Article in publication of Belgian art collective SUB IV
September 2017


For a moment, I was confused. Capital. In the sense of economic capital or capital city? An entanglement of finances and places that bewilders or enlightens? For the thrill of revelation, I searched on:
Capital letter: an upper-case letter in a writing system.
Capital/ architecture: the crowning member of a column.
Capital/ fortification: a proportion of a bastion.
Capital punishment: death sentence.
Language, architecture, death.

I read somewhere ‘When we’re no one we’re nowhere’. Residing in non-places must have taking its toll, no doubt.  I used to work in a city that was built as suburb, it’s raison d’être being: ‘residing’. Not meant for actual living but foremost for ‘populating’ or simply ‘staying’. A devotion that brims on death [to apologize: the meaning of an utterance does not wholly reside in the semantic meaning].

Inhabiting my place in the service-sector I eight-hourly resided in a room that complemented the (non-) architectural type of the building: airco, computer, coffee machine. I resided in information that evaporated from the computer screen straight to my eyes, to my brain and back to my fingers, the keyboard, the screen. I was looping requests into the machine through the intervention of my serving body to the final granting of information, as a gift all most. Requesting a location from the machine, I read: ‘In W. House multiple architects and creative industries reside. By numerous restructurings the original character of the building was lost. Therefore, a major renovation took place in the 1990’s. The W. House was built as a grain warehouse for the shipment of flower. From this building, the bakeries of the city were supplied’.

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