After about forty years of professionally putting colors on canvasses here some reflections...

First of all, I seem to love to paint. Why? Who knows and looking for an answer is useless. It is a nice way to loose energy, to go through life in a joyful way. But the big question is how and what to paint?

In the visual arts all rules and regulations have vanished. We can look in any direction and say: 'this is great art!' It is a liberation, but there is a consequence. When all is allowed revolution is a pathetic gesture.

How could this happen? Apart from the philosophical breakthrough photography has helped. It freed us from the realistic image. It created many revolutions. This consequential explosion of movements started with the impressionists. Ever since the visual arts have more and more the characteristics of the tower of Babel. Now that all the dust has lied down, we are left with an endless horizon at our feet.

Quite hard to find one’s own language in this confusion.

In the text ‘IN SEARCH OF A STYLE’ I analyzed my trajectory through the visual arts (click on the grey text to go to the link).

I didn’t mention the trips into areas like action painting, conceptual art objects and other to me useless territories. I felt I had to try these too, but got bored quickly.

For me the essence of painting is the attempt to confront myself with reality and out of this create a new one. Probably I love to be occupied with something in between me and reality. I am happier in my own created one.

When a model confessed me that she was an exhibitionist, I answered that we were a good match. I am a voyeur.

In my young rascal years I held my sermons. Sermons about how one should make art, what was of value and what not. I felt I had a message to get across (go for a new useless revolution?).

In the last ten years I reached the point where most of the anger, the kicking against the ‘holy dogmas’, the desire to shock or convince has vanished.

What is left is to find out what makes this occupation worthwhile for me and me alone.

To strive for beauty I guess. This aim found is a liberation.

But how to paint beauty? What is beauty?

Plato didn’t have the answer and in the following ages many tried in vain to get it pinned down. Only the ignorant found the definitive answer. In this world we are left by ourselves, nobody to give a helping hand.

And to make things even worse: beauty is like a piece of soap. When you think you have it, it slips away…

Only by looking back, I have the feeling of having stepped on it here and there. Beauty presents itself as made not by me. It just popped up when I was looking in the other direction trying to find it. It doesn’t tell me where I should go to produce more.

The flower-paintings showed up in these last ten years. I don’t think this is a coincidence. I needed time to let go and accept beauty in an uncomplicated way. No need for cutting edge, avant-garde, difference for the sake of being different or to outsmart people by pulling their legs. Painting flowers is a good therapy.

It is hard enough to paint these flowers and to strive for beauty. It keeps me busy and that is nice. If I can create some windows that give a view of paradise, I think I should be grateful.

Utrecht, June 25 2021.

What do I notice as different after the first three months? It is hard to say, the situation is so unusual thanks to the virus.

I listen much to Iberian music. Is that trying to avoid ‘cold turkey’?

Apart from MARIZA (I cannot have nostalgic feelings of her city or country) I discovered MIGUEL POVEDA.

And I watched videos of ROCIO MOLINA.

On the first painting started and finished in the Netherlands a bull is present.

'FIESTA'

The painting now on the easel is an assignment that will go to Barcelona.

Still, I will not walk around with the newspaper ‘El Pais’ in my hip pocket, as an Italian friend (with ‘Il Corriere della Sera’) did while living in Paris.

Is it old age or due to the change of surrounding that I have problems with languages? My Catalan is atrocious, my English and Dutch sound sticky and wooden every once in a while. I have problems remembering names. This can also be blamed to turpentine. Time will tell.

The surprise of the first week; 'Wow there are a lot of Dutch speaking people on the street!' is gone. 

I don’t want to compare the people here too much to those that surrounded me the last twenty years. I notice some differences, but most of my friends broke loose from on nationalities connected characteristics.

In the streets things are different. In Barcelona most streets are one way, here hardly any are. Many Dutch houses are two stories high. The stairs inside are steep! The cyclists are king of the road and they go fast! Dutch girls have the most beautiful calves in the world. You will not see laundry hanging out to dry from the balconies. And there are not as many pharmacies.

Very curious (to me) was on that one sunny Sunday the amount of people with just a t-shirt over their torso sipping white wine in front of their house. I cycled passed in a winter coat with a thick shawl and gloves on. I suffer from a Mediterranean thermostat?

And many passed by eating something out of a plastic cup. Is this thanks to the Dutch tradition of 'eating out of the wall'?

Will I fall for that too? In Barcelona I preferred not even to eat my ice cream walking down the street. I stopped doing so, especially after that one afternoon when a pigeon shitted my neck and shoulder full.

Food, how and what is important. It tells much about the local people and their ways. For me the place where I live does not influence my food habits. The hours and ammount of what I eat depend on my work, so they are sort of the same wherever I live. The lunch should not take much time; these hours are the best light hours.

In the evening cooking with a glass of wine nearby is pleasant. Painting with a glass of wine next to the palette doesn’t work, not for me…

As expected, the Santa Caterina market is dearly missed. Here there is a fishmonger nearby, but when I enter the shop I smell the fish... I haven't bought a slice of tuna and doubt if I ever will. Fish was one of the sorts of food I ate much in Barcelona...

I am looking forward to my first visit to Barcelona. What will be the thing I want to do (apart from giving my daughter a huge hug) or eat? On arriving in Italy, I have to drink a cappuccino, no matter how late it is. In the Netherlands it used to be a 'broodje halfom' and of course a slice of bread with 'pindakaas en hagelslag'.

Tapas? I guess not because not very Catalan.

I cherish the jug of OLIVE OIL OF ARBECA, but that jug is here in the kitchen. TORRÒ DE GEMA you eat around Christmas. Friends always gave me a couple around Christmas; I hope to visit Barcelona earlier.

What then???

I searched on youtube for an answer. I remembered the wonderful film: 'LA TETA Y LA LUNA'. In the end that is about food too... In the trailer I saw the castellers! I must have seen these human towers built more than ten times and they still give me goose bums.

CASTELLERS

It will be unlikely that a castellers competition will be held to celebrate my return... And no food then? Strange if you think I ate at 'El Bulli' and 'Disfrutar'...

The great thing is that when I go back there, it will be something like returning home without the daily hangups.

Holidays at home...

And in the meantime I found a magic butcher here. You just have to look. A place where I can order a slice of LIVER (to prepare with unions and parsley).

Click on the grey words in CAPITAL LETTERS  to go to the links.

I had a zoom talk with a bit many people. It was the birthday of a great friend. Everybody talked and nobody could get any message through… Even if there were only two languages spoken, it was like the tower of Babel.

In a party you talk with maximum three at the same time, with zoom it is all for themselves and god for all…

The other occasions when talking zoom with a group I got depressed. So many dear friends I could not see, could not touch. I thought it better not to join anymore.

This time I was prepared (I felt I had to join) and so it didn’t kick in too hard. But still… I love all of them and it felt like talking through milk glass…

So after the zoom meeting, what should I do to get rid of the irritation? I grabbed the bottle and put on Graham Parker and the Rumour:  ‘Hey Lord don’t ask me questions’. Teenage anger (click on the title to go to the video). YES!!!

They say wisdom comes with the years. I hope to have accumulated some, but I have remained a ‘Sturm und Drang’ type. Anger is still a force I drive on; luckily it can be a positive force. It makes me jump out of bed, it makes me rethink my actions from a hard point of view, perfect them, sharpen them. It leaves useless details in the ditch.

In real life I try to be a well-educated person, actually I am a coward, to compensate I kick things upside down in my paintings.

I am getting of age… after the sweet memory of G.P. and the Rumour I listened to what I find the best version of ‘Rock and a Hard Place’ by the Stones (Click on the grey title to go to the video). Listen to bad boy Richards fiddle around the melody… and I realized why I don’t like today’s Richards anymore. From an authentic asshole junkie he has turned into a feel good so-called sweet granddad and a caricature.

The big question is how to go from teenage rebel to mature revolutionary.

I think in painting there are advantages. Many of the greatest works of my heroes were made at old age. So the best is yet to come?

Keith Richards and girlfriend in 2030?

I am moving to a new life in an 'old' country, will I survive and pull a fresh and sexy rabbit out of my ancient magic hat? I feel that maybe finally I am learning the tricks. So it might be the case.

I am a sixty five year old stupid gipsy not by choice. My early day hopes were money, fame and lots of models to have fun with. Should I give in to the idea that I never learn to the idea that every day I learn a bit more instead? Is it that I need a little more time? There is the dreamy child I just never seem to be able to kill in me…

Today with Gala I laughed my head off because of my own escapades. And she did too… life can be heaven… even while I am totally beyond reason because of my desperate move to my desired mommy ground.

I will survive!

I keep telling myself that even if I loose everything during the move, I will still possess my nonsenses. And if I die, let’s die in a field of poppies dreaming away (is that me, the boy in the field lurking on the flowers?).

Let’s top it off with Brecht. Let’s honor the vagabonds.

Barcelona, November 25, 2020.

I have reached an age where I am being bombarded with old time memories. It’s one of these nights that I look at movies that bring back the years and tears.

I put on ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen’, one of the best life concerts ever existed. Mad hippie times; I drank herbal tea, wore a leather band around my wrist, lit incense. I was an anarchist without knowing what it stood for. Bakunin sounded much better than Churchill. Teachers knew nothing! Everything was possible, makeable; we owned the future.

Maybe we owned nothing in the end, the future cannot be held in the hand, but we were sure to change all! Now I look at the world and think that if this is the result, maybe we should not have changed it that much…

Those were the days. Money was a filthy thing to strife for; commercialism was a curse. Now I know better. Also thanks to Gerard Reve, but that is another story.

Looking back I see a strange contradiction. New York was the place to be. Andy Warhol reigned there. And if anyone has commercialized the arts it is Warhol. He made endless series (and still does from over his grave) and did not even make it himself. He wanted to be a machine and we adored that…

What has happened? Is it true that nowadays fame counts more than dedication? Is that the result of our revolution?

Andy and Che.

Has the gap between a good earning famous artist and a not so famous one become bigger than ever? Not long ago a Banksy sold for almost 10 million pounds.

I have said that most of it is in the idea with much contemporay art, the execution is often poor, the poorer the better.

And I also said that if I want, I have a genius contemporary art idea about twice a day, if I’d only want to move in that direction.

Here is number 4307:

To make a false Da Vinci or Titian is not easy, but to make a false Banksy is the easiest thing in the world.

More than once I have asked around if anyone had a contact through whom I could sell some false Modigliani’s or Leger’s.

Why not Banksy?

A Banksy

That is even better in more than one way:

1. It’s the easiest thing to make, just a spray paint bottle and a template.

2. Nobody knows who he is so he can never deny that my Banksy is a real one.

3. If we get caught, we say it is a comment on the crazy art market system.

Here I ask it again:

ANYBODY HAS A CONTACT THROUGH WHOM I CAN PUT MY BANKSY'S ON THE MARKET AND MAKE A SHITLOAD OF MONEY??? I AM WILLING TO SPLIT IT 50-50.

mail to: info@bertvanzelm.com

P.S.: below a trailor of a not so old movie but one of my all time favourites. Tonight I'll watch it again...

Barcelona, 11-11-2020.

Not long ago I saw ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ with amongst others Prince on Youtube. It reminded me of the summer holidays of 1983.

With a group of friends we went to Puglia. We stayed in a stud farm. The horses they bred were for running behind a sulky.

We slept in an outbuilding on the floor above the farmers who took care of the grounds.

We were the ‘intellectuals’ from the north and treated with much respect.

horse 001, oil on canvas, 2017.

(click on the image to the painting on the site)

They showed us around; we admired the beautiful horses.

On the terrain in a far corner stood a filthy horse in a pool of mud attached to a pole. It was an ugly stallion; the head was too big; the body had no shape. Why was it there? I asked and immediately felt pity:

It happens quite often that when a mere is ready for pregnancy, she doesn’t feel like sex in the beginning. She'll kick back and that can cost the stallion a leg.

A stallion is worth a middle class car; the owners didn’t want to be left with a worthless horse.

The to be followed procedure was:

The ugly stallion was used to get the mare in the mood and when ready, they pulled the animal away so the price stallion could finish the job.

This poor thing never ever got a satisfying ejaculation. What a life…

Why did I think of this while listening to ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’?

In this version of 'While...' (see below) as in the one of ‘Concert for George’ the first solo is for a man with a cap on. The decisive solo (when things get serious) is not for him; it is for Eric Clapton or Prince…

In the announcement he falls under ‘others’ next to the named stars. I have no idea who he is. A typical case of ‘warm up’.

I hope he is happily married…

Barcelona, October 29, 2020.

P.S.: klik hier om de nederlandse tekst te lezen. 

I wrote 2 texts about my fascination with Rome, the eternal city.

To read them click on the image:

Text 1:

Text 2:

Enjoy! If we are locked up in our houses, we can still dream!

Ik heb 2 teksten over mijn fascinatie met Rome, de eeuwige stad, geschreven.

Om ze te lezen, klik op de afbeeldingen:

Tekst 1:

Tekst2:

Geniet! Als we opgesloten zitten kunnen we nog altijd dromen!

Musica, Maestra!

History and what we can/should learn from it…

I may be wrong… I don’t like conspiracy theories and I see many now… let this not be one…

But how the Dutch government is reacting makes me wonder… a world without the arts? Or at least quite a big indifference for the arts, is that what we see? True, the politicians have spilled words over the arts in the press. But it stays with words mostly. And very silly rules for the theatres, no inventive solutions (Yesterday I talked to a friend and she came up with a genius idea for concerts!).

In how grey and matter of fact a world do we want to live? I talk of ‘we’ and ‘politicians’; we live in a democracy…  the ones have to do with the others.

I turned my back to government help in 1987; I decided to find my way in the private sector. Sadly I was right about the government subsidies and it has gone down hill ever since.

When was it that some of us put on Facebook (so this cannot be before 2000) the remark of Churchill, when his fellow politicians told him to cut down the payments for the arts during Second World War: ‘Then what are we fighting for?’ This quote is being heard once again.

An actor friend of mine, when asked about his career, keeps on telling that in his younger (long time ago) days there existed government programs that helped people to go for their dreams (in the United Kingdom). Now every graduate (and not even in the arts) enters the post study world having to pay a terrible sum of money: he or she is found guilty of studying!

Should we blame the politicians? We chose them…

Time to put the hand in our own art bosom as well. A banana taped to a wall sold for $ 120.000,=? Is that a way to enrich the world? Is this what we offer? Many artists have turned their backs to the world in ignorant arrogance.

I talked about this banana thing in my blog of 12-12-2019 (click on the grey word blog to go to that blog).

And what I suspect is that the secretary of state for the arts in the Netherlands most probably has never seen a theatre or museum from the inside, let alone a gallery. How come? One is the sad state of much of the arts (who goes to a concert hall to see a pianist sit still in front of the piano for 4.33 minutes?). Two: in Dutch schools the arts are hardly being taught anymore and if they are, by pathetic failed painters or others (all under the flag of: ‘be creative, be ignorant, to know is bad, it stops you from expressing your own inner feelings!’). Three: politics have become more and more a career job aside from the real world: passion for what you decide over is not needed, what is important that you know how to say nothing.

I know, I am not being nice, but I see soooo much garbage around (not only in the arts)…

Every crisis can be an end but also a beginning, a cleaning up. Let’s hope this crisis and upcoming crisis have a healing effect…

Maybe we are entering a period like the roaring twenties in Berlin; let it not lead to a new Hitler rising!

To conclude: as a friend (great actor and singer) always says, the only person who can really help you is you and nobody else. Today I paint: I feel GOOD! And let there be more mirrors!

It could not be avoided. This blog is about the VIRUS and the possible consequences. I am having a very good working period with many paintings made. This can be due to my isolation and my pessimistic world-view on the future. Fearful and difficult times ahead can make me get to the essence quicker. I have to paint to understand the world and my position in it.

I think about Vienna around 1900. Seldom there has been a city where everybody was so much aware of the precarious situation. The world empire was about to implode and all was speeded up by the industrial revolution and the there out forthcoming chaos. The strange thing is that it was a period of incredible creativity in the sciences and the arts. Coincidence?

Are we about to have a huge recession/crisis thanks to the combination of the effects of the virus and the terrible rat race of our capitalist system? Will it be much worse than the crisis of 2008? If we look back in 75 years, will we see an equal outburst of creativity?

Had we become too wealthy and spoiled? Will we really learn from it or fall back to our old costumes? I fear the last…

Apart from counting the days of good working and the results, I am searching for a safe heaven to land when the shit hits the fan. And if the crisis doesn’t happen, it has served a purpose. Hard work is good for the nights rest and maybe I have found 2 new galleries.

Although… the galleries… The days of the rounds along the many openings belong to the past. Lately most works were sold on art fairs. And these fairs are not possible. In the end I may even be happy about that. Art fairs are like a very expensive double packaging of the goods. Apart from the cost of the gallery rent and personal, there is the cost of the stand, the transport, the extra personal and the stay in the strange town to be paid.

I am curious what the galleries will come up with in the new situation. The Internet can be a good new way of selling. The disadvantage is that the work is not seen in the real and without competing others. But the experienced buyer can see through that. And if a gallery has a trustful and good relation with the client, it helps much. Fundamental is that the gallery owner has knowledge of the product and art history. One cannot sail on intuition alone. I am curious!

To finish this blog:

Movies will be made, novels written and who knows, maybe even ‘CORANA, THE MUSICAL’ will be made! Remember the movie ‘BLACKOUT’ about the fall out in New York in 1977. 

Have a nice day… even if the video may make you reflect, especially my American friends.

Voor de Nederlandse lezers, dezelfde blog, maar dan in het Nederlands is hieronder te vinden op de pagina.

Het is onvermijdelijk. Deze blog gaat over het VIRUS en de mogelijke gevolgen.

Ik beleef een vruchtbare periode. Ik heb het gevoel veel goeds te hebben geproduceerd. Dat kan door een combinatie van op mezelf teruggevallen zijn en de niet bepaald optimistische kijk op de toekomst. Bange of moeilijke tijden kunnen maken dat ik er minder omheen draai, dat ik sneller tot de kern doordring. Ik moet schilderen om me goed te voelen en om alles te kunnen plaatsen.

Ik denk aan het Wenen van rond 1900. Zelden is er een stad geweest waar bijna iedereen zich er bewust was dat die op uiteenvallen stond, het imploderen van een wereldrijk in combinatie met de opkomst van de industriële revolutie en de daaruit voortvloeiende chaos. Het vreemde is dat het een periode van ongekende bloei was op bijna alle terreinen van de wetenschap en de kunsten. Toeval?

Staan we ook nu, zoals toen in Wenen voor een enorme recessie/crisis door de combinatie van de gevolgen van het virus en het kapitalistische systeem van blind vooruit hollen? Als we over 75 jaar terugkijken, zullen we dan een vergelijkbaar grote explosie van creativiteit zien als die van het Wenen van 1900? Waren we tot voor kort te welvarend en ingeslapen? Zullen we werkelijk iets leren of zullen we terugvallen in onze oude gewoontes? Ik vrees het laatste.

Naast dat ik de dagen van geïsoleerd goed werken tel, de schilderijen die ik nu maak, zoek ik ook een veilige haven om in te landen als de recessie werkelijk inhakt. Komt die niet, dan is het toch nog goed geweest. Niets is beter tegen slapeloze nachten dan hard werken. En ik heb er misschien 2 nieuwe galeries bij.

Hoewel… die galeries… De dagen van de rondes langs de diverse openingen zijn voorbij. Het zwaartepunt van verkopen is verschoven naar de kunstbeurzen. Voorlopig zijn kunstbeurzen geen optie. Daar ben ik eigenlijk wel blij mee. Een kunstbeurs is als een peperdure dubbele verpakking. Naast de huur en het personeel van de galerie die uit de verkoopprijs moet worden terugverdiend komen er ook nog eens de kosten van de stand van de beurs, het transport, het verblijf en het extra personeel bij.

Ik ben benieuwd naar de oplossingen van galeries. Hoe zullen die omgaan met de nieuwe situatie? Het internet kan een goede uitkomst zijn. Je ziet natuurlijk het werk niet in den lijve en ook niet naast alternatief ander, maar een ervaren koper kan er mogelijk doorheen zien. En als de galerie een goede band met een vaste klantenkring heeft is er veel mogelijk. Het is natuurlijk ook mooi als de galeriehouder weet heeft van de kunsten en de kunstgeschiedenis. Daar kan het nogal eens aan schorten. Je kunt niet alleen op je intuïtie varen. Ik ben benieuwd!

Tot slot. Er zullen films worden gemaakt, romans geschreven en wie weet komt er zelfs ‘CORONA, DE MUSICAL’. Denk alleen al aan de film ‘BLACKOUT’ over het wegvallen van de stroom in New York in 1977. Heb een fijne dag! Ook al geven de beelden hieronder te denken, speciaal voor mijn Amerikaanse vrienden...

Ik heb het interview nogmaals bekeken (naar aanleiding van ondermeer dit interview en de opmerking over de banaan, zie vorig blog), ik kon het toch ook fout hebben…

Hier mijn commentaar:

Volgens Wim Pijbes was de kunst (in 2019) sinds de laatste 10 jaar meer de musea uitgegaan. Ik heb het nog eens nagekeken; Keith Haring is gestorven in 1990 en Basquiat in 1988… Dat zijn kunstenaars die tijdens hun leven vooral werkten buiten de platgetreden paden. Veel kunst is en is trouwens altijd al te vinden geweest bij particulieren...

Musea zijn pas vrij recent (vanaf ongeveer na de Tweede Wereldoorlog, dus zeg 1950) werk van nog levende kunstenaars gaan tonen. (Een consequentie daarvan is, dat museum conservatoren vaak academies afgrazen of de straat opgaan (denk in Nederland aan Fred Haks) op zoek naar mogelijke geniën. Het is een race geworden die lijdt tot veronachtzaming van rijping/evolutie. (Voor mij een trieste ontwikkeling; ik hou vooral van de werken van de late Turner, Rembrandt en Goya, mensen die niet stil bleven staan)). De opmerking van Matthijs van Nieuwkerk: ‘kunst hoeft niet meer in een museum te hangen, een bevrijding zou je kunnen zeggen...' Wat een waanzinnige overschatting van de rol van de musea, alsof kunst pas kunst is als het in een museum hangt? Pijbes bleef stil...

Een ander voorbeeld van 'sterke nieuwe kunst' dat hij gaf was van een fotograaf die portretfoto’s van mensen maakt; ze sterk vergroot afdrukt en plakt op muren in arme wijken. Op zich een mooi geste, maar om dan die mensen tot helden te bombarderen… Ik zag niet anders dan uitvergrote koppen (de foto's waren op zich niet bepaald interessant) op huizen. Ik word al zo moe van alle selfies die ik op Facebook en Instagram zie… Dat zijn geen helden voor mij, ook al zijn ze door veel meer mensen te bewonderen.

De performance van Abramovitz werd vermeld.

Ze zat in een zaal (galerie of museum, het is me om het even). Je mocht tegenover haar gaan zitten en haar dan aankijken… Pijbes' motivatie was weer van een hopeloos nihilisme. Ze had geen middelen nodig, het aankijken was de kunst! Het is als naar het concertgebouw gaan en daar het orkest een uur aan staren… John Cage heeft er een piano stuk van gemaakt in 1952 (4.33 minuten stilte zittend achter een piano)…

Ik kijk liever mijn dochter af en toe in de ogen (is dat kunst omdat ik een kunstenaar ben?) en ga vervolgens schilderen. Wat een armoe…

Het schilderij dat hij noemde is alleen noemenswaardig omdat dat het portret van Obama is: een schilderij gemaakt door een zwarte man van de eerste zwarte president. Mij kon het niet bekoren door de manier waarop het geschilderd is. Het is kil, oninteressant en gevoelloos geschilderd. Dus weer; een beroemd mens en dan ook nog gemaakt door iemand van een minderheidsgroep. Hij stelt dat kunst uit andere culturen nu ook aandacht krijgen… wat te zeggen van Hokusai? Al sinds 1900 is het werk van deze kunstenaar bekend en wordt het bewonderd. Kehinde Wiley is trouwens een geboren en getogen Amerikaan (behoort hij tot een andere culuur omdat zijn huid een andere kleur heeft? Pijbes bedoelde misschien een sprongetje te maken, maar voor mij viel hij in de sloot).

Als laatste: het kunstwerk van Christo: 'mensen willen er aan deelnemen, worden een community'. Ik begrijp dit niet. Christo heeft het werk gemaakt en de mensen lopen er over… ze maken dan het kunstwerk, zijn ze er een deel van? Als je naar een schilderij kijkt, wordt je dan ook deel van het kunstwerk? 

En dit alles uit de mond van een zogenaamde kunstpaus...

Kijk voor het interview naar: https://www.npostart.nl/de-wereld-draait-door/10-12-2019/BV_101394338 

Het begint bij ongeveer 19.35 en loopt tot ongeveer 31.15. (De omroep laat mij niet op een eenvoudiger manier naar de uitzending verwijzen).