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Key to the city
Read my lips Page 11
Will the real Jesus please stand up Page 13
Norbert Nadler comes to Holland
West Bank Uri Leventer Jerusalem. A European citizen was wounded during clashes with Israel Defense Forces and border police at an anti-fence rally near the West Bank village of Bil’in.
It’s a beautiifull sunny day in the coutry-side when the ‘great’ Norbert Nadler declares The Netherlands ‘Open for bussines!’
Mon-o-graph: A scholarly piece of writing of essay or book length on a speciﬁc, often limited subject This newspaper is an alter-media: A form of communication that allows me to alter a message depending on the audience and inﬂuence opinion directly.
I chose the format of a newspaper because it is a throwaway medium, showing only a snapshot of reality. To emphasize that all ideas are to some degree recycled, much of the content is adapted from existing work in one form or another. People can, in principle, adapt to any social environment by
Photo: Chaja Hertog
assimilating appearance and behavior. Norbert Nadler is the ideal citizen for any society. But what is good for society is not necessarily good for the individual and vice versa. The superﬁcial act of integration might be poetically correct, but without regard for intent or origin it has no value in and of itself. Without context an image
is devoid of meaning, waiting for a story to tell. - Nir Nadler ‘That structs and frets his hour upon the stage A and then is heard no more. It is a tale T told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing S’
Facial recognition camera’s thwarted MY DECLARATION OF PRINCIPLES
by van Gogh. Amsterdam. Recent trials with facial recognition cameras ran into problems, when a man dressed as Vincent van Gogh crashed the system. A module of the system’s software occupied with ear analysis ran amok, when it attempted to classify van Gogh’s left ear. The chief engineer used selfportraits of van Gogh to train the system. When a Monday morning sub-
routine stubbornly insisted van Gogh’s left ear could not exist, it got stuck in a loop.
i will provide the people of this city with a paper that will tell all the news subjectively and honestly
i will also provide them with a ﬁghting and tireless champion of their right as citizens and as human beings
Norbert Nadler The Publisher Captured by a surveillance camera
The man, Norbert Nadler, said he ﬂew from the Netherlands to participate in the big demonstration against the construction of the separation fence. In an interview for Palestinian Television, his spokesperson R.V.Bloemgarten said: : ‘Building walls is not a solution for friends, neighbors or partners’. ‘Norbert was among the ﬁrst to tear down the Berlin wall and he intends to do whatever he can here. He will keep ﬁghting against the construction of this Apartheid Wall.’ Ismail Haniya, PA Prime Minister and leader of Hamas praised Nadler’s words and said: ‘When it comes to fences and walls, we should all learn from German history, and I am happy Norbert is here to remind us all’. He added that from now on, Nadler would become an honorary member of Hamas. A few hours later, Nadler appeared at an Israeli military base in a Jewish settlement in the West Bank. He arrived with a group of religious Israeli volunteers bringing the soldiers fresh food for the weekend. In an interview to an Israeli radio station, his spokesperson said: ‘He came here to show his support of these wonderful soldiers, who are part of the holy mission to protect this Jewish ground. Israel has the right to build the security fence and protect its citizens from terror and Norbert hopes that the construction of the barrier will soon be ﬁnished’
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At my service
Key to the city Illya Sofer Amsterdam. Mayor Cohen welcomes newcomer Norbert Nadler in Amsterdam ‘Stay true to yourself and you will ﬁnd your way.’
Served with every dish
Norbert with the mayor of Beelitz at the EEA opening exhibition
R.V.Bloemgarten Germany. On his summer holiday Norbert went to Berlin. Berlin is in Germany. Beelitz is also in Germany. Norbert went to Beelitz. Beelitz is a small village. In Germany. And also in Brandenburg. Brandenburg is in Germany. There were elections in Brandenburg. There were elections in Beelitz. Beelitz is in Brandenburg.
!STIMMT!STIMMT!STIMMT! And all the pretty people smiled: “That Norbert is the one for us!” !STIMMT!STIMMT!STIMMT! Norbert, Norbert he’s our man! If he can do it, you all can!
Everywhere Norbert went he saw pretty pictures of nice people. Norbert also wanted a pretty picture. Norbert is a nice person. Now all the nice people in Beelitz saw that Norbert was a nice person. Norbert shook the hands of all the nice people in the pretty pictures. Norbert had a pretty suit. Norbert had a pretty smile. !STIMMT!STIMMT!STIMMT! What Norbert said was always true. Norbert never disagrees with you. !STIMMT!STIMMT!STIMMT! And all the pretty people thought: “That Norbert is a clever guy!”
In a surprise meeting, Norbert was overheard complementing Mr. Dieter Browne on his attractive red cheeks and excellent choice of lipstick. When asked about the meeting, Mr.
Browne is alleged to have said: “Who was that man?” Mr. Browne neither denied nor conﬁrmed rumors about running on a combined ticket with Norbert. Mr. Thomas Waddin, Mayor of Beeltiz and close personal friend of Norbert, took it upon himself to introduce Norbert ofﬁciously to the good people of Beelitz. During the meet and greet Norbert clearly stated his intentions:”Stimmt”. When asked about the introduction, the good people of Beelitz are alleged to have said, “Who was that man?” The expansive relevance of public speaking is indicative of audiences joyous behavior illuminatingly illustrated by Norbert Nadler’s performance at an art exhibition hosted by the European exchange academy in Beelitz Heilstätten in Germany on September 11th, wherein his innovating speech, opening the event at the behest of the EEA’s visionary director, so breathtaking, so touching it moved all present to heights so great, our individualities merged into a communal soul
soaring high, beyond all sins of the ﬂesh, our unity as the second-coming: “This is not an election campaign, this stage is not a political platform, this is an art academy. I want to speak clearly, simply and honestly. This is a memorable day…for many reasons, it is a day to stop and reﬂect. But it is also a day to celebrate our humanity, our respect for each other. My words are not about power and control but about unity and cooperation. They are not about division and discrimination but about collabo-
ration and integration.” Yea verily, this Kozak house of healing’s ancient walls stood shaking, resonating sound and fury from Our Man’s empty discourse to the farthest reaches of the Land. The gathering roars her approval at the breaking of a ribbon red. Our Man, the mayor in hand, reveals that treasure trove of modern man’s imagination. Then gone, this hero of the spoken word, this hero of the pen, vanished from these Teutone ﬁelds. Then gone, this man who would be King.
‘[...] meet as many people as possible’
Illya Sofer A new star in the sky, Norbert Nadler has come to The Netherlands after a long campaign on European integration in Germany. Already Norbert has accomplished more during his short stay than many have in a lifetime. Welcomed by mayor of Amsterdam, Job Cohen, Norbert met with many prominent Dutch ﬁgures, held presentations in De Balie and the Rode Hoed and opened the Kunstvlaai. But who the f* is Norbert Nadler? Norbert’s origins are a wellkept secret. Rumored to be the son of Bulgarian Jews that ﬂed to Israel through Italy. No secret is his sudden rise to fame after last year’s successful European Integration campaign, leaving Germany sprawling at his feet. Analyzing his demeanor can only lead to conclude that his utter lack of identiﬁable characteristics might well be Norbert’s most distinguishing
trait. Norbert blends in to any political or cultural context. His matter of fact absorption into his surroundings has won him everyone’s hearts. Norbert giveth and giveth, showing people what they want to see, a better me. By doing so, he inadvertently becomes the mirror opposite of the late Pim Fortyn, whose performance presented people a better him. In recent years, Norbert lobbied to put the increasingly hot issue of integration on Brussels’ political and public agenda. Norbert ís integration incarnate. Absolute assimilation as a magic wand bridging the divide in ethnicity, nationality and identity. Yet, Norbert does not seem to make any political statement. However strange this may seem, Nadler’s campaign may well be the most apolitical to date. Beggaring the question: what are this mysterious ‘integrator’s’ motives to blend into his surroundings? What is he trying to accomplish with this crusade? Is Norbert’s anthropomorphic talent the way to
a better world? Does he have messianic ambitions, or delusions? Are we dealing with a narcissistic personality disorder, a so-called ‘empty-shell’ syndrome? Or ‘patient zero’ of the post-human era, wherein only carefully crafted and controlled personalities survive the existential struggle. Is Norbert a media-mutant? Mandela or charlatan, the phenomenon Norbert Nadler has become a permanent ﬁxture in our media, living rooms and in our minds. He makes us think about a world where mutual mutation could lead us away from ever-increasing political, ethnic, religious, cultural and socio-economic tensions. Norbert is almost too good to be true . . . A warning to closely scrutinize this Nadler’s movements and motivations seems prudent. Anyone managing to acquire access to the cultural, political and economic elite so fast, might well manifest as a foreign power’s Trojan horse. We all know what that could lead to.
Norbert tries on necktie
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Norbert with a Teutonic warrior
Staff: Publisher - Norbert Nadler , Chief editor - Nir Nadler, Art director - Chaja Hertog, Concept&Graphic design - Wouter van der Sluijs, Editor&Translator - Ruben Bloemgarten Mentors - Harry Heyink, Gijs Müller, Bert Taken, Rob Slooten and Yariv Alter ﬁn Writers: Yariv alter ﬁn, Ruben Bloemgarten, S.E. Bloemgarten (from Algemeen Handelsdblad June 16th 1971), T.F.T Bouwens, Suzie Delshadian, Pavel van Houten, Judith Hertog, Joris Kwast, Uri Leventer, Nadav Nadler, Nir Nadler, Yossi Peretz, James Renier, Marc Schrool, Mark van Soest, Maya Shalev, Illya Sofer, Bert Taken, Mark Weddin, Albert Wulffers, Sam the Pinguin, Father Pinguin All articles marked * translated by Ruben Bloemgarten Photography: Diederik Boel,Chaja Hertog, Harry Heyink, Nir Nadler Noa Segal 3D art: Uri Halell
After a successful campaign in Germany, European ‘integrator’ Norbert Nadler at last arrived in The Netherlands, where he received a warm welcome by Job Cohen, mayor of Amsterdam. In Amsterdam’s city hall ‘newcomer’ Nadler and Cohen met in a friendly, informal setting, where they talked for about an hour about politics, citizenship, art and integration. In the past couple of years, Norbert Nadler has been campaigning for integration in several countries with governments, media and events. He had never visited Amsterdam. Probably because the city has the reputation of being so multicultural. A reputation it has earned thanks to the many ways to integrate or not to integrate. Norbert might not have known where or how to start his integration. During his conversation with Cohen, Norbert asked the mayor how to go about integrating in Amsterdam. The mayor, who can be seen as somewhat of an immigration specialist himself, told Nadler not to worry too much: ‘You have to meet as many people as possible. The more kinds of people you meet, the more you will learn about integra-
tion. Walk around, talk around and you will be surprised by all these differences.’ Nadler was fascinated by the open and friendly way Cohen provided him with campaigning advice. In reply to Nadler’s question on the subject of leadership, Cohen said ‘[…] leaders have to learn how to manage the truth, without lying. ‘ Symbolizing the key to the city, Nadler was given a necktie and shown how to wear it ‘the Amsterdam way”. R.V. Bloemgarten, Norbert’s spokesperson had this to say about the meeting: ‘Cohen’s hospitality touched us all greatly. Norbert hopes he can reciprocate in the not too distant future. Cohen’s ﬁght for emancipation for all the people in his magniﬁcent city, serves as an example to us all, his bravery in the face of adversity inspires those less fortunate among us to persevere and ﬁght for their dream. A dream of advancement for themselves, for their children and for their children’s children.’ The climax of the meeting was the signing of an ofﬁcious statement in which Nadler thanked Cohen for the opportunity to meet and Cohen wished Nadler the best of luck on his journey around the world. Nadler said his meeting with the Mayor was one of the most enriching experiences of his life. The mayor concluded: ‘that is exactly why you are here!’ Nadler thanked Cohen for this opportunity to meet.
Mr.Prime Minister Good Morning Minister,
Not a black man
At age 17, I was forced to leave my country. I am now 26 and would like to explain to you why I had to come here. Nine years ago, my government arrested a writer and journalist on the suspicion of espionage and sentenced him to death on three counts. In jail, awaiting his execution he wrote a letter in which he said he was being tortured and in fear for his life. It was very dangerous to have a copy of this letter as the regime in my country said this journalist had left the country, even though he was held for execution. Someone I knew had contacts with artists and intellectuals and obtained a copy of this letter through them. Having lived under the oppression of this government all my life, and being an angry 17-year-old a friend and I decided to try to help this journalist by spreading his letter. Unaware of the danger involved, I copied this letter many times and started handing them out at schools, universities and sports clubs. After a while the secret police found out what we were doing and arrested my friend. His mother warned me just in time enabling me to ﬂee the country. According to independent observers and even some governmental institutions, this letter has played a vital role in stimulating dissent and protest against censorship and the totalitarian regime in my country. The secret police has instituted many repressive measures in attempt to halt the spread of this letter. At the time a normal punishment for being caught spreading this letter was arrest, torture and death. Only after pressure from the international community, the regime was forced to let the journalist go free. When this happened, the letter was
published in German, Dutch, French, English and Swedish newspapers. This and continued efforts by dissidents in my country ﬁnally led to the world knowing about the situation in my country. I was on the run for about one month when I ﬁnally arrived in The Netherlands on a cold night in February. I was immediately detained by customs who offered me something to drink. This turned out to be my ﬁrst cup of coffee, its bitter taste I will never forget. I am ofﬁcially labeled an asylum seeker. I was sent to an asylum seekers camp in Haarlem where I stayed for two months, after which I moved to Amsterdam and started learning Dutch. After a year, I started studying and hope one day to be allowed to become a Dutch citizen. I am now in my third year at the Rietveld Academy and in my ninth year in The Netherlands. My residence status is still undetermined; I will even have to reapply as an asylum seeker, having been here for nine years now. I have lived here all of my adult life and truly feel like I belong. I want the freedom to think what I want to think. I came here from a religious country, a theocracy. I do not want to be forced what to do and what to think by any kind of ideology. Like a sugar cube dissolving in water, like a cube of ice, melting and becoming ﬂuid, ﬂexible like rubber and tenacious like a cockroach I adapt to my surrounding trying to survive. Mr. Prime Minister, how many more asylum seekers have to come and how many more parents have to lose their children before we realize how truly vulnerable a refugee is.
You know that migration is the characteristic of birds. Do you remember wild geese? What about swallows? Swans? And birds whom we know not the names for. There is a bird that lives in the north and south poles. But it walks instead of ﬂying. I mean the penguins. Did you realize that they too migrate. In that polar cold the penguins walk collectively; they travel to the places where the sharp claws of the sea-lions and wild sharks are far away. But it is only the human being that travels alone. Do you realize why? Did you ever consider why the human being who rules the earth travels it alone? When it turns spring your dawn sky is the most beautiful it has ever been. It is enough to raise your head to see your sky. The birds above ﬂy in the shape of a V and if you look carefully you will notice that there is not always one bird that leads at its point. With each passing hour one leading bird comes along and replaces another. In their assembly of ﬂight the birds never become the prey of other birds. Only the solitude of the human being in the 21st century brings to mind the loneliness of the myth of Sisyphus. The two worlds of capitalism and socialism exist no more. However, the world has been divided into polar extremes of freedom and totalitarianism. A new scent for the human race. The solitary human who is caught traveling between these two worlds is still alone. The lonely man passes the mountain, puts the seas behind him, and at nightfall he crosses the darkened roads so that the border guards do not see him. But do you know how many of the young citizens of this earth become prey to the hunters of the mountain, sea, and night roads? How often must
they lose their lives until you believe that a free human being cannot live in a prison? Think about other people, at least! The world’s resources do not belong to you anymore. What difference would it make to you to share a little of your country’s resources with the migrating young people of the world? The young people who cannot bear to be caged in totalitarian prisons. Did you know that a proportion of what you consume in your country is produced in Asia and Africa? Mr. Prime Minister! Are you aware that the energy your country burns is produced in the Middle-East? Did you know that you have been importing the cheapest economic commodities and consumables from countries in Asia so that your people have fewer costs? Did you know that the laborers in your factories with their minimum wages have come from African and Asian countries? Are you aware that the most brilliant minds that are capable of creating new inventions, that can search the sky in your space stations, discover new stars, bring milky ways in front of your eyes, come from these growing and developing countries? At least let future generations say that you have seen penguins in your country, swans, wild geese, swallows. That young people ﬂeeing from the horror of the man-hunters, migrating from their homelands, those that who were not the prey of the hunters of the sea, mountain and roads; that they came to your land. And you Mr. Prime Minister have invited just these few individuals to your home for dinner!
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Cousins From the chronicles of Judith B. Hertog The day after the spring semester ended I ﬂew home to Jerusalem. During the ﬂight from Indianapolis to Detroit, I sat next to a young Palestinian engineering student from Illinois University. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘Israel, ’I said, ‘and you?’ ‘Palestine,’ he said, and we were quiet for a while.
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The kid, Ayman was his name, was on his way to Gaza to straighten out some family matters. He would stay the summer with an uncle and resume his studies in the fall. He told me about his family’s village, somewhere near Tel Aviv, which his parents had ﬂed during the war of Independence (or, as he called it, ‘The Big Catastrophe’), about Abu Dhabi, where he was born and raised, and about the US, where he now lived. He said he hated being Palestinian. That, he claimed, was the reason he couldn’t get a girlfriend. American girls either don’t know where Palestine is and don’t want anything to do with someone from a non-existing country, or they suspect him of being a terrorist. He told me of his deep love of guns, ‘with a gun I feel like a real man.’ And hard rock music, ‘I like songs about violence and killing.’ Although I was a little taken aback by his violent attitude, he seemed like a nice and polite 19-year-old. We compared Hebrew and Arabic words (kalb/kelev, beit/ bait, walad/yeled etc.) and showed each other family pictures: His mom posing in front of a fancy shopping mall, and my mom on her porch, framed by a stone arch that once used to be the doorframe of the
old Arab house; his uncle in Palestinian police ofﬁcer uniform, and my sisters in Israeli army uniform. We had to transfer in Detroit and got lost on our way to our connecting ﬂight. As we ran through the airport corridors, Ayman offered to carry my suitcase. When we found the boarding gate for our ﬂight to Amsterdam, it appeared we were not the only passengers on our way to the Middle East. The hall was ﬁlled with veiled women and men with black moustaches. My friend Ayman started pointing out everyone’s nationality to me, judging by their accent and hairstyle: Lebanese, Syrians, Jordanians, Egyptians, Iraqi’s, Saudi’s, Moroccans, Palestinians... ‘Do you see the woman with the white veil? She’s Egyptian. I hate Egyptians!’ ‘Do you see the two men in business suits? They must be Saudis. I hate Saudis!’ ‘Do you see the woman with the bleached hair? She’s Lebanese. I hate Lebanese!’ In short, he hated everyone, and Israel, of course, most of all. Ayman had grown up a second-class citizen in Abu Dhabi, had never felt welcome anywhere, and was angry at the whole world. When I asked Ay-
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T.F.T. Bouwens CNN’s veteran reporter Walter Rodgers stands by the door of his assigned ‘soft skin’ Humvee and loosens the strap on his ‘Kevlar’ helmet.
- Sam the Penguin * Not his father
A soldier from the Seventh Cavalry sits in the driver’s seat behind him, ready to burst into action should the Iraqis attack. I inhale deeply from my cigarette and sink back in the sofa, the camera pans left and a Cobra attack helicopter sweeps past, sending dust clouds into the air. I take a sip from my beer and Rogers beams at the camera, explaining how their armored column is perhaps the most forwardly deployed in Iraq: ‘John, I don’t think any of
man about his village, he did not remember the name and did not know exactly where it was. He drew a clumsy map of Israel. ‘This is Palestine,’ he said, then pointed somewhere between Tel Aviv and Herzeliya, ‘and this is where my village is.’ I recalled the new shopping center on highway no.2, where the IKEA and the Toys’R’Us are, and guessed that used to be Ayman’s village. Ay Ayman said he hated Gaza. He had once stayed for a few weeks with his family in Gaza city, and had found it too small and too crowded. ‘All I did for three weeks was watch TV and play pool with my cousins,’ he complained, ‘There’s nothing to do!’ Our ways parted in Amster Amsterdam. He had to ﬂy to Abu Dhabi to arrange a travel permit to enter Gaza through the Egyptian bor border crossing, and I ﬂew straight to Tel Aviv. I thought of invit inviting him over for coffee. Jerusalem is so close, just a 50-minute-drive from Gaza. But an angry 19-year-old Palestinian kid who says he likes violence will probably not get an entry permit. I will think of him when I drive past Gaza, and hopefully, when he gets his gun, he will remember that he offered to carry my suitcase.
Judge a book by its cover
- Father of the Penguin, citizen of the South Pole. Translated by Suzie Delshadian
us have ever seen anything like this before: live, real-time pictures of an army moving forward in a battle zone … We are,’ he explains ‘right at the tip of the spear.’ The Pentagon’s decision allowing a select group of ﬁve hundred journalists to ‘embed’ with their military during the recent war in Iraq opened up a new concept in war journalism. Rodgers was right; we never had seen live pictures from the front lines before and I reveled in my newfound addiction of television news. News was interesting again. I had grown bored of reports of refugees living in tents, farmers complaining about the weather and politicians shagging their interns. Suddenly there was something
actually worth watching: Real Live War. The war seemed to be going so well; I remember vividly the excitement in the room every time Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf, that Iraqi Minister of Information, came on the TV denouncing ‘that insane little dwarf Bush’, insisting the Americans would never reach Baghdad. There was a chorus of laughter around the pub as he persisted in his denials with US tanks rolling up the street behind him. No one can deny it made great TV and I can only hope we will see more of this outstanding entertainment in the not too distant future. People in the West seem afraid of war, desperate to disassociate themselves from what has been part of human nature since time began. Until the last war has been fought, we should embrace it, gossip about it and spread pictures around the world for all to see. Why settle for Steven Spielberg’s wannabee realism when we could be watching the real thing. I heard Ridley Scott was consulted by the Pentagon when they were discussing the concept of the embedded reporter. This is exactly the sort of thing we need. When will the next war start? I can feel the tension rising in my neighborhood. Only last week a young guy was stabbed to death on the train for getting involved in an argument. My car has been broken into twice and the amount of grafﬁti is getting out of control. The natives are getting restless and what better way to quench their thirst than a good old massacre, live on TV! I like my popcorn salted, how about you?
James Renier Amsterdam. A series of bomb threats forced the evacuation of Norbert Nadler’s ‘The Monograph’ ofﬁce. An anonymous caller told the Nadler ofﬁce they had an hour to ﬁnd an explosive device. The ofﬁce was immediately evacuated and a hermetically sealed book was found. The black linen book weighed almost two kilos. The book appeared harmless but the title ‘BOMB’ and its weight were cause for concern. A little under two hours later, a second bomb threat was called in and after an exhaustive search a second book turned up. These bomb-threats have almost become commonplace in recent weeks. The Monograph has instituted a Safe Premises Plan to instruct employees on the procedures to follow in case of emergency. ‘We urge staff to have faith in the system’, said spokesperson R.V. Bloemgarten, ‘Amsterdam’s anti-terror unit is aware of the situation, their K-9 unit is now permanently stationed in front of the building and local emergency services are on standby. I would also like to take this opportunity to speak directly to the bomber. Know this, Norbert will not be silenced. Norbert will not bow to terror. Norbert will continue to ﬁght for what he believes in. Norbert will rise to the occasion, stronger than ever. His resolve will not falter. Your feeble attempt at intimidation will backﬁre. Norbert wants to be your friend, but he will be you enemy if you make him.’ 55-year-old Henri N. was charged with making a false
report concerning an explosive device and has been placed in custody, according to chief of police Ed van der Bruin. Henri N. a bookbinder from North Brabant is suspected of involvement in other bomb threats and is currently being held for questioning. N. became irate after having been forced into retirement due to a slow down in book orders. As frustrations mounted, the bookbinder began binding books to be hermetically sealed. He wanted people to re-evaluate their relation with information in general and books in particular. When asked why Nadler, Henri N. said: ‘this is not about integration or immigration but about information. Mr. Nadler propagates a form of disinformation which will render all books obsolete.’ Henri N. reasoned that by threatening a multi-national organization’ […] I could swiftly bring attention to my cause.’ Bloemgarten: ‘The sinister aspect of these books is beyond belief. He could have hidden any kind of explosive device in those things. I have never seen anything like them!’
Bomb-book conﬁscated from the house of Henri N.
Cooking with water
Judith B. Hertog
Marc Schoorl *
A woman wrote an angry letter to the college newspaper accusing stay-at-home moms of betraying the feminist struggle: if smart, well-educated women become housewives, who will ﬁght for equality between men and women? I took it personally. She would probably blame me for not being more ambitious and for letting my husband be the breadwinner in our family. I never aspired to have a “career” or earn lots of money, but I do feel a bit guilty letting down the feminist cause. Instead of using my talents to become a feminist super-woman, I enrolled in an amateur poetry workshop. For years I felt that I should know more about poetry, but did not dare take a class. I was too embarrassed to face my ignorance. I found an informal poetry workshop for retirees. The average age in my class is probably around 70. Since they have already overcome petty ambitions and personal vanity, I feel I can share my poetic experiments with them without fear of ridicule. The other reason that I might feel more at ease with these older people is that we actually belong to the same generation: my father would have been the same age as their parents!
Family of the late pastor Martin Niemöller claims that a new poem, which was presented yesterday in the Berlin poetry festival, is an illegal duplication of a famous poem written by Niemöller. According to Yoshke Niemöller, son of the late pastor, the new poem ‘When I came for the Communists’ (see box) by a man named Norbert Nadler, is copied from his father’s famous poem ‘ﬁrst they came for the communists’. In an interview to the Associated Press, Niemöller said: ‘My father’s poem was written sixty years ago and today it is known worldwide. He wrote it as a criticism of the quiescence of German intellectuals following the Nazis rise to power. This ‘so called poet’ has turned it into something completely different. I would not mind if someone was inspired to write a more modern version of my father’s poem, but his new poem is obvious plagiarism and just does not make any sense’. R.V. Bloemgarten, Norbert Nadler’s spokesperson, said in response: ‘Mr. Nadler was indeed inspired by Martin Niemöller’s famous poem. However, he believes that it is the original version that makes no sense. He did not understand the behavior of people described in the poem and decided to write a new poem, a better poem, representing his personal beliefs’.
The sheer number of ingredients at a cook’s disposal these days boggles the mind. Agricultural and cooling technologies have advanced to such a degree, that, in developed countries at least, we can eat anything, anywhere at anytime. Mother Nature is being made a laughing stock on a grand scale. Seasons have even become an irrelevance: it is always summer somewhere. We have fresh young mutton all year round; strawberries and kiwis are always on the shelves and vegetables in all manner of shapes and sizes are available at any time of year. It is a bore. I have made my point. There ís still something not getting its due credit in this overindulged gastronomic age. I refer of course to the liquid without which we would not be able to cook at all: water! This colorless, shapeless substance: last vestige of nature’s chastity! Water cannot be bred, cultivated or grown! Go on down to the water shop, they really do exist, and get a good bottle of water. Here too the choice is overwhelming. If you have to, make due with tap water. Now . . . Get to work and enjoy water’s unadulterated purity. Back to basics!
itting in a coffee house in Jerusalem, looking at the great walls of the old city, I see each brick, heavy with history. Church spires rise above the walls and I can hear their bells ringing in the distance. New walls have been erected separating the Arab settlements from the Jewish territories. If you ask me, something deﬁnitely went wrong here: In the background, an Israeli folksinger sings: “They told me this was a happy place, before I was born”. In my head a different tune is playing.
Papa The phone kept ringing When I returned from your funeral. I thought it would be you, Laughing, Asking who had come, And if they’d ﬂattered you in the eulogies. But it was yet another friend, Whom I needed to console: His time was up, He was old and ill, Every life must end.
ﬁrst I came for the communists When I came for the communists, I said nothing; I was a communist. When I locked up the social democrats, I said nothing; I was a social democrat. When I came for the trade unionists, I did not protest; I was a trade unionist.
And I’m still, waiting for your call.
When I came for the Jews, I did not speak out; I was a Jew. When I came for me, nobody said anything. And neither did I.
- Judith B. Hertog
- Norbert Nadler
‘I saw myself on the television, I heard myself on the radio, I read about myself in the newspaper, I exist.’ (The friends of Natasha) ( artvertisement )
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His birth went exactly as the pregnancy preparation book described it; an easy birth without any complexes whatsoever. The nurses actually had to smack him on the face when he was born, just to make sure that he was alive. The neighbors would knock on our door every once in a while to ask if we had a baby at all. They remembered I had been pregnant but never heard him cry. In kindergarten, he was a silent boy and used to sit quietly observing his surroundings mostly staying close to the teacher. Nothing ever really changes. As a young boy, he already showed a need to be in center of attention. He was a good student as well; teachers loved him because he always gave them the correct answer or at least an answer they liked hearing. He followed the leaders of the group but never had a stable relationship with any of them, come to think of it; I cannot remember who his friends were. He never had a stable relationship with a wom-
he conﬂict between Palestinians and Israelis has haunted us for quite a while now, but more ancient than this is the distant memory of acceptance and brotherhood. It echoes like sweet music that never seeks to excite. It is not so easy to remember this melody in our daily lives here. When living in a state of constant war you become indifferent to your surroundings. Nevertheless, this melody has always ﬂoated around, almost inaudible. Jerusalem is at the heart of the conﬂict; you can actually feel the tension strongest in the old city, this monument to religion and war. The border is imaginary but impossible to miss by the many soldiers guarding the entrance to the Muslim side. I pass them every Saturday at noon on my way to restaurant Lina, which serves the best humus in town. Unfortunately, not many Jews feel safe to enter the Muslim side. Honestly, neither do I, but I do believe that it is important to overcome this fear. As a tourist, or at least looking like one, there is nothing to worry about. But that is not the point.
study eastern music in one of the oldest neighborhoods of Jerusalem, located at walking distance from the old city. My major is classical Arabic music. I believe the school to be an excellent example of the possibility of honest communication without masks or slogans. Music is enough. I see music as a symbol of love and understanding, an objective power that bridges differences and overcomes any obstacle, a universal language that links to all languages. It is mentioned in the kabala that when the prophets wanted to commune with the Lord they used music to open the gates of heaven. Who was here ﬁrst? Whom does god love most?
I an either, probably afraid to be hurt. As soon as his romances would get too serious he ended them. I think he started dating girls just because everyone else did and as you can imagine, he never wanted to stand out. His biggest passion was photography; he loved being photographed and whenever there was a camera around, there he was, smiling with the rest of the group, being part of it all. Probably his special way of proving his existence. I did notice that he was photographed mostly with teachers and very pretty girls, anyone representing authority to him. I feel a bit sad for him today, a grown man his age without any family or friends. We, his only family, are also not too enthusiastic about him. Of course, we are proud to have a family member appearing on the news and such; I just wish it were because of something he actually did. After all, newspapers are valuable today but tomorrow they might be used to wrap ﬁsh or clean windows. Whenever I read about him in the newspapers, it seems so inaccurate, not the Norbert
I know at all. I have reason to believe that he convinces journalists to write those lies about him. The years pass and Norbert always looks the same. The pictures in newspapers are not up to date, in fact, he is much older than he seems in those photographs. If his fans would meet him in real life, they would probably be disappointed. I guess that is the reason he never stays in one place for too long. He carries around the same small suitcase with a few fashionable pieces of clothing. Many people believe Norbert is nothing but a narcissist but I truly believe he is completely unaware of this, I also cannot believe that there are people who hate him; you can dislike Norbert but you cannot actually hate him; he does not threaten anyone in any way. True, he does not contribute in any particular way either, but he is mostly harmless. On the occasional visit, I never know what to cook for him and how to make him feel at home. He has no favorite meal, so we order pizza mostly. I do
think music was here before all of us; music always unites people. A melody is not concerned with race, sex or religion. It hits us hard, merciless, until everything is forgotten. I am positive that in their spare time Isaac and Ishmael had great jam sessions together even if they did not come from the same womb.
Mamalogue Nora Nadler
Aukje Dekker as herself
Recipe Ingredients: ± 1 l. water
Here’s to small differences.
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Other words belong here S.E.Bloemgarten * Dimitri Frenkel Frank wrote a play about a possible encounter of contemporaries Rembrandt and Spinoza. Nora Nadler
love him very much, after all, every mother loves her child, and I will always be by his side. The problem is, I never know which side that is. A night at the opera
Spinoza as a cold and lofty rationalist opposed to Rembrandt’s bible throwing rufﬁan is a construct which, in my opinion, completely disregards both men’s essence. Frenkel Frank does not help with his characterization of Rembrandt as a geriatric union-man and Spinoza as a humorless, pitiable
know-it-all. A Venetian countess, luckier with Rembrandt, reveals that Spinoza’s warnings against human passions are based on his child-like behavior in bed. I feel that Frenkel Frank maximizes banality to hide the absent content. Where composer Tom de Kruyf got his inspiration, mystiﬁes me. Opening the 1971 Holland Festival with his opera Spinoza, de Kruyf stayed so close to Frenkel Frank’s text that, at times, it seems the music is only a supporting act. The singers’ roles are vocally of little consequence, speaking
most of their lines, only adding to the ridicule of Frank’s rethoric and inane attempts at comedy. Tom de Kruyf’s instrumental composition sounds good, even excellent at times. This composer uses modern instruments with ease and his coloristic effects are charming and personal. However, the music seems unrelated to the action on stage. Nothing but praise for the performers of Spinoza. Many dignitaries attended the opening of the festival, mayor Samkalden nodded off through some of the opera.
No one shows up to open the KunstVlaai
Life is artiﬁcial Bert Taken * Quoting Horatio: ‘Would you wrest tears from my eyes, then cry’. He proposes that to have real inﬂuence, when you want to convince others, the audience’s hart needs to be touched. Rational arguments and sterile imagery will invoke very little enthusiasm, but inspiration and emotion will move a man’s soul. In art, Horatio says, man’s hart should be played like the strings of a violin: seductively. Seduction is a self-contained game of illusion; intent should not be looked for outside of the game. The fundamental pleasure is derived from the act of playing, following self-
imposed rules and accepting a ﬁctitious realm as true. The joy of make-believe. When one wishes to seduce, it is strongly recommended to introduce the other to a pleasant and inspiring world; an enticing world ﬁlled with promise and opportunity. The other has to be enabled to surrender happily to the proffered illusion. The game of illusion and appearance suppresses reality, as the true nature of things is less interesting than what could be. Playing this game elicits possibilities, creating a world of opportunity and double meaning. This world revolves around plurality; nothing is simply as it seems, but is mysterious and unfathomable. Uncertainty a source of inquisition and excitement. In the game of seduction, deception is intentional. It is a game of revelation and obscurement. Our imagination is truly engaged when the hidden allows a glimpse of its presence. Not the naked but the veiled is truly enchanting and seductive. The intellect is not imagination’s master, but it is the hart, refusing to analyze and reveal, wanting to be swept away and cherish the mystery of things. The true nature of things is not of paramount importance here, instead the magical suggestion
fascinating us is. Magic is not of the world of truth, but few will protest the vital role it plays in the game of seduction. The mysterious attraction something or someone radiates, suggests a hidden interconnectedness and the exertion of inﬂuence. You are touched in the hart precisely because of the special relation between the personal emotional existence and the other’s unicity. The unique is unique simply because it is wholly special and singular, which is the reason this relation is indeﬁnable. This special relation remains beyond the grasp of man’s intellect which is why it is magical; it is beyond determinable cause and deﬁnition. The game of seduction is a magical game. The world turns on appearance and illusion more than ever, to such an extent even, that it has become questionable what the world of truth now is. Our world has become one in which modern visual media incessantly bombard us with images deﬁning our perception of reality and attempt to entice us to new experiences and stimulate new fantasies. This torrent of images has made it impossible to differentiate clearly between authentic and media assisted experiences, between fact and ﬁction. Our experience of the world is media driven and speciﬁcally the visual media are the masters of seduction. We live in a universe of seduction. Not only in the arts are our emotions manipulated, our entire life has become artiﬁcial. What Horatio formulated as a rule for the arts has spread to all areas of life. Art is everywhere.
Mark Wedin ‘Thank you’. The crowd went wild. Another politician had won the hearts and minds of the people. The politician, in this case, was none other than city mayor, Job Cohen, giving a speech to open the KunstRAI. A week later, something called Norbert Nadler was also giving a speech, in this case, to open a real art fair: the KunstVlaai. It was not exactly clear who had invited Nadler, or how he had obtained the permits to speak at the opening of the art fair. As I am a reporter for Amsterdam Weekly —one of the event’s major sponsors— I ﬁgured I would ﬁnd out who exactly this character was supposed to be. With the look and smell of a politician, Nadler stifﬂy stepped onto the podium and began speaking into the microphone. He introduced himself and gave his somewhat dry political speech: lots of words and little substance. Art lovers ambled on the grass, wondering if anything would come of his speech. A few teenagers piddled around, waiting for him to stop talking so that the nearby punk bands,
who were lending Nadler their PA system, could begin playing. A full camera crew, along with a bodyguard and a personal assistant, swarmed around him. All this added to the effect —or illusion— that Nadler is someone of signiﬁcance. Only a senile old woman, smiling incessantly, and a few dogs playing nearby, seemed genuinely to enjoy the speech. Nadler proceeded to make a lot of vague statements. Much of it felt like material that could be recycled at any event: ‘The KunstVlaai stands for dialogue, for the exchange of ideas between different cultures. Crossing borders and overcoming barriers. It stands for learning and communication. The quest to ﬁnd a common language - a single voice.’ That is not at all what KunstVlaai stands for. Of course, those elements were part of it —exchange of ideas, learning and communication— but the same thing could be said at a football game or a convention for farming equipment. The only seemingly relevant statement that he made was a quote from someone else, Joseph Beuyse: ‘Everyone is an artist, and every artist is a politician.’ Near the end of the speech,
NN Senior and son before their speech
Nadler invited his father to the podium, who continued with more drivel —this time literally: ‘Ta tee tee ta. Tie ta ta tie. Tee ta tie ta. Tee ta. Tee ta. Oooooohhhh. Aaaaahhh.’ As far as I could tell, he was just another geriatric that enjoyed nonsense.
But somehow, his verbal twaddle was more enjoyable than Nadler’s. Perhaps this is because it sounded sincere. Ending the speech, KunstVlaai director Jos Houweling cut a ribbon with Nadler, ofﬁcially opening the art fair. That sight,
along with the media and personnel around him, gave the impression that Nadler is really somebody. However, the Beuyse quote suggests that he is trying to be everybody. If so, that would truly make him nobody.
good time. But, the ventriloquist we know today is nothing but a nightclub performer sitting on a stool with a wooden dummy on his lap. The Greeks said it best: ‘Ι γάν ςεε ιωυρ λιπς μωφε’. R: How do you feel about talking to an inanimate object? H: Without a puppet to talk to, I would look like a crazy person
talking to my hand. R: Why don’t you just get a mobile phone? H: Am I supposed to say something funny now? R: Only if you want to. H: An Irishman, an Englishman and Rabbi Smuel walk into a bar . . . R: Anyway, is there any relation between the doll allowing you the freedom to speak and what we now know as freedom of speech? H: The dolls freedom to speak is not the same as freedom of speech. The doll has the freedom to insult anyone without repercussions because it is essentially a piece of wood and as such is not accountable to anyone. Freedom of speech is not meant to allow everyone to insult anyone they want, it is meant as a guarantee to speak out without fear of persecution. Freedom of speech protects the expression of our thoughts from a dominant group. In a democracy this dominance is expressed by an elected government. Without it, there is only the freedom of silence. P: So! What? You want me to shut up?? M: No! Of course not. P: Then why do you stuff me in a suitcase all time? M: Well … P: Do you KNOW how lonely it gets in there? It’s dark and stuffy and I have nothing to read, even if had something to read, its dark! Why don’t you at least get me a nice little Judy doll to play with? That way I
can do something with all that wood! M: Because I wouldn’t want people to think I’m some kind pervert walking around with a moaning suitcase. P: Sensitive about what other people think are you? Is that why you always wear black? M: (laughs) I knew you were going to ask me that. P: You wóuld know that. I’m just pieces of oak stuck together. M: So you wonder why I always dress in black. Why you never see bright colors on my back. And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone. Well, there’s a reason for the things that I have on I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down. Living in the hopeless hungry side of town. P: For them? M: I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime. But is there because he’s a victim of the time. I wear the black for those who’ve never read. Or listened to words that Jesus said. Why you’d think he’s talkin’ straight to your and me. But I’ll try to carry off a little darkness on my back. ‘Till things are brighter, I’m the man in the black. P: As Johnny Cash used to say: ‘When you don’t have enough material, steal someone else’s.’
Read my lips
Metamorpose Maya Shalev
There is something not quite right about the desire to stand on stage talking to a miniature version of yourself. R.V. Bloemgarten interviewed ventriloquist Harry Heyink about ventriloquism and its signiﬁcance for modern society.
R: Mr. Heyink, what is a ventriloquist? H: Ventriloquism is a way to allow an artist to express himself without being exposed to the public. It allows me to break all moral conventions without being personally responsible. Some claim that possessed people mentioned in the bible were simply ventriloquist having a
Ever tried to dress up like someone else, to see how the world reacts to you? Well, Norbert Nadler does every day. By posing in different outﬁts, he wears new personalities and dances at all weddings. We managed to sneak a peak at his new spring collection, ‘Metamorpose’ Dress him like your favorite character and send him out into the world. Remember: Norbert likes the emperor’s clothes best! Suitable for ages 8-80
‘Ventriloquism allows me to break all moral conventions without being personally responsible. ‘
Tweeling / Twin
Dat ik een tweeling ben twee in één, zie ik bij het bekijken van mijn spiegelbeeld, niet alleen een man en een vrouw maar ook een appeldief en een edelsmid.
Can you judge a book by its cover? Pop-cipher Norbert Nadler says not only that you can but that you should.
That I am a twin two in one, I see, when looking at my mirrored image, not only a man and a woman but also an apple thief and a goldsmith - Salavador Hertog *, 1901-1989
With her With her I am no longer a whole I am a part of a whole How pleasant it is Part of a whole When I am alone I am a whole Round, lonely Quiet with myself She will wake up soon and think that I am someone else I wouldn’t mind at all - Nadav Nadler
His new project Biblelon redeﬁnes the landscape of holy tomes by elevating all manner of well-known texts to the level of scripture. Biblelon is a sculpture based on dozens of popular books, which Norbert has assembled into a tower of sorts, topped off with a wax efﬁgy of himself blindly swearing his allegiance to them all. You might think the list of titles includes the books that helped shape Nadler’s worldview, but in fact, he has not read any of them. ‘You do not need to read them to believe in them,’ said Nadler’s spokesperson, R.V. Bloemgarten. ‘For him, it is the title that matters, not the content. The medium is the message and Norbert Nadler is the messenger.’ Nadler’s tower of ‘bibles’ includes the expected religious classics like The King James Bible, Torah, Koran and Bhagavad-Gita. It also pays homage to any number of other churches: the church of science (with books by Einstein, Newton and Darwin), of philosophy (by name-checking Plato, Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, Confucius, and Heidegger) and canonized literary giants (Beckett, Kafka, Nabokov, Joyce, Shakespeare). Bybalon
Interviewing Mary is also open to the religions of self-help (with titles like How to Win Friends and Inﬂuence People and The power of positive thinking), mastery of knowledge and even war-strategies. This all-inclusive approach epitomizes Nadler’s me-too philosophy of life. ‘People make their own bibles out of everything,’ said Bloemgarten. Here he makes a statement not by saying anything but by saying everything. ‘A single book only represents one approach to the truth. How can you exclude the rest?’ Biblelon also conveniently solves nettlesome philosophical questions about the existence of god by embracing a new breed of hyper-polytheism. ‘If people believe in god,’ Bloemgarten said, ‘then god deﬁnitely exists. If other people believe in other gods, then those gods exist too. Atheism is also true, as long as Norbert can be part of it; he wants to reach everyone, so he believes in everything.’ The sculpture’s wax efﬁgy, which rests its right hand on the stack of bibles, emblemizes Nadler’s desire to swear his allegiance to all creeds at once, while at the same time transforming him into a life-like tabula rasa onto which people can project their own ideologies. ‘Anyone who’s anyone has a wax replica in a museum. It is a temple to fame and being there is how you become real. So Norbert Nadler wants to be there too.’
I met Mary on Carmel Mountain. Thank you for coming. Could you please tell me something about your fondest memory? During my life, I cherished one memory in particular. Undoubtedly, you know of the sudden death of my husband and son. I missed them so badly, at times it became unbearable, I would go to the beach and think about the wood workshop. How Joseph and Jesus played together. I loved watching them play. When she speaks she looks me straight in the eyes, but every time I try to focus on her face, it seems to blur. How did it feel when your son died? I guess it was meant to be. I accepted his death rather quickly. I did not have any anger or doubt in my heart. He died for our sins. Still, as holds true for every terrestrial mother, it hurts to hold you dead child in your arms. You often talk about yourself as a terrestrial mother. Are you trying to emphasize the fact that you are a human being? Yes, some people seem to forget that. I am no different than everyone else, made of flesh and blood. They should know they could be just like me. However, people are afraid. Afraid of what? Most people are afraid of commitment. They want to experience everything and at the same time believe in something in order to be somewhat happy. For that reason, it is almost impossible for them to achieve enlightenment. Was your life filled with beauty? Norbert Nadler’s personal assistant Chaja Hertog working on his face.
Norbert loves you
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Norbert Nadler is a phenomenon, this much I am willing to admit. An indeﬁnable character and a successful one at that. But... This success is exactly why I hate him. Given, hate might seem to be overstating it somewhat, but there is a Norbert in me you see, in you and everyone. This has been said before, of Hitler (Max Picard’s Hitler in uns Selbst – Hitler in Ourselves). Norbert surpasses him however. He inﬁltrates us as the true spirit of media. And yet, he is elusive, intolerable. But he exists and I can’t stand it. In an attempt to understand these troubling emotions, I spent weeks studying German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel’s Phänomenologie des Geistes. Hegel’s works are, as you well know, among the most difﬁcult in all of philosophic literature and after many hours racking my brain, I am not one iota wiser. Norbert Nadler deﬁes all categorization. He is a world unto himself and as such is beyond deﬁnition. He is Hegel’s ‘Ab-
Will the real Jesus please stand up
Pavel van Houten *
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Marc Schoorl *
solute Spirit’: absolutely free, vacuous yet all encompassing. Having just ﬁnished his Phänomenologie des Geistes, Hegel looked out the window and saw Napoleon horse riding through the streets of Jena. What do I see? A chameleon, a personality seemingly changing color and appearance at random? No, it is worse: he changes and his history changes with him! I admit to be no stranger to jealousy. Look, my world is Schopenhauerian Wille, I do, after all, work hard at my career. His is all Vorstellung, a life spun from dreams. You should know I am a journalist; I live by the grace of the medium. I am the messenger. I am what I write, or to be more precise: I am what is published. I derive the essence of my existence from my publications. But ﬁrst . . . I need to survive. I am, after all, a physical creature. I hunger, write to provide for my family and myself. I need to wash, shave and, to name but a random obligation, repair the odd bicycle tire. All in all, I need to endure the everyday banality of life. For god’s sake, I even have to write articles about this ﬁre, that kitten up a tree or yet another mind numbingly dull
council meeting. It’s all in the game, I guess. But Mr. Nadler, Mr. Norbert Nadler, this metaphysical apparition, is impervious to all this. To him, all this is nothing but a game. How infuriating! This man, this thing, this Norbert, can laugh, cry, be or not be at will. When pricked, he does not bleed. When tickled, he does not laugh. When poisoned, he does not die. He is impervious to all of life’s annoyances. The conquering hero of life on page four, even better (or worse!) life in the headlines! Everywhere he goes he is the center of attention, the center of his elusive universe! The world revolves around him, blinded by his light. What is infuriating, what galls me, makes me sick to the stomach: he has no discernable talent to merit any of this. Even worse, he does not even have to do anything for all this. Even I, repulsed from the core of my being, am complicit. It seems inescapable. So, if you ask me, Norbert Nadler has to be the result of a modern-day Virgin Birth. A madman or a genius, perhaps both. I am just trying to say: Norbert Nadler is inhuman.
From the day I was born I devoted my life to God. At the age of four I already lived in a sacred room; later on I moved to a temple. After I got married I did not need a sacred place any longer: my body had become a sacred place. I came closest to enlightenment with the birth of Jesus. I then became an unblemished mirror and reflected heaven on earth. After the interview, Mary rose to heaven, accompanied by seven angels.
Taken from Maria causa salutis www. pavelvanhouten.nl
Nadav Nadler in Via Dolorosa
Albert Wulffers * In the past two years, two films have seen the light with Jesus’ Way of the Cross as their subject. first there was Mel Gibson’s blockbuster slasher movie; The passion of the Christ, where, according to a critic, Christ was reduced to a depersonalized object to be mutilated at will. Then there was Nadav Nadler’s Via Dolorosa, in which Nadav has the part of Jesus thrust upon him, based solely on his appearance. Which likeness does someone have to resemble to be seen as Jesus’ double? The Veil of Veronica captured his likeness and is, a photograph avant la lettre, the only (disputable) historic source. Let us get a bird’s eye view of the way filmmakers have dealt with the depiction of the Savior. Despite initial apprehension about the depiction of The Lord, He has been shown on film from the early years of cinematography. When in the first decades The Messiah is portrayed from head to toe instead of, for instance, just a hand, he is dignified, solemn and gentle. In 1927, Cecil B. de Mille daz-
zles with the large-scale spectacle The King of Kings, Christ was played by H.B.Warner, who during shooting was carefully sheltered as if he really were the Savior Himself. Critic Ivan Butler describes this Christ as ‘Half way between the silkenhaired, fragile, feminine figure of Victorian colour supplements and the tougher, more realistic portrayals of later years.’ The depiction of Christ shows a stylized image somewhere between that of an icon and the imagery used in modern Jehovah’s Witnesses’ publications. Well over 30 years later, when Nicholas Ray placed his version of the life of Jesus, King of Kings, firmly in the context of the struggle for independence in Palestine, he was criticized for neglecting his protagonist’s divine nature. Nevertheless, his actor does have auburn hair (Variety: ‘wig, of course’) and bright blue orbs. The film owes its nickname I was a teenage Jesus to this actor, Jeffrey Hunter. The first Jesus that would have done well at gymnastics was personified by Max von Sydow in The greatest story ever told (1965). In this flop by George Stevens, which all of contemporary Hollywood seems to
have collaborated on, von Sydow combines the Son of Man with the Son of God. In Il Vangelo secondo Matteo, released only a year earlier, Enrique Irazoqui does not do this at all. To everyone’s astonishment this gospel according to Pier Paolo Pasolini did not contain references to communist ideology; the film is convincing thanks to its austerity and almost despite the emotionless and practically absent Jesus, clearly not of this world but an unshaven rather than trim-bearded figure in no way reminiscent of devotional pictures. Pasolini did not shock, but five years later Dennis Potter more than made up for this. Infuriated at the milk-and-water-depiction of Christ he wrote the t.v.-play Son of Man, where Colin Blakey as a flamboyant agitator delivers a message not so much divine as one of love in times of fear. Around this time, Robert Crumb drew a cartoon depicting many different Christs – ranging from the devotional picture to the activist - captioned by the title of this article. As an honest skeptic of what Christ might look like, I would prefer them to either all rise or remain seated.
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He Does It Our Way Mark van Soest The red carpet has been rolled up, decorations have been pulled down and someone is still scratching the sponsors off the walls. Only a last trace of glamour still lingers in the air. Cannes 2006 is over. This festival has seen a lot of promising entries, from Jerzy Mcfinnery’s Another road to nowhere to Arden Dugal’s This is what it is, but the true winner undoubtedly is Norbert Nadler’s long-awaited comeback Our Way. Norbert stars as a media-tycoon down on his luck. Co-star
Julia Norberts rescues him from gutters of Manhattan. She takes him in and helps him back on the top. The film is a classic riches-to-rags-to-riches story, a second coming-of-age, wherein Norbert’s character reinvents himself. The budding romance between him and Norberts is beautifully subtle, their emotional cat-and-mouse game reminiscent of Wong KarWai’s In the Mood for Love. Our Way is essentially a portrait of our generation. The film offers a quiet reflection on personal development and is a thrilling romance, keeping the audience on the edge of their seat throughout the film. Behind the scenes of Our Way
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The winner takes it all
Yossi Peretz Yesterday, despite the uproar surrounding the emotionally charged encounter between the German and the Dutch teams, all 66.021 supporters at Berlinâ€™s Olympic stadium agreed about one thing. Dutch star player Norbert Nadlerâ€™s performance, elegant and strong, was sheer magic. Cheered on by Dutch and German fans alike, Berlin Herthaâ€™s outstanding mid-ďŹ elder Norbert was in his natural habitat. The moment he entered the pitch, all hell broke loose as hundreds of Hertha supporters ran on to the pitch and jumped all over him for a signature, touching and kissing him. Attempts at crowd control failed as Norbertmania took hold of the fans. Norbert, patient as ever thanked everyone and, a little distracted, his face showed the ecstatic happiness at the orange teamâ€™s victory. Not just moving on to the semiďŹ nals and a shot at the World Cup, the dark veil left from the 1974 defeat on German soil was ďŹ nally lifted.
Norbert Nadler opening the match
Norbert says â€˜thank you SKOR!â€™
Joris Kwast * On June 27th 2006, the unveiling of Marathon man, monument to the unknown loser will take place on the Marathonweg in Amsterdam. The piece by Ram Katzir (Tel Aviv, 1969), consists of two reliefs commissioned by the building society Algemene Woningbouw Vereniging. The unveiling will take place at the ďŹ nishing line of Not The Amsterdam Marathon. This charity marathon will have many celebrities participating, ďŹ rst and foremost is the by now legendary Norbert Nadler. His spokesperson R.V.Bloemgarten has informed us that â€œ[â€Ś] Nor-
bert is training hard to get in shape for the big event. Norbert always goes for gold! Winning is all that matters. Monuments are usually erected in memory of victims or to honor sportsmen, politicians or other well-known people. Marathon man is a monument to the anti-hero. An ode to the inglorious loser, the nameless participant struggling as hard as the winner, only to make it to seventh, twelfth or twentyďŹ fth place. The relief on the left depicts stout runners, strapping young men. The one on the right shows a runner who dropped out of the marathon. His heel hurts and he is too exhausted to continue. According to Ram Katzir, the piece is
a reaction to the now common worship of celebrity. The artist celebrates those who just did not make it past the ďŹ nish. Many of the 1930â€™s architecture in Oud-Zuid have been ornamented with heroic sculptures. Sculptors and designers like Hildo Krop and Piet Kramer, were often involved during the designing stages of city planning to guarantee an integral design of public space. A practically forgotten art-policy, based on socialist ideals was the reason for this. During the inter-bellum, Amsterdam made great efforts to build decent housing for the working classes. The proletariat was not just supposed to have decent housing; they were also supposed to
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Suzie Delshadian ARIES (Mar. 21st â€“ Apr. 19th): A typical Aries , you forge ahead; some obstacles sheer willpower canâ€™t overcome. Sometimes you must put other peopleâ€™s needs ahead of your own! You enjoy the chase but in love you may be the one who is pursued.
TAURUS (Apr. 20th â€“ May. 20th): Slow Taurean perseverance reaps its own rewards. Remember not to lie on your laurels for too long and keep trotting towards that target. A loved one surprises you this month, so act surprised!
GEMINI (May. 21st â€“ Jun. 21st): Youâ€™re feeling divided about which path to take. Trust your instincts. All will become clearer soon. Whatever happens, keep your mind and heart open: which comes easily to your Gemini nature. In love, learn to dance rather than run
CANCER (Jun. 22nd- Jul. 22nd): Spending all your time looking after other people? Take some for yourself. Once that happy, cancer humorâ€™s in balance, your loved ones will beneďŹ t. Take your partner for a watery dip; itâ€™ll make you wet and fuzzy. mmmm!
LEO (Jul. 23rd â€“ Aug. 22nd): Your ďŹ ery Leo energy is starting to ebb away from too much organizing. Take a nap! Charge those batteries and then dance the night away. You like to be admired, expect to be ďŹ‚irted with by an admirer.
VIRGO (Aug.t 23rd â€“ Sept. 22nd): Your Virgoan diligence is impressive, you aim to work hard this month; but donâ€™t forget to take your play seriously! The sun is shining! Self-indulge some. Your love life blossoms when you make time for it!
LIBRA (Sept.r 23rd â€“ Oct. 22nd): Balancing out the intricacies of life is a demanding job .ďŹ nding â€˜politicâ€™ solutions is in your Libra nature. Colleagues and friends admire you for this skill. In love, forget politics. Donâ€™t ration the passion this month. Enjoy!
SCORPIO (Oct. 23rd â€“ Nov. 21st): You like playing with ďŹ re! If you resist temptation you wonâ€™t get burned but itâ€™s a tug of war. Scorpio magnetism is attracting plenty of ďŹ‚irtatious rewards this month. Keep that den of iniquity well lit!
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22nd â€“ Dec. 21st): Keep your head down, your hands clean and stay out of trouble. This is hard for someone with a Sagittarian nature! Donâ€™t worry, the storm will pass and you will tango your way into love.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22nd â€“ Jan. 19th):
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were educated about the ďŹ ner things and were supposed to be immersed in all manner of culture. Placing art in the public space served a double purpose, artists were given work and Joe Average could enjoy art in the streets. Between 1932 and 1937, a number of austere yet carefully designed housing estates were erected on the Marathonweg The striking simplicity of the designs was due to the diminishing budgets during the crisis years. Due to this lack of funding the reliefs were never completed. Sculptor Frits Sieger envisioned four limestone headstones with optimistic titles like â€˜Everything for the Youngâ€™. His colleague Kees Smout did ďŹ nish two reliefs on the odd side of street, no.37-39, but the two blocks of granite reserved at no.65-67 remained vacant. Placing of Ram Katzirâ€™s work has ended this asymmetry after almost seventy years. Monument to the unknown loser is a modern reaction to the sculptures in the surrounding area. The piece came about through cooperation between the Algemene Woningbouw Vereniging (owner of the houses), SKOR (Stichting Kunst en Openbare Ruimte, advies en medeďŹ nanciering) and the bureau of Monuments and Archeology (municipality Amsterdam). This initiative was the result of the architectural sculpture project led by the bureau of Monuments and Archeology, which aims to restore architectural sculptures from the period between 1900 and 1940. During the past four years in 20 locations throughout Amsterdam, sculptures attached to buildings and bridges have been restored.
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Dikke Nederlands voor Nederlanders
Across 1 - â€˜my one regret in life is that i am not someone elseâ€™ 7 - â€˜it is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizenâ€™ 8 - â€˜women might be able to fake orgasme, but men van fake a whole relationshipâ€™ 9 - â€˜i would have made a good popeâ€™ Down 2 - â€˜If you are out to discribe the truth, leave elegance to the tailorâ€™ 3 - â€˜to be or not to be what was the quistion?â€™ 4 - â€˜give me a museum and i will ďŹ ll itâ€™ 5 - â€˜Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say somethingâ€™ 6 - â€˜Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truthâ€™ 10 - â€˜Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheepâ€™s clothingâ€™
Climbing a mountain is a daunting task, especially with those hazardous rocks! Ambitious Capricorns welcomes a challenge, but donâ€™t push other climbers. ďŹ nd a quiet place for a romantic picnic, there could be plenty of dessert.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20th â€“Feb. 18th): You are a dreamer and a doer. But are you â€˜doingâ€™ your dreams? Keep those Aquarius dreams alive, it helps get you through many a dreary task. If love were a whirlwind, youâ€™d be swept away! Keep one foot on the ground.
PISCES (Feb. 19th â€“ Mar. 20th): Caught day-dreaming again? Whatâ€™s happening to that important project you are working on? You have to swim in one direction even though your Piscean nature urges you to swim in two. Boy is it hard to pin you down!
adventure in all its glory
SKOR (Foundation for Art and Public Space) develops art projects in relation to public spaces through guidance and ﬁnancial support. www.skor.nl Special thanks: Eric Ankersmit, Paul van der Berg, for being himself, J.C.H. Bloemgarten-Barends, Mayor Job Cohen, Aukje Dekker, Bobak Delshadian, Paul Enkelaar, for ﬁlming in the mayor’s ofﬁce, Charles Esche,Tijmen van Grootheest, Itay Gross, Esther Hertog, Marijke Hertog, Jos Houweling, Mostafa Heravi, Franzeska Jentsch, Nimrod Kahn, Ram Katzir, Kees Keijer, Chaim Levano, Arjen Mulder, Huib Ramaer, Radio Rietveld, Sima & Shlomo Nadler, Maartje & Yuval Reuven, Rob’s Prop Shop, Joel Ryan, Fabrice Schomberg, Daniil Umansky, Rita Verdonk, for being there, Mayor Thomas Warddin, Lam de Wolf, The Gerrit Rietveld Academy/VAV, Printed by Drukkerij Dijkman Offset. Answers to quotewordpuzzle on page 15 : 1 - (Woody) Allen, 2 - (Albert) Einstein, 3 - (Norbert) Nadler, 4 - (Pablo) Picasso, 5 - Plato, 6 - (Oscar) Wilde, 7 - Aristotle, 8 - (Sharon) Stone, 9 - (Richard) Nixon 10 - (Jesus) of Nazareth www.nnadler.com
A newspaper that presents news from a subjective point of view.