAABKk/tUMma43dZQs/s16
00-h/iapetus_spots.jpg>
the 'ink spots' on Iapetus 6 times filtered with
Polar Coordinates, added a 2 color gradient map
& doubled the layer with[dv:---] einen Difference mixung

There is no reality to posting data to the network
like there is reality to performing or playing recorded music

Any talk of flow is merely metaphorical.
That would include the sharing
bit you don't share anything you
add code to the body of code and
then you point at the running code
and say (to yourself mostly) hey look that's
when my head was thinking this or that
can you feel it.

No we can't. It isn't .
We get rendered code on our screens.

By and thru analogy we reconstruct a non-existent person
with a personal history and a list of accomplishments
and paste the running code on top of it. Your blackness
shines thru wonderfully at times, yes we do believe
you must be brilliant. Wow.

The shining of your absence is added to our vast
collections of indifference. Your moon, the one
you call Iapetus, after your Ovid, is apprehended
by our filtering procedures. As such.

You are so beautiful. We wish we could put our
hands were you could feel our warmth. We wish
we could turn you on like your absence is
disturbing our equilibrium. Ever so gently.

We love you just the way you are.

Please share more of your time with us.
We will make mining you worthwhile.
Do suffer, yes, do.

Suffering is very rewarding in the end.

Thank you.
Thank You
& U too.

Yes.

--
Geplaatst door dv op POETRY
<http://poetrykessello.blogspot.com/2007/09/iapetus-getting-sick-at-is-first
.html> KESSEL-LO (POEZIE) op 9/13/2007 05:23:00 AM

[dv:---]

[dv:---]

[dv:---]

Hey that's 3 times! Oh dear perhaps another birthday coming up.

Contributions to POETRY KESSEL-LO (POEZIE)

sent your poetry to vilt dot kessello at blogger dot com

(jahwol blogger.com und garfeldt nicht blogspot dot com
as was previously coded somewhere these are very trier

poultry making this u know, expertly sid indeed)

DISCUSSION

DISCUSSION

a braque rantin to da future (for Oscar Pastior) grey widda pastiness


Esctce quon
newtOn ici?
DRAWIN?

Brrenstine?

Da gute Goethe?

Der alte hakselfleish? Himmler uber brelin mit
kennotdie da bubby jay euf vampire-slayn?

Neu? Ingetinge?

Anyweu:

Iffa u newt wadda pastiness means u wina da big price da big price is u
madamay re-adit again

[dv:---]

[dv:---]

O

Toi tpoi toi toi toy

Mi u tut ut meust joy

Euf thingeternita

Toi,

Eau duchampsilselysee
comment vatu ma petite
mignone cote dazur rose?

Et ta pepe?

Je vient de voir pourras la premiere riviera
la granda mez we'r in

Onnafacebook uef all hinga's

mannawoman!

Quitsabasha!

Eurkoqua longa!

Mi eadless eart is wassa suld
immedia mac luhaneqist ne me kittelpqas

Iminna leuf
imminnall shoooook up
mipanta'ssnappingthehoze back

I turna nostalgica metallica nosferatu too

itsa beau beau I meanna b e a u

Tifull the end has never looked more endish asin asin

Oooooooo

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrr her eyas

G.L.O.R.I.A er eyas are all
L.A.N.G.U.A.G.E A.N.D.C.O.D.E.A.N.D.P.U.R.E.N.U.M.B.E.R
da.m.n.ed.and WELL codeD too

Argh swords failke me akin OPTENIEF

Hera ear letta alla da people peneolpeope
too yeds da omer le grand Omer qui venez chercher
la Gaz a