Designer/Writer Â
Filmtheater Kriterion - November 2021 - 80 pages
Designed in collaboration with Lulu van Dijck, Isis van der Knaap, & Anne Schenkels.
'75 jaar Kriterion - er staat niemand achter de bar' is a zine to commemorate the 75th anniversary of community-run cinema Kriterion in Amsterdam. The zine doubles as a programme booklet for the filmfestival that Kriterion hosted for their 75th anniversary – which I co-curated. Both the zine and the filmfestival aimed to highlight the rich history of Kriterion; started by resistance students just after World War 2, nowadays still a non-profit cinema, bar and cultural space fully run by students. The zine celebrates this history through writings by regulars and (former) members of the Kriterion collective. The filmfestival aimed to capture Kriterion's spirit through 24 films that were exemplary of the zeitgeist at the time, as well as 15 films that illustrated the concept of 'autonomy.' Each zine comes with 1 out of 12 posters dedicated to a specific period of Kriterion's history.
Aside from designing part of the magazine, I also wrote multiple entries for the zine, some of them in collaboration with Luna Hupperetz.Â
Writings by me, Jeremy Diego, Luna Hupperetz, Anne Schenkels, Jan-Pieter 't Hart, Anna Boogaard, Annelore van Gool, Ruben van den Bosch, Floor van der Vliet, Roald de Boer, & Lieve de Vreede.
Designer/Writer Â
Filmtheater Kriterion - November 2021 - 80 pages
Designed in collaboration with Lulu van Dijck, Isis van der Knaap, & Anne Schenkels.
'75 jaar Kriterion - er staat niemand achter de bar' is a zine to commemorate the 75th anniversary of community-run cinema Kriterion in Amsterdam. The zine doubles as a programme booklet for the filmfestival that Kriterion hosted for their 75th anniversary – which I co-curated. Both the zine and the filmfestival aimed to highlight the rich history of Kriterion; started by resistance students just after World War 2, nowadays still a non-profit cinema, bar and cultural space fully run by students. The zine celebrates this history through writings by regulars and (former) members of the Kriterion collective. The filmfestival aimed to capture Kriterion's spirit through 24 films that were exemplary of the zeitgeist at the time, as well as 15 films that illustrated the concept of 'autonomy.' Each zine comes with 1 out of 12 posters dedicated to a specific period of Kriterion's history.
Aside from designing part of the magazine, I also wrote multiple entries for the zine, some of them in collaboration with Luna Hupperetz.Â
Writings by me, Jeremy Diego, Luna Hupperetz, Anne Schenkels, Jan-Pieter 't Hart, Anna Boogaard, Annelore van Gool, Ruben van den Bosch, Floor van der Vliet, Roald de Boer, & Lieve de Vreede.
yada yada lorum ipsum
Following precedent for such occasions, neither Stuyvesant nor Nicolls was present for the meeting that then took place, but each had chosen a slate of commissioners to negotiate the transfer of the colony. Stuyvesant's included four Dutchmen, one Englishman, and one Frenchman; Nicolls's representatives were two of his aides and four New Englanders, including John Winthrop.
Then, as all attention shifted to the waterfront, where Nicolls and his main body of troops was coming ashore, a small party of English soldiers entered the deserted fort. Outside, the harbor winds were swirling around the interested throng of mixed nationalities who watched as an English flag went up the flagpole and listened as Nicolls declared the place renamed for his patron, the Duke of York and Albany. Inside the fort, meanwhile, a few soldiers climbed to the office of the colonial secretary, above the gate. In any Change of government, gaining possession of the records is among the first steps, for to control a society's vital documents is to control its past and fu-ture. The soldiers found what they were looking for: rows of bulky leather-bound volumes, forty-eight in all, numbered consecutively on their spines, A to Z and then AA through PP. Wills, deeds, minutes, correspondence, complaints, petitions, confrontations, agreements- it was all here, meticulously maintained, year by year, day by day, the story of America's first mixed society.
Then, as all attention shifted to the waterfront, where Nicolls and his main body of troops was coming ashore, a small party of English soldiers entered the deserted fort. Outside, the harbor winds were swirling around the interested throng of mixed nationalities who watched as an English flag went up the flagpole and listened as Nicolls declared the place renamed for his patron, the Duke of York and Albany. Inside the fort, meanwhile, a few soldiers climbed to the office of the colonial secretary, above the gate. In any Change of government, gaining possession of the records is among the first steps, for to control a society's vital documents is to control its past and fu-ture. The soldiers found what they were looking for: rows of bulky leather-bound volumes, forty-eight in all, numbered consecutively on their spines, A to Z and then AA through PP. Wills, deeds, minutes, correspondence, complaints, petitions, confrontations, agreements- it was all here, meticulously maintained, year by year, day by day, the story of America's first mixed society.
Then, as all attention shifted to the waterfront, where Nicolls and his main body of troops was coming ashore, a small party of English soldiers entered the deserted fort. Outside, the harbor winds were swirling around the interested throng of mixed nationalities who watched as an English flag went up the flagpole and listened as Nicolls declared the place renamed for his patron, the Duke of York and Albany. Inside the fort, meanwhile, a few soldiers climbed to the office of the colonial secretary, above the gate. In any Change of government, gaining possession of the records is among the first steps, for to control a society's vital documents is to control its past and fu-ture. The soldiers found what they were looking for: rows of bulky leather-bound volumes, forty-eight in all, numbered consecutively on their spines, A to Z and then AA through PP. Wills, deeds, minutes, correspondence, complaints, petitions, confrontations, agreements- it was all here, meticulously maintained, year by year, day by day, the story of America's first mixed society.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
yada yada lorum ipsum
Following precedent for such occasions, neither Stuyvesant nor Nicolls was present for the meeting that then took place, but each had chosen a slate of commissioners to negotiate the transfer of the colony. Stuyvesant's included four Dutchmen, one Englishman, and one Frenchman; Nicolls's representatives were two of his aides and four New Englanders, including John Winthrop.
Then, as all attention shifted to the waterfront, where Nicolls and his main body of troops was coming ashore, a small party of English soldiers entered the deserted fort. Outside, the harbor winds were swirling around the interested throng of mixed nationalities who watched as an English flag went up the flagpole and listened as Nicolls declared the place renamed for his patron, the Duke of York and Albany. Inside the fort, meanwhile, a few soldiers climbed to the office of the colonial secretary, above the gate. In any Change of government, gaining possession of the records is among the first steps, for to control a society's vital documents is to control its past and fu-ture. The soldiers found what they were looking for: rows of bulky leather-bound volumes, forty-eight in all, numbered consecutively on their spines, A to Z and then AA through PP. Wills, deeds, minutes, correspondence, complaints, petitions, confrontations, agreements- it was all here, meticulously maintained, year by year, day by day, the story of America's first mixed society.
Then, as all attention shifted to the waterfront, where Nicolls and his main body of troops was coming ashore, a small party of English soldiers entered the deserted fort. Outside, the harbor winds were swirling around the interested throng of mixed nationalities who watched as an English flag went up the flagpole and listened as Nicolls declared the place renamed for his patron, the Duke of York and Albany. Inside the fort, meanwhile, a few soldiers climbed to the office of the colonial secretary, above the gate. In any Change of government, gaining possession of the records is among the first steps, for to control a society's vital documents is to control its past and fu-ture. The soldiers found what they were looking for: rows of bulky leather-bound volumes, forty-eight in all, numbered consecutively on their spines, A to Z and then AA through PP. Wills, deeds, minutes, correspondence, complaints, petitions, confrontations, agreements- it was all here, meticulously maintained, year by year, day by day, the story of America's first mixed society.
Then, as all attention shifted to the waterfront, where Nicolls and his main body of troops was coming ashore, a small party of English soldiers entered the deserted fort. Outside, the harbor winds were swirling around the interested throng of mixed nationalities who watched as an English flag went up the flagpole and listened as Nicolls declared the place renamed for his patron, the Duke of York and Albany. Inside the fort, meanwhile, a few soldiers climbed to the office of the colonial secretary, above the gate. In any Change of government, gaining possession of the records is among the first steps, for to control a society's vital documents is to control its past and fu-ture. The soldiers found what they were looking for: rows of bulky leather-bound volumes, forty-eight in all, numbered consecutively on their spines, A to Z and then AA through PP. Wills, deeds, minutes, correspondence, complaints, petitions, confrontations, agreements- it was all here, meticulously maintained, year by year, day by day, the story of America's first mixed society.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.
And so they did. The fifteen hundred residents of New Amsterdam, the ten thousand inhabitants of the colony of New Netherland, turned their backs on the company that had long ignored them. Griet Reyniers, onetime Amsterdam barmaid who became Manhattan's first prostitute, abandoned it. So did her husband, Anthony "the Turk" van Salee, the half-Morroccan former pirate. They were now wealthy landowners on Long Island, and their four daughters were married to some of New Amsterdam's up-and-coming businessmen. Joris Rapalje, who with his bride Catalina Trico com-pised the Adam and Eve of the colony had reemdy died, but Catalina ma shitery nuch alive as werehergrown dild ren and ten families and g so, preferred to acquiesce rather than die. The same went for Aser lon, the Polish, Jew who had batled Suvesant over the rights of Jews, and noy, owned Manhattan's first kosher butcher shop, and for Manuel "the Giane Gerrit, the African who had escaped hanging in 1641 and who for the par five years had been living as a free landowner on a small farm near Stuyvesant's bouverie. For all of these people, living peaceably under an English prince who promised to continue the way of life they had fashioned was patently better than fighting and dying.
And so he relented. "I would much rather be carried out dead," he said, and surely everyone believed him, but instead he named six men to meet with their English counterparts and negotiate terms. They met at Stuyvesant's farm. And the next Monday, at eight in the morning, Stuyvesant, fifty-four-years-old, thick of build, with his cuirass and his limp and his small, bold eyes, led a military procession out of the fort, with drummers drumming and flags waving.