For many Belgians the idea of the fatherland seems to be an alien concept. In the near 200 years of its existence we have called our country many things: a farce, a surrealist masterpiece, a failed state and – even – the best remedy against patriotism. All self depreciating comments aside however the true nature of Belgium keeps eluding the best of us.

So what is this country nobody seems to take serious really like? With the year 2030 as my deadline I am randomly roaming through Belgium, looking for anything that smells like fatherland.

The results of this highly unscientific research will be published in a series of limited edition magazines between now and October 4, 2030, exactly 200 years after the Belgian Declaration of Independence,

After which this photographer will graciously retire to the south of nowhere.






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Coyendans, Gent (September 2015)

DAT GEVOEL van feest. Ik herinner het me alsof het gisteren was. Ik die op de stoep stond te wachten, trillend van opwinding. Je hoorde ze al van ver komen: de mannen van het trommelkorps. Roffelend en bonkend over het asfalt. Maar de majoretten, die wilde ik zien.  Zacht zwiepende rokjes. Bruine nylonkousen, altijd zonder ladders. En dan de gratie waarmee ze die ronddraaiende baton doorheen hun vingers lieten marcheren… Als ik groot ben trouw ik met een majorette.


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