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Edition no. 4 May 2013

Editorial entry After a long rest, we finnaly pick up where we left! A lot of things have happened in the studio of BaSe Art, next to the preparation of this issue. But more can be found there, so let’s see what we can ramble on about here We have three new contributors for you to see and read and ponder about. And an exerpt from a book somewhere...and since this is the last piece of the issue that I have to write right now I find myself running low on juice so without wasting all too much characters on this nonsensical introduction again, my suggestion would be to just start reading on the other page. However, I have to say this about the issue; Enjoy!

Contents Neither Alive or Dead by Danielle Frenken

pg. 3

Out of the Shoebox by BS Szűcs Dead Man Walking by Raiyel Misery

pg. 13

Cranes by Danielle Frenken

pg. 21

Starting Young by Lisette van Oostveen

pg. 23

Dead Man Walking - Two Shots by Raiyel Misery

pg. 29

Texts to Texts Enjoy - Exerpt by BS Szűcs

pg. 31

FRATRES (voor adem en nood) by Lisette van Oostveen

pg. 35

I Wonder by BS Szűcs

pg. 36

The Contributors

pg. 37

pg. 19

How to sign on: Since the goal of this e-zine is to become a platform for artistic experimentation and the publishing of (not necessarily) dormant works our goal is to make application as easy as possible. Besides there is also the dependence on contributors for the coming issues. Send an e-mail with personal info and the material you want to get published to: or join on Facebook: BaSe Art and Photography About intelectuall property in the issues - All the images, writings and created content that are published in this belong to their respectful author and are stated next to the title of their articles. - No materials will be used without the permission of their owner. - No materials will be published in their final form without the approval of the owner of the affected materials, unless prior arrangements are made concerning the use of those materials.

Neither Alive or Dead by Danielle Frenken I use different types of media with which I attempt to conjure up a mysterious, dreamlike world where time seems to have stopped. A place not quite surreal, but not quite familiar, an image that signifies the duality of Nature. The animals in my art are neither alive nor dead, but exist somewhere in between. They’re often chained to their environment, or frozen in their posture. It seems as though there is a clash between culture and nature, or to be more specific: between the symbolism, the industrial, the animal and its habitat. Animals exude something nostalgic but are caught in the web of the modernistic world. Drawing my inspiration from my fascination for animals and the centuries-old stories that accompany them, many animals seem to radiate something spiritual.

“The animals in my art are neither alive nor dead�


white pencil on black paper, A4 2012


pencil on paper, A4 2013


collage photoprint, 2013

Though the animals may be breathless, they still whisper their own stories. Creating my art resembles writing a story by assembling parts, the joining together of elements that give them meaning, and their relation. Parts functioning in the diversity of possible combinations, which in turn creates other meanings. It isn’t a reflection upon the world, but a recreation of that which already exists, where one thing is never disconnected from the other.These animals are neither the beginning nor the end of the story, but that which is in between. Just as science let’s itself be demystified, so is my work intended to mystify.

“one thing is never disconnected from the other�


mixed media 2012


collage 2013

Tower of Animals

mixed media, 2012

another dimension

mixed media in dome, 2012

Out of the shoebox by BS SzĹącs

Untitled Shoe #1

Untitled Shoe #2


It’s the drop I feared. Not for the boat or me. But for the solution that I wanted to drink.

Dead Man Walking


Raiyel Misery

A cold hollow wind howling in the eternal depths of a hollow night. This journey led me astray,those are the words that haunt the vortex of my own fractured mind. How could i befall to such a self-entitled righteous fate. I woke up this morning in a city seemingly unfamiliar.The curtains closed and not a shimmer or sparkle was shining the beauty of it’s marvellous light onto a corner or dead end in the dark that held this city. I try to recall the vague endeavours of the passed few nights. Snippets of tits,lace and some rope cross my mind,along with a nice few pints,scotch and some broken bottles. I look down only to find my broken nuckles and some bruises around the wrists. A night full of, if honest,fun as it turns out to be. A normal man would head home, but that’s not what i am. Am i? I fear i am not. This is the tale of a man that gave up on a godforsaken world. Surrounded by morbid minds,tainted by greed. How could one possibly have faith in anything? After witnessing a fair but small ammount of decades on this demonised globe...i gave up. Not for that i wanted to die,not that my way of thinking excisted in a structure about ending my own life. I just gave up on a world in which we state more value to pieces of silver and gold,yet not to that of a young womans life? Or to the boy crawling the streets as foul vermin while the boy’s original fate could have been a warm family and house. Or the true

romance lingering around in the sincere hearts of young untamed lovers. This world is morbid,fractured,shattered and broken frame of it former self. Yet we state that tormented souls are not tormented. We blame them for being broken and crushed by the moral laws and illusions we force them to live by. We create a hollow,fake construction,perception of what reality is within the walls of our own minds,every one of us,individually. And then paint them to others and forcefully destroy their own ways and perspectives. Only so that we may dominate them and others. We now dare to call it freedom. We dare to call ourselves alive. Yet we are the ones cut out from our emotions. Our hearts locked in the coffins that we call the will of others. What is thy bidding my master? The world is dead. Yet i find myself here full of substances,violence and a small recollection of pleasures of the flesh. Clothes that look like they’ve been to hell and back try to cover my bruised and damaged vessel. I am a sinner. The world is dead I thought. For i find myself wandering the dark alone. Ironicly thinking: “Dead Man Walking”

Cranes by danielle frenken

The cranes’ beauty and their spectacular mating dances have made them highly symbolic birds in many cultures with records dating back to ancient times. The crane was usually considered to be a bird of Apollo, the sun god, who heralded in Spring and light. The Japanese refer to the crane as ‘the bird of happiness’, the Chinese as ‘heavenly crane’ believing they were symbols of wisdom. In ancient China the crane was regarded as having a long life span and one Chinese legend says that an immortal rode a crane to heaven. The powerful wings of the crane were believed to be able to convey souls up to paradise and to carry people to higher levels of spiritual enlightenment.

‘Crane bird’ Aquarel, gouache, fineliner, ink, pencil on paper, 50 cm x 65 cm, 2013

Starting young by lisette van oostveen My name is Lisette, and I’m a visual artist. I dont remember when I started painting, honestly I dont even remember why. I liked being creative as a kid, making random things out of paper and abusing my moms photocamera. I knew I wanted to do something with drawing and painting when I grew up, only thing was that I never had the dicipline to teach myself the techniques. I was very lazy, sitting all day behind my computer screen playing games. I would only draw when I really felt like it or when i was really emotional about something. I used to watch paintings from others and be like: ooh I really want to do that too! Knowing I would probably never do it. I became interested in art school, I really wanted to go there! but I knew I didn’t have the talent yet and first I had to finish school. In school I had art class, and that’s where I learned to paint a little bit, I learned not to give up when something doesn’t work out as you want it to. I liked the lessons so much, I started going to the class after school to keep working on my paintings. Around that time I learned about the art of anolog photography, I bought a 2 euro camera and started shooting around. It’s very exciting because you don’t know what the photo’s will look like untill you get them. I accidently shot two photo’s at once without noticing it, and it turned out really abstract. My boyfriend once asked me if I wanted to make a video about him doing parkour, and that’s when I started experimenting with film. Now, I finished school and i’m going to do Graphic school next year, and honestly, I still dont know what I want to do in life. I will keep on doing what I love, hoping it’ll get me somewhere. I learned its ok not to know every technique, not to have disipline, art is about showing yourself or trying to send a message to the world. just be as honest and true as possible. Art already existed when it wasn’t even invented. Art is everywhere around you. You don’t really need art school to make art, you don’t need to know every artist in the world to be one. Let everything you see inspire you and take your time to create your own style.


This piece I had to make for a school assignment, but as I worked on it it became more personal. Without noticing it it became some kind of surrealistic self-portrait.

waves: days in wich thunder does not seem to shake the ground and your strings echoing weak penetrates a loss If I was the father of the gates of heaven I had this long closed scattered liters mud over the souls grab my strong hand for those who get out there is still a little hope left.

Sinkhole (Dark Matter)

1985: Mount Osutaka I made this piece for my boyfriends album 1985: Mount Osutaka. Its about a man, who hopes to find a better life on his destination. He gets on the plane from Benidorm to Japan, but on its way the plane crashes near Mount Osutaka. chaos, panic is everywhere, and as the man crawles away from the accident, he slowely dies. in his last moment he starts to see the sky change and the grass becomes blue.. then, he’s gone.


this is a still from the parkour video I made with my boyfriend. It’s called RISE and it shows parkour in a more artistic way than is shown these days.

Dead Man Walking - Two Shots


Raiyel Misery


ell, here I am, sitting in the kiddie pool at the sports center. Figured, if I can’t write while sitting at the bottom of the big boys pool I might do that while sitting in here. Fuck, I’m an idiot. Got myself,

once again, in a financial situation that steams near unsolvable through honest means. It is even so bad that

I have sent out a resume to good ol’ McDonald and his farm. I figured that should have been the normal way to start out, right? So, it seems I even have some babes joining me in the pool now. Both at the eager age that must be 10. Now all I am missing is a glass of bourbon. But soon, I will go home. Make something edible out

Balázs S.

of the potatoes in theSzűcs closet. One day I will create an ode to those damned tatters. The chicks have exchanged themselves for a higher class ware. Now I have two top range six year olds frolicking around. They will also

leave soon and all that will remain will be my non-existing whiskey, the brainstorm about tatters and soaking like a pickle in the kiddie pool.




Born in Hungary, weep for the next generation. We went for a beer and such, to get together with more people on the go. living in the With the first stopfor at our friendly ever present neighboring pub, where we found a barmaid hornier Netherlands more than 15 than …. oh well, I don’t know... she was just flowing al over the pool table. We scrambled in quite a haste, years now. He followed Art mostly so that we wouldn’t laugh our asses off in muteness, secondly to protect the innocence of one Education and among us against the horny. Documentary Photography in Utrecht. Off we were, down to the next watering hole: the pop-o-matic. With the only excuse to be, meet a few Most of through his the ticketing and scored our, once again, first beer. The high table offered its self as more. We ran experiments are a safe heaven, justlight in front of, or behind, the “crowd”. Like this we could see what we were up against. It about the surrealism of one of us had to say it. Did the vibe change, were we hanging around for too long didn’t take long before life. Mainly by {already}? Was it just the crowd of that night? We felt old. combining photography The disturbing thing and about this is, that we were all in the lower 20 and the youngsters around us were text. maybe 4-5 years younger than we were, tops. But nevertheless, what we saw was still innocent at hearth. Most of these faces have never seen the bellows of a drinking frenzy. Have never been to bed with the intention to really play. Have never stolen a bike for survival or climbed a forbidden wall. Not that we would like to advocate the freak side of life. But still, it gives some experience to stroll through

the mud once in a while. Something to fall back on if the first big stupor passes you by on the street. Or is the world beginning to favor the more innocent among us?


Barn swallow milk


’m not a smoker, but this was comfortably needed. Even if it didn’t do anything, no godly catharsis as a symbol for my departure. As a matter of fact it didn’t last very long either. Not that it matters, it suffices for

what it is. I have no beer or anything else on me. Just a shot of Unicum, but that I can’t manage. Only a glass of gold and goat-horned barn swallow milk could give the...right punch to end it right. Nothing wrong with that. We leave and that’s it. As if the movement of our mass didn’t happen. Or a mass just did happen and we are still sitting in the row of benches, flabbergasted, waiting for the blessing of our favorite clergyman. But even the incense has been burned up and the spiders are back to repair their webs that have been wiped from the faces of the old fresco’s. We won’t have to celebrate before tomorrow. Down a couple of beers while the furniture move them selves into their homecoming corners, and the auxiliary verb where it wants to. Life burps once more and some other clichés come around. Eat banana and you will see better, or just carrots.


Spicy Delight


ately, for a couple of years now, I got hooked on a bit more spicy world of tastes. This, as we know is all well and nice, especially if we consider my well trained intestinal flora. Still, one perverse delight of this is

when for a time not. To be more precise, when after not comes the few days of yes. Readjusting to those tastes. Happily welcoming the Tabasco and Red Gold. But this is just one part of it, since we don’t always dine alone. Even when more often than...oh, skip this jabber. To share the joy of new combinations in flavors in discovery. To ripen the experiences that we neglected with the wind of change. Then the big moment comes and the primrose blooms again. Sitting above the water while the scolding frostbite is all that remains behind my excrements. Have an enjoyable evening.


FRATRES (voor adem en nood)

lisette van oostveen photography by Joline van Oostveen by

mijn zelfklevende realiteit word gevoed door het anarchistische rondreizen in mijn geest. mijn thuis weet zich altijd te verstoppen in een of ander gebouw met ingevette dunne ramen. dat ik ronddwaal zonder schaamte het doet me niks meer ik dirigeer de wind verwoestend tegen het krot van verlangens mijn adem komt niet tot rust niet in abstracte vorm niet in het diepste van mij mijn hoofd begrijpt al niet meer wat het zojuist heeft meegemaakt kennelijk is de tijd nog niet gevallen en draagt geluk nog een miezerig schild.

I Wonder... by BS SzĹącs


Danielle Frenken A Visual Artist who has been taught in Utrecht at the Art Academy. She is also developing educational programs.

Raiyel Misery writer, songwriter musician with a distinctive look and high aspirations. twitter: RaiyelMisery

Lisette Oostveen A young artist now joining the ranks. Facebook and Soundcloud: Orange Rebellious Bird GlimlichtÂ

BS SzĹącs Staff photographer of BaSe Art and Photography and main editor of NoGli.





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Nogli No.4  
Nogli No.4  

The Fourth Issue of NoGli. Featuring Danielle Frenken, Raiyel Missery and Lisette van Oostveen