My dream started in 1983 in Australia, it came from a magazine called Simple Living. A very glossy magazine with more adverts about face creams than about growing pumpkins.

eucaaus 001

Under the EUCALYPTUS tree

Something started right there amongst the amazing colour photos, in the middle the real simple pages printed on recycled paper printed with green ink. Every month it was my reading dream development. Wondering over pages wandering into places.
A trip, a long trip followed up the New South Wales coast to Byron Bay. A bit inland lays a magical place called Nimbin the north of Lismore, a place filled with alternative communities.
A piece of land was found with a small creek running along the borders of each plot. By the road was the communal ‘garage’ with shared tractor, pumps, generator and all sort of tools you need to start that glossy simple life.
The next step was the plans for a A frame house right there in the bush-land under the Eucalyptus trees.
Every cent was saved and in 1985 the amount did count to the start when it all was stolen away but  a dream stayed.



Years and years later after many pumpkins grown and sold, the simple dream shaped up again, the green fingers scratched a surface of possibilities in Pembrokeshire, in the year of 2002.
Clegyr Boia, came my way, on the coast of Old South Wales, 16 acres of agricultural land laid ruin before my feet an old rock stand strong behind my back.
What followed was some of the best months of my life. Waking up with chickens and dog eating eggs and porridge in a tiny caravan called the Bubble. The best work evolved here in them glorious months. Tree after tree went into the tired soil, seed after seed was sowed, herb after herb planted to create a dream.
The first name for the land was ‘DreamLand’ my phone bill comes still under that name from the phone co-op. A small rock before the big rock Clegyr Boia became my dream rock.


illusionary vision

The change it brought to me lays within my soil and grows on right here right now.
Yet, it was short lived as the authorities came and toke my dream away under the motto of visual impact and the scream of ‘farming topicality’. They shovel me into a concrete heap and the bubble was removed.

My costs of living tripled in just one week, 2 days at the locale coffee shop became illative. Some of the land was sold to pay the bills, yet was gained again with a simple contract to keep doing what i started. The bubble came back to give me sanity amongst the dying land. More trees were planted, Aboriginal Artists came to sing the land. Yet, the concrete scream hunted me the dream stayed alive and kicking.
An other day came of hurting bones, broken heart, shaking breath, no longer could i stay in a bubble of life. Death would enter the woods i created as i no longer could look after it so once again the partial dream ended right there right than for the search of something new.


A change into a chance

I found it!

Once again my dream is alive and will happen somewhere next year. On a place to rest my bones in the warm sunshine, the dry hills along the flowing river down to the sea of shells and plants.

In 2003 i wrote in the back of a book the following:

To leave a society of ever more is hard. You leave the world of money and have to find ways to live with little or no money. You will live in your own created world away from reality making your own needs, the needs that cost little to nothing. 

No commercial will tell me what to buy, no paper tells me how to live, no screen will show me what to fear.

Next to this i wrote a more spiritual sense.

Unconscious feeling to get in touch with my own created surrounding/habitat with only one aim to leave things behind when i am far and gone. So I can walk towards the arms of dead with a smile. It will give me chance to choose my own dead. 



The finalising of the life dream comes at the end of my life, perhaps i knew when, after reading that one book, what would come to me.

I can do this thanks to the cents my Ma en Pa saved during their life, giving them to me after their dead.

I move onto a small plot of land, to grow pumpkins once again to have chickens running free and a dog to raise me out of bed.

An other bubble will enter the land and i will dream my life away or perhaps not as the final line said in the back of the book:

It is not the meditation in a dream it is the reality of no reason.

You can come and stay in a glossy simple way.

See you there.


the hills behind my back

By the way the book is called: Straw Dogs by John Gray, ‘Thoughts on humans and other animals’
isbn: 1-86207-596-4


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There is no such thing as constant growth it will go over into decline at a stage. A known factor since 1972 with the publication of ‘The Limits to Growth’ published by The Club of Rome. http://www.clubofrome.org

In September 2011 i made this piece of land art Hubbert Curve. It reminds me why things are as they are and why we stay onto the wrong track.
The Club of Rome made me aware of things very early and i acted upon it my growth has been limited. Yet the planted trees and plants on the 19 acres around the world which my hands touched do grow year by year.

I post this for the younger generation to be inspired as i once was, but don’t take my worth or image read the links.

An other good article to read.



hubbert curve

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How do you finalise a piece of art that will never be finished?  By leaving it behind to let somebody else take over and put their marks on the work. How can you leave something so dear to oneself?  By leaving the final marks.

ceramic pots left behind

ceramic pots left behind

It began with bare ground it ended in an oases of all kind of bits and pieces, with a thousand stories to tell. A big piece of art, that didn’t cost a small fortune. A lot of my energy and resources lay upon that piece of once bare soil, 2.2 acres as art within 16 acres of total art. You don’t just leave that behind, you don’t just dig that up, you don’t just walk on by.

the final knot on the centre of it al

the final knot on the centre of it al

A year of saying goodbye with the final knot. All the pieces of collected, found and leftover rope came out of the shed and was ordered. The centre piece was one thick piece of rope and the knotting lines was all sort.

the making of the final knot

the making of the final knot

It laid in the 4 direction circle, which changed time after time and that year remained empty. The knot is 14 metres long, not something you make inside. Whenever the time was right some more knots were added. Finally it came in the centre of the witch-wheel hanging and circling around driftwood and the centre piece of wood, one of the first pieces of driftwood that was dug in the land. An old oar from a boat was added. Only later it came how significant that oar will be for the future.

the start of 25 fragments

the start of 25 fragments

While dreaming in the gossamer circle the 25 fragments was born. Old terracotta pots were gathered. These pots stood once central for a very different idea; sculptural pots with sculptural plants now they will be the final circle.

final 25 fragments

final 25 fragments

They made a line, upside down, to alter the world to make sculptural roots. I would never see if it would work, leave it all behind.

Gossamer was made again for the very last time. Things became the things for the last time for the closing off the gate that never was.

the final Gossamer web making over the nest of still

the final Gossamer web making over the nest of still

The final trip over the land came as the work was done what could have been done. The winter stood upon the land.

final trip over the land

final trip over the land

Off we went now others came and the land was entrusted in their hands i took the last photo and left it to start something new. What was new, what was old, how to combine a lost story with the never told story? A wandering into nowhere came upon me, a search to ……..

the small is beautiful

the small is beautiful

Perhaps the new zen the new positive in the small not the large but where and how to sell. A total search into what is and isn’t possible, confronting a reality of the breaking morning into the new direction.  Scraping paper into the bin one plan after the other than you miss what was left behind than you doubt why it was for the best.

my final dream

my final dream

After a year of searching a new start was made and than i went back to the land to see it was for the best. Deep in that soil lays a part of me nobody can dig out. The Zen of it was not mine it is not yours we just pass it on stays in my mind.

no words

no words

It really feels good not to have to have and leave it behind.

You can follow me now on Wånderlust.

and so we go on

and so we go on



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growing hair




Jardin d'email


goed kunst is niet het gene waarvan men zegt go wat knap

goede kunst is het gene wat jijzelf niet echt snapt

het komt van het gevoel

het komt naar je toe


art is not clever it is a feeling


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zal ik je weer vinden
de rivieren


het water vult alle gaten
met vloeibare golven
zo ging het jaar achter jaar


en alles loopt
weer leeg
maar toch soms kan je het weer vinden
jaren later


wanner je het niet meer
vaart het zomaar voorbij
het lege raam
dan zie je hem staan


het gedroogde bloed
heeft ook een zwakke gloed
al zal je het niet weten
ik zal je niet vergeten


als jij de laatste golfjes ziet
sta ik naast je als een
even later als het zwart weer vergaat
als de zon in het water vaart
denk ik altijd aan
jouw laatste moment


ter herinnering


die mij de rivieren heeft laten zien


this poem is as it is no translation can come as the language is spoken as it is written it is in memory of my dad who just a few weeks ago sailed his last journey.

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tree art


making art with a tree

Made with willow by weaving to branches together and letting them grow



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The BRIDGE forest art

The Vagdavercustis at Clegyr Boia is going to roll on into a new Land Art project called the Bridge.

You can read all about it on the following blog and become a part of it.


eucaswalledgardenWe all can plant trees as art to become small eco warriors to create a large message.

plant trees as art


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