© Jack Kruf (2018) Camouflage in the city [fine art print]. Breda: Private collection.
This palette of colour and construction finds its base in the combination of government regulation, the use of different materials, the progressive insights in and possibilities for the creation of new infrastructure to ease living.
The personal colour touch of the owner of this house in the centre of the City of Verona makes it almost a work of art. Camouflage in the city.
© Jack Kruf (2021) Door Palette [fine art print]. Breda: Private collection.
A bus stop actually can deliver a surprising palette of colours and materials. Here in the city of Breda (my city). Great design: wood, polyester and metal form this unique combination. The light brown, gray and silver palette is clean, neat and organised. It is interacting with the evening light.
© Jack Kruf (2019) Playful Wind [fine art print, open edition]. Breda: Private collection.
The wind can be playful in etching the sand on the beach. A natural pattern emerged here, which by the way, says not a lot about the wind, but also about the sand.
In fact, this is a symbolic picture of how organisations and, on a larger scale, even cities can be (trans)formed, sculpted, moulded, and even created by this combination of external and environmental factors on one hand and its own internal strengths and weaknesses (in the palette of behaviour, grip, power, robustness, resilience and diversity) of itself on the other hand.
Here, the emerging pattern has become the natural result of a sand and wind carried out realisation after the SWOT analysis. The result is what was possible. The wind and the sand come to their own expressions. No human or Artificial Intelligence is needed for true art expressions of Mother Nature.
© Jack Kruf (2014). Het Bosberaad [fine art print]. Breda: Private collection.
Dit groepje bomen is over van wat eens een groot en vooral wijs bos was. Een verlaten groepje dat mijn aandacht trok. Zij zijn de laatst overgeblevenen, restanten en als zodanig onderdeel van een (zwaar uitgedund) bosberaad.
De bomen spraken over hoe zij nu toch definitief het pad wilden terugvinden naar waar zij thuishoorden, het bos, hun bos. Een verwoede poging, zo meende ik te ontwaren. Protest ook.
Ik liep even naast Frodo en Sam in het Oude Bos en droomde over de trots en gewortelde wijsheid van de bomen:
“As they listened, they began to understand the lives of the Forest, apart from themselves, indeed to feel themselves as the strangers where all other things were at home. […] Tom’s words laid bare the hearts of trees and their thoughts, which were dark and strange, and filled with a hatred of things that go free upon the earth, gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning: destroyers and usurpers. It was not called the Old Forest without reason, for it was indeed ancient, a survivor of vast forgotten woods; and in there lived yet, ageing no quicker than the hills, the fathers of the fathers of trees, remembering times when they were lords. The countless years had filled them with pride and rooted wisdom, and with malice.”
– Tolkien (1954)
Ik breng een stille ode aan dit bosberaad.
