Around that time van Hanegem entered my life
through other artists of the scene at Lokaal ooi (Room
ooi). There was talk about a band by musicians that were
called Big Bam Boozle. I liked the idea. In the following
week Ab called me and we started talking about another
speech act in Breda's central white church, where a huge
Velasquez painting commemorates the surrender of city
by the Spanish general Spinola, handing over de city's
keys to the Prince of Orange.
Van Hanegem, who hit Breda in 1979, looked like a
rocker in those days. Thick dark brown rasta hair covered
a large part his face. A velvet corduroy jacket gave his slim
torso a tight look. Close fitting stone-washed jeans over
impeccably polished snake-leather boots, conveyed the
general impression of an accurate man, that knew exactly
what he wantedIn that phone call Ab asked me about
the money. HOW much money did I want? I told him the Dalstar and Van Hanegem in front of Domburg church tower, spring 2001
standard amount, that I had gotten in Rotterdam: 1000
guilders (about 500 euro's). "That's a lot of money for a starting poet", Ab said. I agreed. I had gone through the argument
with other visual artists before. The problem with artists is, they hardly read enough to be able and value literature.
So they stick to prejudice that a strong image says more than a thousand words. Sometimes in top art this may be true,
but more often it is not. Referring to the mafia competition at the Beyerd, I proposed to be in paid in pockets of pure
cocaine. Now Van Hanegem was flabbergasted. I never did the act. By then he had been in a group show at the Willem II
Royal Stables in Tilburg. Twenty five years later I saw the pictures of a squatted Breda gallery with a glass front.
Run down bicycles were parked against the glass. Inside hung a number a slipshot handmade messy paintings. What
struck me were the careless painted architectural forms, the sloppy orthographic alignment of buildings, the casual
vanishing perspective. Graffiti was the fashion image of the day. Studied female bodies, one liner advertisements, a few
lyrics. Pop culture. At typical opening around a table, young males drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. Empty bottles.
Chatting girls in a corner. Maybe one of them was the artist Marieke van Diemen, who was in Van Hanegem's class.
Visiting parents in front of wooden furniture and wainscot. A ladder leading to a student garret, in which three males
pose with guitars. The attic is studio of Tout Le Bus, a rock band, in which Van Hanegem played bass guitar. Some of
the paintings were sold or just given away to friends. Others are still in stock today.
And then it happened. Two mafia types walked
into the museum with a big old fashioned suitcase and
mounted the spiral stairs where Bijl and I drank a
sparkling prosecco. Without a word, the two men opened
the suitcase, showing off their hands, expensive golden
watches around their wrists. Fingers covered with
monstrous rings holding glittering jewelry. They left
the suitcase on the floor, gave us a bad look en vanished
the same way they had come. From within de suitcase a
huge hogshead stared at us. I was flabbergasted, but
Bijl said: "Don't worry. It's just another warning from
the Breda underworld sport school scene. I should have
asked the competition to stage this gym instead of doing
it myself. The hogshead means I will hav e to clear out
the installation by mid night tonight."
As the years went by, I could understand Van Hanegem's reluctant attitude to talk about the early years of his career.
At a birthday party, during the early winter of 2004 for our mutual painter friend Bart Domburg in the Tillsiter Bar at
Friedrichshain Berlin, Ab had commented on the influence of painters like De Kooning and Pollock in his Breda years.
I VII
Panorama on Heemskerck 2011
26 j acrylic on canvas, 104 X 286 cm
collection artist
