“An Icelander in a (comic) strip”

The other day, I appeared in a small article in the Dutch-speaking newspaper BDW (Brussel Deze Week) after they found my short film on Brussels, “Brussels Breathe(s)”.

As many of my friends and family do not speak Dutch, and due to the fact that Google Translate is not yet capable enough to make proper sense of the article, I thought I would put a translation here.  It is 95% accurate, here and there I made some small adjustments so that the meaning comes closer to what I intended, or to just turn the rather different structure of the Dutch language into English.  There was a lot of things that couldn’t find place in the interview, I hope to add some of these things in the future.

Lastly, a humble thanks to everyone for all the positive responses, compliments, and encouragement, it means a lot.  Here the article:

(original link: http://www.brusselnieuws.be/artikel/andri-haflidason-verklaart-brussel-zijn-liefde-op-youtube)

“An Icelander in a (comic) strip”

“Brussels is a city that is not full of itself” Andri Haflidason (photo:Marc Pervès)

BRUSSELS – Architect by profession, photographer and filmmaker in his soul. Andri Haflidason found himself 3 years ago in the capital and has not yet left. He declared his love for her special charm on Vimeo/Youtube.

28 year old Andri Haflidason, architect by training, with Icelandic parents who met each other in London.  He grew up in Edinburgh, Scotland.  During his studies in neighbouring Glasgow, he spread his wings to also study in the Netherlands and Sweden. At the end of his studies he found himself in Brussels, a city where he initially had to find his way somewhat, a place which unexpectedly became a love of his.

We discovered Haflidason through Youtube, the online channel for self-made films and videos. Here he sketched out a day in the city, supported by the music of the British electronic band Goldfrapp. The four minutes plus film emphasises how people and buildings of Brussels appear and change through the day, from sunrise to sunset. It is filmed in such a way that you see details that you might not have previously noticed.

Islands

Haflidason was happy to explain further. We met him on the roof of Parking 58, one of his favourite places. “I like to combine my passion for architecture and the city with photography and film. By last year I had developed the idea to try and record my observations of the city as I walked through it, with the limited means that I had. The film ‘Brussels Breathe(s)’ is the result.”

When the film became known amongst my friends – outside of which I had done little promotion – it began to find it’s own way through the internet, and I started to receive enthusiastic responses from people, often asking me how I had come to make this. I could only answer that it was a result of a combination of my creative instincts with a runaway love for the city, along with the necessary patience to watch and record what I saw.”

He calls it himself a love-letter to the city, one which could not have been expressed in many other ways. In contrast to some other more sober cities, he found in Brussels ‘a city that is not full of itself’. “Brussels has beauty, but it consists of bubbles; wonderful places as bubbles – islands – which are joined across and separated by chaos and ugliness. There was and is often little thought given to how this city should be built or rebuilt, often with profound effects, and the result is a hodgepodge the like of which I have never seen before. You can hate it, and I would understand, but you can also come to love it.” It is charming, without pretension, clarifies the Icelandic Scot.

“I have just been in Berlin for a period, and you can compare the city with Brussels a little. But in the German capital there are many more people shouting and competing for attention, and I think this can sometimes make it difficult to really get something done. Here in Brussels creative people have more opportunity to get things done in the city. ‘Just do (it)’ is a valuable motto I have learned here.”

He recounts all of this in a Dutch of which many Francophones would be jealous. Of note is the decision to learn Dutch in preference to the current lingua franca of Brussels; French. “I find Dutch to be a beautiful language. Especially the soft accent of the Flemish. I have been asked by many people why I learned such a ‘small language’. But this is a slightly unfair question. Icelandic is even smaller, yet I still speak it.”

Bungalow

During our walk Haflidason displays some examples of his enthusiasm for the city. “Take the street of ‘Bijstandsstraat’, a side street of the central boulevard Anspachlaan. You have here the ‘cartoon-wall’, which more than just through the cartoon itself shows the way the city has developed; you have in one street the transition from a medieval city of cobbles to a more recent Haussmannian boulevard that almost seems as if has run straight out of Paris.” Further on, in the street ‘Komediantenstraat’, he points out a (red painted) bungalow which stands next to an old café, behind which rises a huge bank building. Three styles in one street, three completely different visions of a city. “How can Brussels better be described than a fantastical comic strip?”.

The manner in which Haflidason describes and explains Brussels , comes across as a sort of story, one with various styles. With many of the people he meets coming from outwith Belgium, he can sometimes help point out things of the city which allow it’s appreciation. He knows the ‘Flemish cafés’ and looks out for the parties organised by the often Francophone ‘Brussels-activists’, who for example organise in the Summer parties in Parc Cinquantenaire, amongst many others.

This is a ‘Brussels-youth’ of many backgrounds and identities, one which as in the case of the place itself, is not yet clear or defined. “That is the future of the city, I would say.”

http://www.facebook.com/BrusselsBreathes

http://vimeo.com/17738490

 

Brussels Breathes - A film (excerpt) - 2010 - Andri Haflidason

With thanks to Christophe Degreef and BDW.

Carrefour de l’Europe

Carrefour de l’Europe (Crossroads of Europe)

Contrasts are wonderful. In the graphic arts, in the weather, in attitudes and behaviours, in cities, in life. The measurement or analysis of the nature of something almost always demands that it is compared against something else, I believe. The bigger a contrast one can find between two things, the more it is possible to appreciate either extreme. Brussels is without doubt a city of the most fantastic, surprising, sometimes horrifying, yet inspiring contrasts. It is a cliché to say that it sits at the heart of a nation which already contains rather strong contrasts between its people, and furthermore as a place which can arguably be described as the cross-roads of Europe, yet this cliché is here very evident, and has a poetic truth. I think there are many words to be written about what I call the “edges” of Brussels – it is truly a city of edges; social, cultural, urban. It is the latter I want to write briefly upon. As usual I am aware of the incredible depth of material there is to speak of on this matter, and it is both exciting, and intimidating. Having only had some cursory glances, and chance glimpses into the history of this city, I don’t feel at all prepared to write something in any way scientific or even particularly well informed.

I think one of the places which best illustrates this theme is the “Mont des Arts”, located between Central Station and the Upper Town/Royal Palace/Park. What an incredibly strange construction it is, in urban, architectural and cultural terms. It was once home to the Putterie district, also known as the Montagne de la Cour, which followed largely a Medieval street pattern, albeit clearly much altered since that time. What was then to come was shocking, yet typical for this town. The Belgian King, Leopold II, hopelessly concerned with bringing Brussels closer to a grand vision of a major European city, sought, against the protestations (and resignation) of its Mayor Charles Buls to sweep away the fabric of the old (lower) town and realise another major axis in the city, only made possible by his immense colonial wealth. In typical Brussels fashion, the area was demolished in the early 20th century, and then lay seemingly empty for some decades, before the various elements of the Mont des Arts were realised. What the visitor to Brussels has been able to see for the last decades, is a completely artificial garden, surrounded by grand stairs, colonnaded, impenetrable buildings (with what appears to be remains of a church facade embedded within one of them) where for, as long as I can remember, there has been a dark hole within the city, especially at night.

Yet now it has been “redeveloped” (most people struggle to see the difference) – largely underground – and was the subject of a grand opening recently, with every kind of entertainment possible thrown at the event, it was impressive, and enjoyable to say the least. So, that is a little bit of history, but what fundamentally is my point? I think it is to say that this development, this scar (as it has been described by others) leaves me in two minds – one pining for the old town (of which there is precious little left of) and the other, influenced in this moment strongly by my experience last night of walking through the newly lit space, rows of coloured lights giving the green of the ordered garden a vivid, bizarre sheen, the untended fountains, the new steel and glass box poking out from the cavernous levels below, filled with conference halls, parking spaces, tunnels, and goodness knows what else. And I was there almost alone, in the centre of Brussels, in the centre of Europe, at the crossroads of this continent. There is a beauty to the dead glory of this space, something born out of a kind of megalomania, and now considered by ordinary people as something strange, without use, and fundamentally and most importantly without any idea at all as to why it’s even there. Yet passing through it, and on into the old, twisting fabric of the lower town is a memorable journey, an incredible “shift”. One feels the organic nature of the city – you can see it in the abandoned shops (there is one whole street, rue saint-jean) between this monumental construction and the riotous network of small properties and proprietors of the centre. Around the scar is dead tissue, slowly healing itself as it can. You see this best at the skate park built over the most clear and deep cut dealt to Brussels, that of the North South underground train link. Dead land slowly is appropriated for new uses. The almost abandoned railway station Kapellekerk now hosts a cultural centre and a memorable night club, Recylcart. You can see the old city wall, cut brutally and abruptly by the road running over the railway tunnel, and dwarfed by a bowling complex just metres from the wall – only in Brussels!

Since I have arrived here I have seen and shared these and other contrasts with the people I have met, and with the friends I have made – we tell each other about them, often holding our heads, often laughing, always in wonderment at the various situations this urban creature contains. I sought recently to record some of the most memorable visions of this in a short series of photos, which I hope to further add to. In a way these might tell much more about what I’m trying to say than by the words themselves. I am both happy and sad to realise that it is the violent, uncaring history of this city which has created the possibility of such amazing contrasts, and for me, such a strange and hypnotic beauty.

bru

Mont des Arts - a photo taken on a summer evening, during redevelopment work

Financial district - "Spaghetti hut" contrasted against another amazing Fortis (bank) building

Green refuge - Part of the amazing roofscape of Brussels

Oud Korenhuis - A small square not far from Central Station

Remnants of the city wall - As only Brussels can...

Layers of Panik

Ah facebook, what would I do without it and the rather significant amount of invites and events it proposes me. On Saturday morning I received a little message from what I have come to regard as the most enjoyable, original radio station I know; Radio Panik (105.4fm)   Now it’s not like I actually have a great and wide knowledge of radio stations either here or anywhere else, but I do have the conviction that there are not so many quite like this; it’s characterised by the “fact” (more a feeling) that every ten minutes the style of music changes, from opera, to hip-hop, to electro, and so on and so forth. Yet the changes aren’t jarring, in fact I never really notice, except now and then to stop and marvel for a moment at the latest curiosity they have served up, as one realises that for the past five minutes they’ve been playing some kind of strange tangled mix of whispers, gentle clanging and some peculiar, indescribable other noise. There have been some classics, songs I never heard before, absolutely don’t know how to categorise, and I expect, will hear them just this once. But, I certainly digress; the invitation from Radio Panik was to come to Jubelpark/Parc de Cinquantenaire in Brussels to hear them play some music. The sun was shining, the urge to leave the cosy centre called, so why not.

In fact now that I think ahead on what to write, I realise that my reflections on this event don’t necessarily have anything specific to say about the event itself, or even Radio Panik, but I did think to myself as I lay there that I would like to remember this moment, and what I would clumsily call the “layers” of it. I would first say that I’ve never really like Jubelpark; it is (yet another) rigidly laid out, formal park, proclaiming the glory (ummm) of, I must say, I don’t know what. But today, I changed my mind, I think. At the Western end of the park is a triumphal arch (again, celebrating a triumph I am blissfully unaware of) with two stone arms stretching out to close this end of the park, forming a semi-circular enclosure. Nothing really very remarkable, in my opinion. But, lying there on the happily merde-less grass of one side of this semi circle, while the sun gave out it’s last, warm rays, I realised that it’s the perfect place to catch the sun at the end of the day, which is not such an easy thing to find in Brussels. With the pulsing, electronic rhythms wafting over from the ad-hoc (I love that word) sound system, consisting of some big old, brown, hi-fi speakers under a little tent, this was already a good start. Up above in the sky, planes traced white lines across the sky, these shortening just as they lengthened, like the snake game on a mobile phone. Lower down, but still high in the sky, little dark birds darted around, seemingly in pairs, bouncing up and down as if to the music itself. Just above us cavorted little flies in a typically meaningless fashion (I must say I like the sound of flies cavorting) and around us the tips of the grass seemed to stretch up, trying to catch the last sun on their tips. Under us, the ground trembled now and then as the metro passed below. Really, very nice. Around me, a rather irregular collection of people played games, talked, close by two little kids practising their first break-dance moves. A mix of people I would say, reflecting perhaps the radio station itself.

On these days, and others, I do love this city, neglected and confused as it is.

bru out

Holy…

Last weekend I had a revelatory, I would even say near religious experience.  I had been flicking through the “Agenda” magazine (which I often pick up but rarely look through, shamefully) and came across something interesting.   There was going to be a club night in the “Gésu” church (with DJ Hell playing, how appropriate), and probably for the last time, as this venue is due for a redevelopment (into a hotel…) and so as this sounded rather special I let some friends know about it, and although I had no idea what it would be like and therefore couldn’t really recommend it, I was still surprised only to convince one to come along.  But along we went, not sure what to expect, and after waiting in a long, snaking line, we entered.  In typical Brussels fashion, the entrance was an innocuous door squashed into a corner between two buildings, the church itself not even visible.  So far, so Brussels.  We paid for our entry, wandered through a short corridor, around a corner, gradually getting darker, and then…

And then…our eyes momentarily looked directly ahead, as if still walking through the corridor, but as we moved forward they met the base of a huge stone column of the church, illuminated in red.  As we walked forward slowly our eyes rose to follow this column, and rose further, and when reaching their limit, our heads tilting backwards, as we began to take in the interior of this very tall, narrow church, lit dramatically from below. Wow.  I have seen some impressive venues, but this blew all the others away. It’s actually difficult to describe this feeling in words, and even seems a little cheap to even try to do so, but it’s all I can manage in order to try to communicate what was actually a very quiet, very memorable moment. I am not religious, but there is no denying the skill some churches, such as this one have in leaving a lasting impression. With the presumed collapse of belief itself, and thereby the local congregation, a deconsecrated church has become transformed into something extraordinary, and i would argue with a purpose which even perversely respects it’s past function, and moreover reflects our society today, something which fortunately neither sentiment nor conservatism rarely manage to halt. Happily, from an architectural point of view, anything placed within the church was quite temporary, standing loose on top of the beautiful stone floor.

So, what more to say, it was a fantastic evening, even though the pulsing sounds of the sound system were hopelessly lost within the cavernous height of the church, reverberation after reverberation bouncing and mixing into each other. This didn’t stop people from moving, and I would even use the word “rejoicing” in the moment.

The next day I looked up previous events at the church and saw that it has previously been even more extravagantly lit, in a quite incredible fashion even, with videos showing the lighting flowing around the columns. I also discovered that there would in fact be one more event at the church, and so this weekend I much more easily convinced around ten other friends to go, and very happily they all shared my enthusiasm and wonder at this special, perhaps one-time experience. They expressed disbelief that it was going to be turned into a Hotel (apparently the church will only house the swimming pool and bar) and indeed it seems a little regretful that such a place will lose itself to what is often a very controlled and essentially private use. The church could have been used for much else than just night clubs; indoor markets, meetings, lectures, etc. But I do not know the details of the situation, and what will really happen to the place.

I just thank those who once built this church with such skill and belief, as it continues even now to give great emotion and experience to people. And I once again am a little bit astonished by Brussels, realising that just as I was beginning to feel that I knew it, there are more things to discover.

That moment, entering the church

In the mix

Parks and Parkings

Brussels this weekend was magical.      (I should add that I started this draft on 5th April…lazy lazy)

The sunny weather has been teasing the city over the last week, coming and going, and finally today (Sunday) giving us a really beautiful day, a little wind, and sun + clouds trundling along the sky, my perfect kind of day.

Although it took me a long time to get out there and enjoy it (as usual, and also due to too many cocktails at the excellent Kokob restaurant the night before) once I did everything fell into it’s place.  Two friends called to say that they were on “Parking 58″, and so I set off to join them, picking up a few beers on the way.  So, what is special about Parking 58?  For want of a more poetic way of describing it, it’s a big car-park sitting on top of the GB supermarket in the centre of the city, on the other side of Anspach from Place de la Monnaie/Muntplein.   Passing through the entrance sited under the curve of the ramps, with a very ‘Brussels’ bar tucked in underneath, one takes the lift to the 10th floor (a lot of good things are numbered 10 I find) and out one steps onto I would not hesitate to say, one of the best spaces and places Brussels has to give.  For a city with a thick urban density, (within the central pentagon) where one rarely sees the horizon, to suddenly stand on this enormous flat viewing platform standing directly in the centre and hovering just over the rooftops of Brussels is wonderful, a breath of fresh air for the eyes, the soul, the mind.

I continue writing this post some 3 weeks later, having visited Parking 58 once since, and again marvelling at how good it feels to be up there.  I also checked out another car park I had heard was similar, on Schildknaapsstraat/Rue de l’Ecuyer, and although it is around the same height, and it gives a slightly different perspective (right down onto Rue des Bouchers)  I knew instantly however that I preferred Parking 58, perhaps for it’s better location, larger size, or perhaps just because one’s “first time” is almost always the most memorable. The views afforded by Parking 58 are also almost unobstructed in any direction, except to the North where the access ramps briefly continue before stopping mid-air, the sun can be felt from sunrise to sunset.  The parking building also featured in the charming (although rather minimalist) Belgian movie “Verboden te Zuchten”, where the main character heads up there with a new acquaintance, to get some air.

Verboden Te Zuchten (Soundtrack cover)

For once I am going to include some of my own photos, something I don’t plan to do very often, mostly out of reasons of time, but that I hope gives a feeling of why I (and many other Brusselsers) are so fond of this otherwise anonymous parking building. I would say almost without hesitation, that it is one the major reasons why I have come to love Brussels, and it is things like this which encourage me to stay longer; it feels that over time the city is gradually becoming my house, with different rooms in different places. Parking 58 is my roof terrace.

Bubbles

Brussels is a city of Bubbles.  Let me explain; Brussels is not really a city where one wanders seamlessly from one nice place to another, as I have felt possible in some other cities in Europe.  There are a few “arteries of niceness” (oh dear) running through the city, but one has to know the city pretty well in order to navigate these, and in fact they are not very well joined up, and rather stretch the imagination to be considered as actually somewhere “especially pleasant”.  So, one must instead make a mental collection of the places which are special and enjoyable, the great majority of which are small and somewhat disconnected, hence the term bubbles.

Today I arrived back in Brussels by mid afternoon from a photo session elsewhere in Belgium and decided to go out and enjoy the sunny weather, and pick up a badly needed bicky burger (a bicky burger)  After achieving this modest goal (I know the best place in town for a bicky – the frites hut at kapellekerk/chapelle) I decided to do one of my favourite things when exploring a city, which sounds simple but for me was a little revelation some years ago; to just follow the streets which look somehow intriguing/inviting.  This can be strange when one already feels like one knows the city, but today it worked out well.  Not even knowing which way to go at first I just sort of drifted towards a few streets with the intention to have an easier decision once I reached them.  These two streets are the two main antique streets of Brussels, I won’t mention the names (as I don’t have all night to do the double translation!) but the important thing is that they run through the old Brussels district of the Marolle(n/s), somewhere rather interesting and precious, where it is said the old dialect of Brussels (named…”Brussels”, a fantastic mix of Dutch and French) still exists – more on that another day.

But I diverge…walking along hoogstraat I quickly took a small alleyway up the hill, and came across some small streets I had never seen before, and although rather absent of life they were a nice discovery, and a reminder of what I suppose was the original character of this place; compact, unexpected.  Here I discovered a little theatre “Theatre La Samaritaine”, with a door about 1.5m high, complete with old brush installed on the head of the frame to warn people not to bump their head.  It looked rather forgotten, having a sign recommending it in one of those tour guide books of 1996, but anyway the charming drawing of the space inside sold me on it.

Theatre La Samaritaine

I hope to go sometime to check it out.  Health and Safety eat that! (in the UK I can pretty much guarantee such a place would be shut down by the government, over zealous  in its attempts to take all responsibility out of the hands of people., through the “Health and Safety” laws)

But anyway, let’s not get bogged down in criticising somewhere else.  Wandering further I eventually arrived at the area beside the “Palace of Justice”, a truly ridiculously huge building plonked (“dropped”) right down into the Marollen once upon a time.  I still had not been inside this monster, so I went up the wonderfully oversized stairs but could only advance as far as the first entrance halls, open to the air, it seems that it’s closed on a Sunday.  Oh well.  It is still something incredible that I must check out sometime.  A nice touch is that in the Marollen there is a bar dedicated to the architect of this building, named the evil architect (“skieven architect”) and I certainly don’t criticise the sentiment, although the bar itself is not really so great itself, it must be said.

Photographer - pas le matin (on flickr)

Entrance hall - Photo: Marie Kappweiler

Further on I ended up in a place I had never been, an area of the Marollen which has become detached from everything else; on two sides the smaller of the ring roads of Brussels, on another the Palace of Justice (what a name…) and on the last side the rather messed up district around South Station.  So, not particularly pleasant, but certainly memorable, a sort of only-possible-in-Belgium mix of modernist apartment blocks with old houses, in an incredible clash of sizes and styles, with this weird sense of loss; a place once ‘somewhere’, now not really going anywhere in particular.  The evil architect at least a little bit to blame…

So, inevitably the subject of enjoying a belgian beer entered my mind, and not much later I was sitting on the Flea Market “jeu de balle” (game of ball?) with a friend and a friend of theirs, enjoying a beer in the setting sun.  After some strong but very enjoyable discussions over the social security system of Belgium, the toilet ladies (present in a huge number of toilets in bars, clubs, cinemas, where somehow paying already for the beer etc is not enough to keep a toilet clean once a night) and finally the very enlightening idea that West Flanders is basically the “Scotland” of Belgium I began to feel  pretty happy with my day out.  So, for now, I should really make my dinner, therefore I leave it at that, bonsoire, goedenacht,goodnight

bru

underdogs

I’ve always liked underdogs.  This might be related to being born, and growing up in  true underdog nation, Scotland, (and originating in Iceland – p.s. don’t mention the crisis) or it could be something else, but if you know your history and/or your football you will probably also feel it must largely be the former.  Brussels is just that, something of an underdog in city terms, a place people either don’t know about, quickly forget, or don’t expect very much from.  Which is why, as with all underdogs, it is a nice surprise when they jump up and bite you, so to speak.  I hope I can share my appreciation of Brussels, and even of life, with whoever out there who cares to know about it, and perhaps even do a tiny bit to help the little guy (brussels, not me) out, or at the very least bring a small smile to someone out there.

I suppose I should say a little bit more about why I decided to start writing my thoughts down online.  Partly it was the well appreciated suggestions of family and friends that I should record and share my observations, and moreover a feeling that I want to remember and even ‘advertise’ these times in Brussels.  It is a place which doesn’t get much luck (having been ripped apart by European wars for centuries, and then again by rather brutal urban developments and interventions, and even more recently by the two component parts of Belgium, Flanders and Wallonia, who tussle for it’s control)  However it’s also a result of having lived abroad for so long (I blame and thank my Erasmus experiences in Benelux and Scandinavia) and the fact that I feel my mother tongue English is getting dustier and stranger, as I pick up more and more the odd but often charming alterations that various people from various places introduce to it.  So for me this is also  a way to think once again a carefully about how to communicate, and how best to make use of a wonderful thing such as language, and enjoy a little wordplay, hopefully.

I do admit to hesitating over what to write for this, the first entry, as somehow I felt it would dictate the direction of this blog, but then I remembered that life is short, opportunities are there to be grabbed, and the things we enjoy doing should be done as best as possible in the moment we do them, because quite often we don’t get a second chance to do them any better.  So, I have just written the first things which came to mind.  I hope to now get on with posting my slightly random, probably provocative, and hopefully amusing reflections on this city, and indeed this life.

There you go/Alsjeblieft/S’il vous plait

bru