Frank van der Stok

Jaap Scheeren is nuts.

That’s perfectly fine, since we need people like that, and he’s one of them. And luckily he’s willing to help us out a little; he presents our surreptitious feelings and desires through the medium of free expression that we are all too happy to leave to him. He dreams up the wackiest, liveliest performances, or carefully staged photo-opportunities, and then steps back while events take their course – leaving us to rhapsodize over the result. It seems we are all secretly envious of his refreshing non-conformism and dynamic inventiveness.

Any attempt to produce a stylistic analysis of his work in order to deepen our understanding of it is therefore as undesirable as it is pointless. Scheeren is a free spirit, a truly witty artist with a keen sense of the absurd, who can shift from reality to theatricality without dropping a beat – as capricious and unpredictable as an unguided missile, he defies every visual convention. Still, he has managed to build up a cohesive oeuvre, in which numerous variables relate to each other and interact in surprising ways. This comes out forcefully in the exhibition The day I took off my mask, I noticed my face was missing.

So we should not seek to define the work of someone like Jaap Scheeren. All we can do, perhaps, is to try to clarify the deeper foundations and motives underlying his methods. This would certainly be the right place to do so. Take the title, for instance. The maker unmasks himself, literally and figuratively, in an ultimate gesture of self-irony. Although that self-irony is not always present, and it is certainly not usually laid on so thickly, it certainly links up seamlessly with his absurdist and tragic-comic premises. In a sense, the artist makes himself vulnerable by acknowledging that nothing human is alien to him, and that he has forgotten to develop his own face behind his protective armor – the ultimate consequence of which is an identity crisis. We subsequently see this tragicomic leitmotiv recur in his work, morphing freely into guises ranging from a palm tree trying to get back into the earth to a pigeon longing to become a parrot. In this way he entices his viewers to sojourn briefly in his figures’ colorful inner worlds. For he knows precisely how to appeal to universal human sentiments so expressively that most viewers can easily identify with them. So it turns out that Jaap Scheeren is not nuts at all; he knows exactly what he’s doing. At most, we might call him an eccentric, but one in whom everything flows in a completely natural way – without any affectation and straight from the heart.

A curiously apt link suggests itself between the suggestiveness of the title The day I took off my mask, I noticed my face was missing and the character of the works. Let’s accept, for a moment, that Scheeren may be called an “absurdist” artist in the philosophical sense. Absurdism is a school of thought stating that humanity’s efforts to find inherent meaning will ultimately fail (and hence are absurd) because the sheer amount of information, including the vast unknown, makes certainty impossible. In fact absurdism is sometimes seen as an art form in which irrationality and incongruity are elevated to guiding principles. These are certainly the kind of principles that have helped to determine the varied ways in which Scheeren attacks his existential despair in evocative parables such as The Sun, The Moon and the Earth discussing their next move. The expressiveness of this work is couched especially in the “next move,” whereby an absurd premise derives added significance from the implication that it has happened before.

By placing all his work under the umbrella heading of a title full of self-irony, Scheeren seems to have completed the circle: absurdism and self-irony overlap, each enhancing the other’s effect. Now, considering the images that Scheeren has put before us, you could say that he visualizes what we might want to call, in the widest sense – for the want of a better term – “human inadequacy.” And that is something that can never be classified or analyzed, only made tangible.

Aaron Schuman

In 1859, Charles Baudelaire famously railed against photography and its early aspirations towards Art, proclaiming that the medium was, ‘[T]he refuge of every would-be painter, every painter too ill-endowed or too lazy to complete his studies’.  Furthermore, in the same essay Baudelaire fiercely berated the general public for its fascination with the newfound technology and warned of its potential dangers, declaring that, ‘[T]his universal infatuation [bears] not only the mark of a blindness, an imbecility, but also the air of vengeance…[I]f it be allowed to encroach upon the domain of the impalpable and the imaginary, upon anything whose value depends solely upon the addition of something of a man’s soul, then it will be so much the worse for us.’

Describing himself a century and a half after Baudelaire penned his fierce remonstrations, the twenty-nine year old Dutch photographer, Jaap Scheeren, states in his own artist biography, ‘People always have a certain idea about me…[E]specially in my youth, they told me that I looked lazy, and assumed that I was.’  Scheeren’s statement confirms that, despite photography’s gradual rise and acceptance as an artistic form, many photographers still find themselves, in both their art and life, associated with the long-held prejudices so eloquently articulated by Baudelaire at the dawn of the medium. Considering his remarkably prolific, diverse and ever-expanding oeuvre, it is clear that Scheeren is by no means ill-endowed or lazy.  Yet perhaps it could be argued that he has a ‘lazy eye’, in the sense that it wanders – and wonders.  ‘I never keep my mind and eyes fixed, though I am focused’, he cryptically explains. ‘Sometimes my work looks like there is no unity, but I am the main connection, and I change my mind like everybody else does.’

Perhaps these early misconceptions of photography, and of Scheeren, stem from their open acknowledgement and acceptance of their innate uncertainty, as such frank admissions of one’s own ambiguities are generally quite rare on the part of both a medium and an artist – after all, art is a vocation that until relatively recently was seen to rely upon a nearly prophetic nature, which in turn was meant to be driven by passionate, unwavering conviction.  In fact, Scheeren often uses this stereotype of the artist to his advantage by adopting a seemingly serious, dead-pan style – one which is common to both photography’s past and present – but mischievously applying this matter-of-fact perspective to seemingly ridiculous, fantastical or incongruous sights and scenarios, thus playing (or insisting the viewer play) a kind of straight-man caught in the midst of a farce.  And precisely because Scheeren’s work possesses this rather whimsical and lighthearted, yet clearly calculated naivety – as well as a disparate and often contradictory quality (not only from project to project, but even within individual bodies of work) – it becomes all too easy at first glance to assume that his approach is lazy, and that his intent is merely to indulge his erratic, childish impulses more than anything else.

Of course, throughout the twentieth century hundreds of celebrated artists – Marcel Duchamp, Andy Warhol, Ed Ruscha, Keith Arnatt, Chuck Close, John Baldassari, Cindy Sherman, Bruce Nauman, William Wegman and Erwin Wurm, just to name very few – used photography to employ similar tactics, not only in order to create a parody of Art (with a capital A) and therefore cut through its pretentiousness, but also to pose questions and insinuate broader critiques, whilst making sure that the audience doesn’t dare assume that they, as artists, were in any sense visionaries with big answers. In many ways, such artists – Scheeren included – have conjured up Baudelaire’s worst nightmare.  Rather than simply letting photography ‘be the secretary and clerk of…factual exactitude’, they’ve skillfully harnessed and utilized the power of both ‘the imbecility’ and ‘air of vengeance’ Baudelaire sensed in the public’s enthusiasm for the medium.  Furthermore, they have purposefully allowed it to ‘encroach upon the domain of the impalpable and imaginary’, and ultimately have imbued it with ‘something of a man’s soul’ without claiming too much of the credit.  Perhaps Warhol summarized this approach best when he both defined and undermined himself by stating, ‘I am a deeply superficial person.’  Similarly, by incorporating humor, absurdity and play into his own work, Scheeren rejects the haughty self-regard found in more traditional notions of both Art and the artist, but this is not to say that he means to relinquish the underlying seriousness or sincerity of his intentions.  As Erwin Wurm has argued, ‘Most artworks try to represent something lofty and important, but I find pathos repulsive. I want to address serious matters but in a light way…Speaking in a light way is not the same as making superficial conversation or small talk, but rather it is to speak in a positive, edifying way.’

As its title suggests, Scheeren’s most recent body of work – 3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months – remains unfixed in many ways, yet retains a very subtle sense of focus.  The project is inspired by and various scenes, stories and illustrations discovered in a book of Slovakian fairytales, and is centered upon the unique coalescence of fantasy, morality, truth and nature found in such stories.    As one would expect from Scheeren, the portfolio incorporates a diverse range of photographic styles and strategies – still-lifes, landscapes, portraits, constructed performances, open-ended narratives, and so on – all of which invoke the humor, mystery and underlying menace of traditional folklore.  A golden feather glistens in an otherwise black void; a human figure looms beneath the green-grass surface of the earth; a blinding light radiates from the heart of a tree-trunk split in two; a woodland hunter sturdily sits in a stone grotto cradling his rifle; a face, full of surprise, fear or perhaps panic, peers out from the innards of a tree; and from a smoldering pile of dry, dead turf rises the head of a dragon, a dinosaur, a griffin or some other primordial or mythic beast.

Again, Scheeren has forgone the absolute, exacting promise of photography and has instead utilized its potential for lyricism and uncertainty, appealing not to our more mature pursuits of fact, rationale and truth, but instead – like folktales themselves – to our most primal, childish senses of both worry and wonderment.  That said, this does not mean that Scheeren’s images are completely shrouded in the imaginary, for photography is uniquely and forever grounded in reality, and it is important to recognize that he is not alone in using fairytales to find photographs.  From the ‘Cottingley Fairies’ to Clare Richardson’s Beyond the Forest, many images throughout the medium’s history have been inspired by such stories, precisely because of both the vivid imaginings and fundamental truths that they conjure up.  In fact, as Richardson subtly implied in a previous issue of this very magazine, it is for this very reason that photography can be seen as being closely related to this particular form of storytelling in that, rather than reproducing the world accurately, it distorts, enhances and transforms reality into its own unique fable, yet in the process retains an unavoidable hint of veracity: as she explained it, ‘Every folklore has a bit of truth.’

Ultimately, 3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months, represents Scheeren at his most seriously playful, and his most playfully serious; at his most clearly uncertain, and his most uncertainly clear.  Because of the childish associations inherent within the work’s source of inspiration, Scheeren is free to abandon the role of impish prankster in his artistic approach and perspective, and to explore with his distinctively wandering, wayward and wonderful eye the nature of tales, the nature of photography, the nature of the artist, and importantly in this particular body of work, nature itself.  Describing the common themes within these particular photographs, Scheeren has stated, ‘Sometimes I truly feel that I need to connect to nature, maybe even to become one with nature. My friends tell me that I get so absorbed with it that they start to believe I will become Mother Nature’.  Of course, just like in his work, as soon a touch of pretension or arrogance – Wurm’s ‘lofty and important pathos’ – enters the discussion with Scheeren, a self-effacing punch-line is bound to follow: ‘But I know that I wouldn’t be a good mother.”


Who are you and what do you do? If you translate my name to English you get Cut Shaving and that isn’t something I regularly do. In short, I -mostly- photograph my experience of reality.

Who/what inspires you? Disagreement, authority and discoveries.

What themes do you pursue? The ones shown in my work and perception

Why art? Because cow was not an option when I grew up.

Name some artists you would like to be compared to. Well, difficult one, since comparison is not what is aimed when you work. I like to stick to what John Baldessari wrote down “No more boring art”. Hopefully I can get up to the challenge to keep on being surprised. Be serious and relative.

FIVEquestions July 4, 2013

1) You’re work is often described as being absurd. Can absurdism be a conscious or intentional approach, or would this destroy its very nature?Absurdism means you believe there is no meaning in life. This doesn’t mean that all things happen unconscious. Maybe it’s even a more conscious believe than trying to explain the world around us to get a grip on things or whatever the reason might be.

2) Humor is at times seen as a mask within your work. Is this analysis fair, or is it overly simple? Maybe I do not understand this question. Everything and expecially humans have masks on. I don’t know how anyone could otherwise make sense of this world and find their way around. In my work I try to question life and the world in general. Humor seems a survival mechanism and a way of getting grip on things, maybe. I am quite seriously working though…

3) If it is fair, then how do you negotiate making work that is purposely humorous, whilst maintaining a sense of honesty, or feeling true to yourself? I believe a mask can hide something from view, without necessarily being deceptive. Is the line between hiding something and deception one that you find yourself negotiating in the making of your work? I am really not a native english bloke so after reading this question a couple of times, I’d have to say -maybe-. I mean, maybe I get the question now. For me a mask isn’t necessarily hiding, it’s most faces I see. I am also a different person in person than in this email that I can think and write and think and rewrite and think and delte and so on. I feel true to myself in the sense that I don’t take things too serious, so also not the people I see. Therefore there could be a distance. But I think this distance leaves a large enough gap for people to jump in and make their own stories. Does this make any sense in relation to your question or is it bullocks? – just wanted to write bullocks for the first time ever -

SANNA HELENA BERGER: Do you have a cat?

JAAP SCHEERENI unfortunately have no cat. I would like to have a black one but have to say only if it is stuffed, can’t seem to find it. I do have a mouse and a bird.

SHB: Are they all stuffed, the mouse and the bird? I found you a bobcat but its pretty expensive. I love taxidermy. I’ve always fancied a hawk or some bird of prey, it would have to be huge. Im a vegetarian but i love taxidermy, is that allowed?
JSMy animals are indeed all stuffed so they never walk away when you pet them. The bobcat is a little bit on the expensive side (if this is english since it’s directly translated from dutch) but you knew that. Taxidermic animals all died of a natural cause so if you do eat roadkill, you should be fine. I saw a series of birds eating a lot of plastic but it’s quite famous so you probably know it.. I think birds shouldn’t be allowed to eat plastics as well..

JSAnd you, do you have any pets?
SHB: No, I don’t have any pets. I dont really like pets. although I would like a french bulldog, I would call him MR Charles Edward Hubbert and he would wear a bowtie. I used to have a hamster when i was little, my brothers used to put her on the record player and play it, my hamster would spin round and get so nervous she would poo little hamster poos all over the record. They also used to joke about putting it in the oven, which made me cry, but they never did.

JSWhen I was really young I had a rabbit. I did kind of the same as you did with the hamster. I would throw sand in his cage because than he would jump around and move a bit more than usual. Once my parents knew I did this and told me to stop I quit paying attention to the rabbit and a few weeks later my parents took it to an animal farm.

SHB: Were you a bad boy when you were little or were you nice and timid?
JSI would have to say nice and timid. All the naughtieness would be smiled away.. A bad boy sounds like I played doctor with my next door neighbour girl which I actually did I think. I was so young I can’t really remember if and what and how it went. I also thought until 2 years ago that I was bit by a dog when I was young but my parents told me it was my friend, since than I’m not afraid of dogs anymore.. What about you??Ever did anything you partially forgot or was misplaced as a  memory?

SHB: I have plenty of things that I think happened in my mind, rather than, in my childhood. I used to dream very vivid dreams when I had fever as a child, I was ill a lot, and some of those dreams have remained in my mind as memories rather than dreams. Even though I know they didn’t happen..

SHB: What season do you prefer?
JS: I most like the summer since finally you can go out again and play around. It has something to do with my work as well and when I’m done I can enjoy it more. In winter I would love to go on a 2-month holiday and skip winter but this has something to do with holidays like christmas as well.

SHB: I’m fond of summer too, i usually walk around looking for swings. I love swings. One of the places i lived in, in London had a swing outside and I used to swing a bit every day, I think it made me younger each time. Playgrounds are not just for kids!
I think when i have a kid, we’re just gonna hang out by the swings and then fingerpaint a lot and Playdo. Playdo is the shit, I did it with my niece the other week, she made really sucky stuff with mixed clay and things that were mainly blobs which she pretended were roses. I made perfect roses with individual petals and veins in the leaf. Hers were totally much better!
JSI’m sorry, I don’t share your fondness of swings, I get really sick within a minute. Fingerpaint I do like a lot. I used to babysit my nephews, 3 of them, who made a lot of trouble. On my website you can find a picture of them after a fingerpaint fight I did as a commission for my aunt. Good to hear that naivity is still the best way to make something worth while, although your rose with veins sounds nice as well.

SHB: Do you like children?
JSYes, I tink so. I have to re-frase, I understand why people like their children but not exactly why they always say they’re beautiful, they look like old wrinkled people but then ugly, and they shit their paints, (read, pants) cry for dinner and are blind. I like them once their older I think, but some of my friends who do have children also like them more when they start growing..?This sounds quite awfull once written down but ok..

SHB: Can you survive of making art or do you have to fill in the gaps with other work??How does one survive on making art?
JSI can’t survive on art but my work which I make money off is quite often related to it. I just get a theme or subject and fill it in any way I like. Of course this isn’t always the case but then I make money to make a new book or go on a trip. I do have an agent and a gallerie which makes these things easier since I’m not the easiest networking man, I don’t like to step up to a plate but when I feel comfortable it’s ok and comes easy. I hate authority though, what about you?

SHB: I am possibly the worst with authority. I dropped out of school when I was 16 cause I simply couldn’t understand how the teachers who’d never been anywhere could tell me about the world. It pissed me off. So I went to see for myself.

SHB: What do you think about facial hair?
JSI must say I find it convenient to have a little bit. But I never really think about it, I just hate shaving. With others I am never really paying attention. I had a girlfriend some time ago with a moustache but it was kind of nice and sweet I have to say.. What do you think about facial hair, do you have some?
SHB: Did she have a proper moustache or just little feathery hairs? I like beards and moustaches. I don’t have very much of either though, once in a while i get a little hair underneath my chin. I jank it out. but I like hair on women other than beards. A hairy armpit is a must and I would never get a bikini wax, hair on legs doesnt really matter, but i can think its really pretty in the summer to have shaved legs, a flowery dress but hairy armpits. Hmm, maybe its the odd proportions of hair that get me going…
JSShe had a kind of dark moustache but a good one.. It sound a bit odd indeed and like you haven’t decided yet..

SHB: What kind of beard do you have?
JSA small one


Jaap Scheeren: 3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months — Urbanautica (2009)

It is not easy to read into the work of Jaap Scheeren. What we should do is abandon the interpretation, to let ourself be surprised by the different returns that overlap through a spontaneity only apparent. Calls that at first glance may look ironic, fairy-tale and at times childish. But it’s not the point. In this series of Scheeren, there is the search for an introspective dialogue between the artist and the surrounding nature, there is a need to look and think about the nature not as an alien background. There is a desire, almost intimate, to sit within its essence to the point of becoming part of it, like a leaf hanging on a tree or a protraction of a trunk cut, for example. Or, again, to blend and camouflage oneself with the color of nature itself, which paradoxically is not ever completely recognizable.

3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months — Wytske van Keulen, Endless Lowlands (2009)

Afgelopen dinsdag was de opening van de tentoonstelling en boekpresentatie van Jaap Scheeren’s meest recente project ’3 roses, 9 ravens, 12 months’ in De Balie in Amsterdam. Hiermee was Jaap de eerste van een reeks presentaties geïnitieerd door fotografieplatform Fw: zij zullen dit jaar verantwoordelijk zijn voor de tentoonstellingen in De Balie. In de eerste reeks brengt Fw: ‘…onder de noemer ‘Faraway So Close’ werk bijeen van twee fotografen die ieder hun eigen wereld creëren door elementen uit de werkelijkheid te gebruiken en deze te reconstrueren in een nieuwe werkelijkheid, waarin wezenlijke zaken van het hedendaagse bestaan bevraagd worden. Tegelijkertijd stellen zij de afgebeelde werkelijkheid van de fotografie ter discussie. De presentaties gaan over het verhalende element in de fotografie; de sprookjesachtige-non-lineaire fictie.’ Het project dat Jaap presenteerde speelt zich af in Slowakije. ‘Aan de hand van Slowaakse sprookjes, toont hij een parallelle werkelijkheid die de waan van de dag relativeert met een gezonde dosis humor.’ Hoewel ik de presentatie van Jaap goed vond werken in de ruimte van De Balie merkte ik dat het een moeilijke opgave is daar je werk tentoon te stellen. Want hoe ga je om met een ruimte die in de eerste plaats dient als ‘cafe’, hoe voorkom je dat je werk enkel decoratie wordt. Ondanks de reputatie die de Balie heeft met zijn fotografie tentoonstellingen lijkt dit haast een onmogelijk opgave. Fijn is dan ook dat de publicatie die Jaap bij het project maakte naast de presentatie te zien is. Hierin komt het aanstekelijke enthousiasme en plezier waarmee de foto’s gemaakt zijn heel mooi tot zijn recht.

Naar aanleiding van deze opening stelde ik Jaap een aantal vragen over zijn werk en werkwijze.

W: Ben je tevreden met het project?

J: Heel erg tevreden. Ik vind het wel spannend geworden uiteindelijk en het was trouwens ook vrij spannend om te maken, mede doordat er een vrij korte deadline was van 3 weken of misschien wel 4.

W: Uit de serie ’3 roses, 9 ravens, 12 months’ en ook eerdere projecten kun je opmaken dat je heel intuitief en divers werkt. Toch begint iedere serie met een soort van plan. Hoe zie je die verhouding, tussen plan/idee en uiteindelijke uitwerking?

J: Ik zie dat plan als iets waar ik op terug kan vallen op momenten dat ik het even niet weet. Het zorgt ervoor dat ik op zoek blijf naar een bepaald beeld/plek en dat plan herlees ik zo vaak dat het helemaal in mijn hoofd zit. Vervolgens kom ik iets tegen wat me eraan doet denken en dan maak ik daar iets mee of van… Het oorspronkelijke idee kan overigens vrij ver af liggen van het uiteindelijke beeld. Bijvoorbeeld de ‘prinses in de toren’ is bij mij een prinses ingewikkeld in plastic, hangend in een boom geworden. De oorsprong is voor mij dan niet zo belangrijk meer. De verhouding plan en uitwerking is misschien niet echt belangrijk, wellicht vind ik gewoon zomaar van alles op een plek wat mijn associatie aan de gang zet, maar misschien is de houvast nog een soort van onzekerheid. Het zorgt er namelijk wel voor dat ik bepaalde dingen ook weer niet doe.

W: Hierop aansluitend, wat maakt nou een typische Jaap Scheeren foto?

J: Geen gelul, landschap is een landschapsfoto, portret een portret, dus staand. Geen lichteffecten, veel voorgrond-achtergrond en misschien een beetje vervreemdend soms, maar wel geloofwaardig. Aha, en ik hou van een zekere nonchalance in de foto, maar dat ben ik zelf ook, niet te af.

W: In het boek staat een foto van een persoon zittend op een berg onder een groene harige deken. Kun je bijvoorbeeld iets vertellen over hoe zo’n foto tot stand komt?

J: Ik was op zoek naar een wijze Slowaak die me kon vertellen hoe de natuur in elkaar zat en wat de relaties waren met alle sprookjes die blijkbaar zo belangrijk waren. Hij vertelde me dat op een berg in het noord-oosten ‘Moeder Natuur’ geboren was. Dit vond ik zo’n bijzonder verhaal dat we ernaartoe zijn gereden, de man was er nog nooit geweest, toen we daar aankwamen was hij zo onder de indruk dat hij daar uren onder die deken heeft gezeten. Ik zag zelf pas na een minuut of tien dat hij zo wel erg veel op diezelfde ‘Moeder Natuur’ leek.

W: De breedte in je werk is ook in je ‘onderwerpen’ terug te zien. ‘Het Zwarte Gat’ (associaties rond ‘zwarte gaten’, de uitzichtloze situatie die kan ontstaan na het afstuderen), ‘Oma Toos’ (je oma) en nu ‘3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months’ (sprookjes), maar ook de verschillende losse beelden die je maakt.  Wanneer is een onderwerp voor jou interessant om te fotograferen? Wanneer is iets voor jou fotografeerbaar? Of ben je daar helemaal niet bezig?

J: Wel een moeilijke vragen, vind ik. Een onderwerp is voor mij interessant als het nog niet ingevuld is of dichtgetimmerd. Als het nog diverse kanten op kan gaan… Er is bij mij niet één waarheid, de waarheid is voor iedereen anders.

Maar terugkomend op het eerste, ik heb vrij diverse interesses en als ik ergens zin in heb, dan wil ik dat gaan doen of me met dat onderwerp bezig houden. Zo zie ik dat identiteit, kleuren, chaos, onrecht en afsluiten… en oprechtheid, liefde… erg vaak terugkomen in mijn werk, maar ik kan me voorstellen dat je dit niet zo ziet omdat ik het niet direct zo verbeeld…

Alles is fotografeerbaar maar dit is niet altijd waar. Ik ben denk ik niet altijd bezig met of iets fotografeerbaar is, maar of iets interessant is om te fotograferen of aandacht aan te geven. Kan ik eraan draaien? Is er iets wat symbool kan zijn voor wat anders.

Contact + CV

+31 641401284


Print sales:



2013 — “Jaap Scheeren Cut Shaving”, Fw:

2012 — “Il/Elle s’appelle Margriet” icw H. Bloch, RVB books

2009 — “Fake Flowers in Full Colour” icw H. Gremmen, Fw: / “Gassboggreidn” icw H. Bloch & B. Aars, selfpublished

2008 — “3 roses, 9 ravens, 12 months”, Slovak fairytales, selfpublished / “Oma Toos” project, selfpublished

2006 — “The Black Hole” project together with A. Kruithof, Episode publishers

Exhibitions (selection)

 — “Spiegelrefleksies #3” EXTRAPOOL, NL (g)  /  “WIT/WHITE” Nederlands Fotomuseum Rotterdam, NL (g)  /  “Photography Extended” Valkhof Museum, NL (g)  /  “What you see is what you get” Eindhoven, NL (g)  /  “Contemporary photobooks” Lucid-Ly, UK (g)  /  “Still/Life” MAMM Moscow, RU (g)

 — “While they are hunting for big fish, we are emptying our bladder”, Huis voor beeldcultuur icw S. Knibbeler, Breda, NL (s)  /  “And suddenly everything made sense” RETORT, NL (g)  /  “Water Falls” Kunstpodium-T, NL (g)  /  “Also in this exhibition everybody got paid but the artist.” GRID photofestival, NL (g)

 — “The Day I took off my mask, I noticed my face was missing” Flatland gallery, NL (s)  /  “And suddenly everything made sense.” Mapamundistas, Pamplona, ES (g)  /  “Wonderland-Hyeres” KAFANA, NL (g)  /  “Fake Flowers in Full Colour” FOAM, NL (g)  /  Selection of work. Prague Biennale, CZ (g)  /  “This spot might mean shit to you but is the world to me.” Cobra Museum & Belvedere, NL (g)  /  “Fake Flowers in Full Colour” Kunstlerverein Malkasten Dusseldorf, DE (g)  /  BYOB, several cities, USA (g)

2010 — Photograpy in reverse, FOAM, NL (g)  /  “3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months” ShowOff Paris, FR (s)  /  “3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months” Quickscan, Nederlands Fotomuseum, NL  (g)  /

2009 — “Dutch Seen: NY Re-Discovered”, Museum of the City of New York, NY, USA (s)  /  “Pages” Photo Espana, ES (g)  /  “3 Roses, 9 Ravens, 12 Months”, De Balie, Amsterdam, NL (s)  /  “Het Zwarte Gat” F-stop festival, Leipzig, DE (g)

— “CMYK-project” i.c.w. Hans Gremmen, Het Wilde Weten, Rotterdam, NL (g)  /  “Love, design, delirium” Kunstraum Nieder-Osterreich, Vienna, AUS (g)  /   “(re)constructing reality” Paraplufabrieken, Nijmegen, NL (g)  /  6th Biennale of photography and visual arts: MAMAC, Liège, BE (g)  /  “Pages” photobook exhibition in Nederlands Fotomuseum, Rotterdam, Dorottya Gallery, Boedapest, Fotofruhling, Kassel, DU (g)

— Galerie Gana-Beaubourg, Paris, FR (g)  /  Villa Noailles, Hyeres, FR (s)  /  “Dutch Dare”, Jakarta, Indonesia (g)

— Australian Center of Photography, Sydney, Australia at exhibition “Dutch Dare”, AUSTRALIA (g)  /  L’espace bellevaux, Lausanne, Switserland at exhibition “De Amsterdam”, CH (g)  /  Stedelijk Museum CS, foto drukwerk, Amsterdam (g) Villa Noailles, Hyères, Fr (s)  /  FOAM, Amsterdam, “The Black Hole ” i.c.w. Anouk Kruithof , NL (g)  /  ACF, Amsterdam, NL (g)

— froempatjoeki, Breda Photo (g)

 /  RCC,, Keulen, D (g)  /  KOP, Breda, NL (g)  /  Vondelpark Amsterdam, Bob und Jaap, Foam exposition (g)
  /  Station Breda , vitrine nr. 8, NL (s)

— Van Zoetendaal galery, Amsterdam, NL (g)
  /  Dutch Photomuseum, Rotterdam, NL (g)
  / Link, Breda Photo, NL (g)
  /  Fotoning, Breda Photo, NL (g)  /  ACF, Amsterdam, NL (g) 
 /  Nominated Art Stimulationprize Amstelveen, NL (g) 
 /  Köln, Xantener Str. Tor 4, CAP III, D (g) 
 /  Terneuzen city council, NL (g)
  /  Eindexamenexpositie St. Joost, Breda, NL (g) 
 /  Photofestival Naarden, NL (g) 
 /  ‘Pictura’ at Dordrecht, NL (g)


2011 — Bouw in Beeldprijs with the series “This spot might mean shot to you but is the world to me.”

2006 — Honourable mention of the book “The Black Hole” at the Rencontres d’Arles book award / Winner (ex aequo) 21 Hyères photography competition of the Festival International de Mode et de Photographie d’Hyères, 2006 
2005  / Unique Photography Prize, bookpublishing “The Black Hole ”Anouk Kruithof/Jaap Scheeren

2003 — Honourable mention, Steenbergenstipendium