responding rain


   a circle, a line, a cross


   when the fire and the rock


   143 folds


   never, nowhere


   hits of sunshine


   burn our wings


   etudes autrales


   portrait memory


   undecided photographs




   black body ()

   seeing a rainbow


   a vale of desolation


   what is behind that curtain





   seeing a rainbow


   fungi (coming)

fungi C002, 2019, Archival inkjet print with thermochromic paint 27°C, framed in steel with wooden finish, 30 x 40 cm, Unique



In the autumn of 2019 I photographed fungi in Dudenpark, Brussels. Fungi are the oldest living species on our planet. They build and spread their communities across human borders, continents, laws ... They take over land without asking permission. They clean up toxic messes in disturbed landscapes and shake the land back to life to create livable grounds for animals, plants and maybe humans. They have the power to transport energy between weaker and stronger trees, to keep forests alive or to kill them. Their spores are invisible and spread and spread and spread. “The uncontrolled lives of mushrooms are a gift — and a guide — when the controlled world we thought we had fails.”


(Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, ‘The Mushroom at the End of the World, On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins’, Princeton University Press, 2015)


The project consists of an installation and a publication. The accrochage shows a number of blow-ups of marcro-photographed fungi. The prints will appear and disappear according to the temperature in the room. Two heating systems are installed under the works to provide change. By a timing system the heaters will go on and off. The viewer will not be able to control what he sees. Each hour the images will be different showing and hiding parts of the work. The (un) natural process of appearance is accompanied by the responsibility, care and patience of the spectator.

fungi B005, 2019, Archival inkjet print with thermochromic paint 27°C, framed in black steel 30 x 40 cm, Unique

fungi B004, 2019, Archival inkjet print with thermochromic paint 27°C, framed in black steel 30 x 40 cm, Unique

installation with 2 electric heatingsystems, Poppositions critical artfair, Tour à Plomb, Brussels, april 2019


look around

where have you landed

a place where everything points down

pulls down

all arrows point down

down to the earth

the soil is wet

the leaves are wet and rotting

smoke rises from the ground


humans are gone

not entirely

not gone gone

but reduced in number significantly

there used to be so many

spread out swarms

covering the entire earth

the earth

like caught in a web

like cast in iron

like entered on all sides

like sucked at

like swallowed


there’s chunks of cigarette butts and flushes of vomit

strains of plastic

corrosive liquids

dripping from sources where once there used to be streams of drinkable water



non-nostalgic reminders of what’s gone

the places where they lived and fucked and slept and ate

their pace their time their self

they’re gone

wiped out

swept away



a few traumatized survivors pushed to the edges of the world

hiding in the tropical pockets of the globe

strange sounds come from their hide-outs

they’re training their tongues

clicking and slushing

they’re taking integration courses

forced to speak languages that are not theirs


the pace of the place is not theirs

not anymore

it’s replaced by the pace of snails

of snakes

of worms and moss and mushrooms

hybrid pioneers

moving through wet land

wet leaves

without eyes


moving with their skins,

with their tongues,

with tentacles, tiny hooks and suction pads instead of feet


the sound of birds

birds dropping from the trees

falling on the ground like raindrops

time speeds up

so fast you cannot keep track

their bodies shrink and get wrapped up in grass

wrapped up in leaves

eaten up


sucked into the ground

seedlings push through their skeletons

and their thin bones crumble

turn into chalk

turn into clay

turn into water

the sound of dripping

thick dripping

like slush

like thick slimes

like being dragged up a hill

feet first

through slush and wet leaves and compost

and branches that snap

while the elements around you

and inside of you ramble


and mushrooms releasing their spores

spores flung into the sky

spread out like fingers

spread out like a hand

entering nostrils

entering lungs

entering minds

the minds of worms, blackbirds, snakes, wolves, monsters, apes

entering them

connecting them with buzzing strings



passing pulsating liquid

liquid knowledge between them


touch it

touch them

bodies with the texture of a sponge

brooding creatures

creatures brooding

brooding on dark eggs




Hannah De Meyer