My work involves movement: hence, it also entails space and time, changes, life, history.
I perceive an overwhelming beauty in processes of movement and change. We only have to take a simple change like light into darkness. It displays such an amazing amount of spatial, physical and psychological aspects that it may be likened to a journey from one world into another.
I'm particularly fascinated by the intangibility of all the subtle movements lying in be tween these extremes.
In the case of theater, music and dance, these kinds of changes and movements are mostly used as means towards narrating a story. Although they constitute the actual story in my work, they are in fact metaphors of life itself.
Initially my work focused on the movements of my own body; transformations that are subject to a stringent formal and temporal process and that gradually tauten my relaxed body.
The sensation of such a movement is that of an adventurous physical and mental journey through time.
A composition of this sort — lasting but several minutes — consists of only two elements: body outline and strength, change and time.
The nature of this process causes me to concentrate on these elements alone, or carrying it even further, forces me to concentrate on these elements. I feel that, as a result, it creates an aura and I strive towards compressing the elements I wish to deal with into a sculpture of concentration.
It is in fact this quest for perfection that, to my mind, is the quintessence of every work of art. The searching acts as a kind of leitmotif throughout my work: each element should contribute as much as possible to the concept, in an eternal attempt to capture the impalpable.
It is a constant battle with the composition's elements. Every new composition requires one to redefine the subject and determine the existential and non-existential factors.
I also touch upon the traditional forms of expression of past centuries: rituals, theater, architecture, dance, vocals, drums, music.
At the same time I long to establish contact with these traditions; history plays a major role in every composition.
These initial body changes occasioned a greater involvement with space, both on an architectural and on a cosmic level.
My body (physical strength) functions as a central motor for a spatial and temporal movement.
The compositions become encounters between human and other sources of energy: light, clouds, waves, the wind.
In a further stage I no longer consider it essential that I myself am actually performing the composition, and I invite other people to participate in the composition.
What remains is pure form, both in space and in time, whereby I act as a designer and organizer.
However, by making the composition dependent on other people, it grows more vulnerable, unstable, but also livelier.
To me, it is precisely this instability and vivaciousness that create the movement's monumentality.
In the end, the quest for space and freedom is what matters most, even if the shape is strict and symmetrical.
"Clouds" and "waves" are about the only words that are available to me as titles for my pieces. But don't they also describe unstable and poetic occurrences?
This dichotomy is perhaps a part of the Dutch tradition of art: land of the sea, clouds, rains, whilst at the same time being so small and orderly in symmetrical and rhythmic lines and spaces (I'm referring to Mondrian).

Starting from an upright, relaxed position, I add a simple alteration to of my physical posture, until I've attained a state of extreme tension.
Afterwards, the shape and tension diminish until the initial position is resumed.
I approach the completion of the entire process as slowly as possible and with the utmost degree of concentration.