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16-17 October 2019 The time before I became a plant stealer

I joined the bag project going to Hornhuizon. It's about community, working with natural materials and going to the North of Groningen, that's what I knew.

We cut some willow, shared some text, did some weaving, having nice breakfast, lunch and dinner, going to the farm in the first day while the second day we saw some Groningen clay artworks and right before I joined the group to dig the clay, I had no idea I am going to a Unesco Heritage and I became a plant stealer.

Aanleg plantsoen, eind 19e – begin 20e eeuw
In de loop van de 19e eeuw breidde de stadsbevolking zich uit, vooral onder de minder draagkrachtigen. De wallen omsloten een stad die overvol raakte. Overal in Nederland besloten gemeentebesturen kort na de totstandkoming van de Vestingwet tot het slechten van de stadswallen en de daarin aanwezige stadspoorten, die steeds meer als verkeersobstakels voor het toenemende verkeer werden ervaren. De vrijkomende gronden en grachten bestemde men voor stadsuitbreiding: huizenbouw, gevangenis, ziekenhuis, universiteitsgebouwen en zelfs begraafplaatsen. In een aantal steden waaronder Haarlem, Zaltbommel, Utrecht, Maastricht en Groningen kreeg een deel van de voormalige vestingwerken de bestemming plantsoen.

Park layout, late 19th - early 20th century
In the course of the 19th century, the city population expanded, especially among the less fortunate. The ramparts enclosed a city that became overcrowded. Everywhere in the Netherlands, shortly after the establishment of the Vesting Act, municipal authorities decided to demolish the city walls and the city gates therein, which were increasingly perceived as traffic obstacles to increasing traffic. The released grounds and canals were designated for urban expansion: housing construction, prison, hospital, university buildings and even cemeteries. In a number of cities including Haarlem, Zaltbommel, Utrecht, Maastricht and Groningen, part of the former fortifications was designated as park.

Het plantsoen is in gedeelten ontworpen door meerdere ontwerpers. Eerst kwam het middengedeelte tussen de Nieuwe Boteringestraat en de Grote Kruisstraat door B. Brouwer en J.G. van Beusekom (1879) Daarna kwam het beplantingsplan uit 1881 van H. Copijn uit Utrecht voor het gedeelte tussen de Grote Kruisstraat en het Reitdiep. Het gedeelte tussen Moesstraat en Ebbingestraat werd in 1881 ontworpen door P.H. van Harreveld
De fonteinvijver, ontworpen door directeur Gemeentewerken J.A. Mulock Houwer (hij ontwierp ook de muziekkoepel) kwam in 1912 en de speelweiden zijn rond 1920 aangelegd, ten tijde van de bouw van de Oranjewijk.
Kaartje uit brochure van Copijn
Zichtbare overblijfselen van de vestingwerken zijn de wal langs de Noorderbinnensingel tussen de Grote Leliestraat en de Grote Kruisstraat, de vorme...

The park has been designed in parts by several designers. First came the middle section between the Nieuwe Boteringestraat and the Grote Kruisstraat by B. Brouwer and J.G. van Beusekom (1879) Then came the planting plan from 1881 by H. Copijn from Utrecht for the section between the Grote Kruisstraat and the Reitdiep. The section between Moesstraat and Ebbingestraat was designed in 1881 by P.H. van Harreveld
The fountain pond, designed by director Gemeentewerken J.A. Mulock Houwer (he also designed the music dome) arrived in 1912 and the playing fields were laid out around 1920, at the time of the construction of the Oranjewijk.
Ticket from Copijn brochure
Visible remains of the fortifications are the shore along the Noorderbinnensingel between the Grote Leliestraat and the Grote Kruisstraat, the ...

Het gedeelte tussen Moesstraat en Ebbingestraat werd in 1881 ontworpen door P.H. van Harreveld

The section between Moesstraat and Ebbingestraat was designed in 1881 by P.H. van Harreveld

Links staat de gewone vleugelnoot (44) die in de bloeitijd katjes van zo’n dertig centimeter laat hangen en een vertegenwoordiger van de Kaukasus is.

On the left is the common wing note (44) that leaves kittens of about 30 centimeters in bloom and is a representative of the Caucasus.

44 Gewone vleugelnoot – Pterocarya fraxinifolia

1881 P.H. van Harreveld

Dans les Voges

In the mountains in France, there is a tree that has my age. My parents planted it the day of my birth. It is taller than me now. In the summer, it has big green leaves and flowers in the shape of a tulip. In the winter, the leaves turn from yellow to orange.
In the mountains in France, there is a tree that has my sister's age. My parents didn’t plant it. The tree grew by himself. It is taller than my sister now and definatly taller than me or my tree. In the summer, it has thin wavy leaves. In the winter, a strong core that can overcome any earthquake.

The Balcony

It’s been now 8 months since I moved into my new room. I am lucky to have a door that opens on the balcony. There were all sorts of objects left behind. Ash trades, plant pots even a green bathroom sink. One night there was a storm. The rain and the wind were so strong that dropped a pot full of earth that clogged the gutter. A few rainy days followed and the balcony became a little pool. Worried that the water would come into my room, I graded a handful of earth and dirt and put it in a pot. The water finally could go through the gutter. And I left the pot on the balcony. I noticed then a few leaves growing. Two different kinds of plants were starting to grow. As the nights became colder, I brought the plants in my room. Now, they are 7cm long, growing in all directions.

The king with donkey ears

As tales are told from mouth to ear, I will tell this story as I remember it.
The King was fond of his hairdresser. He knew that he could trust him and would tell him all his worries and doubts. Helas, one day the beloved hairdresser died. The King had to find a new one. Every barber in the kingdom was invited one after the other to cut the hair of the King. But once the last lock of hair snipped, the King executed them. The last barber of the kingdom was also demanded to cut the hair of the King. The poor fella was afraid to suffer the same fate as his colleagues. But he was the last one so the King had to let him live. « You shall not say a word once your task is complete, otherwise you will join the others. » said the King. Trembling, the barber cuts the hair of the King. As the days passed by, nobody heard a word coming from him. He couldn’t share what he had seen. The secret became so heavy to bear that the hairdresser found a tree with a hole in the trunk. He whispered to the tree « The King has donkey ears ». Relived, the barber continued to cut the hair of the King and became the new Royal Hairdresser. But the tree was cut down and used to build a beautiful violin. The first notes that came out of the instrument were filled with the King’s big secret. « The King has donkey ears, the King has donkey ears ». Very soon the rumour got spread and everyone new that King had donkey ears.

Pictures taken by Bart Kootstra

A story to tell:

I come across this tree several times a day, it is tall, massive and leaning towards the street where I bike to the studio on a daily basis. I stop and look at it often, reflecting on what I feel and what the tree makes me think. It began with a feeling of insignificance. Who was I human running around to the next thing to do. My actions, culture, preoccupations seemed frivolous in comparison to the stable force that I envisioned this tree to be. I thought the tree would be at least a hundred years due to its size of approximately 10 meters high and broad. Pterocarya fraxinifolia is tree Number 44 on the Noorderplantsoen. The part of the park between Moesstraat and Ebbingestraat has been designed in 1881 by P.H. van Harreveld but this tree according to David Dolstra the previous forest manager of the city of Groningen is around 40 years old. My age. The gap was less significant then I thought. What we have in common tree number 44 and me is the time we both spend on this planet. Getting to know the history of the tree my feeling of insignificance transformed to a feeling of pity. You see this type of tree grows as a forest normally, from its roots other trees can grow, which it isn’t allowed to do now. N44 wants to lay its long and heavy branches to the ground, so it doesn’t need to grow too many roots that keep it stable. Its roots though can’t grow further because the asphalt is cutting its way. Its branches are massive and are considered dangerous for the passers by and cut regularly to ensure safety. How long N44 will endure its captivity is hard to tell. Trees don’t die, they stop growing and rot from inside.

I came here in late summer. It is the first time to live alone without my family. As my grandma used to have lots of plants, I start to grow two avocados to make me remind my childhood and celebrate my new challenge. So, I bought two avocados and collected seeds. Cut the middle of them. And, wait and wait. and still waiting.

I have drawn them in my diary by recording their and my time. I tell my thought for them that is difficult to share with others. My doubt, My feeling, My anger, My question.

I saw it growing on the edge of the tree pot I have on my desk, it looked so familiar, so small and fragile looking but in reality it’s tough because it’s wild!
After a while I recognised it. It was the same plant that used to grow in my hometown back in Syria “that’s why it made me feel so warm, it reminded me of my childhood, I used to pick it of the hill on my way back from school and eat them, adults have told me and my friends that we shouldn’t eat this plant because it’s cows food, but we didn’t care because we liked the taste.”
Trying to make sure that it is the same plant, Searched the web and read about its history. How it was originated in the Middle East and was used to feed farm animals because of its richness benefits for the animals, also that humans can drink a soak from its water to help gaining weight, I also read how later it was ported to Europe, Africa, Asia and finally America “so far from home.”
And how it has eight different descendants, two of them are already extinct, four are endangered and only two are thriving.
In a way we both made the same journey. And I wonder do we have the same memory? Will I be in time a weird descendant of myself? Does it hold the same history as me?

My apple seed didn't sprout.

But my hair keeps on growing

How do we move in the grains of time from a place to another, carrying with us our memories, histories and self.

I read a mother’s letter to them that she wrote before I came here. Like my mom’s letter, As my mom sees me, I send my voice to avocados, to myself.

Dear, my daughter Haeun, a grace from God.

I am fond of the word ‘grill’ so much. Because it has patience, obstinacy, stubbornness, and guts. Although I made this nickname to you, it is totally perfect. I believe that you get along well in a new place. Furthermore, be considerate to friends and take care of your health. If you have difficulties or thankfulness, you can thank and pray to God. I’m sure He always protects you. I always pray for and support you.

From, reliable supporter mom, Minsook.

17 October 2019 The plant

They were weird. The first time I came across with these plants, they were under my boots. There are plenty of plants, kind of like cactus but growing in the clay and river water.

"I must need to take some before I left", I thought. I was supposed to work with clay digging but I was attracted by the plants, maybe:

there are a lot of them;
cactus are everywhere;
it's good for home decoration;
It makes my home pretty;
I want to grow it

Right after we finished digging most of the clay we need, I went back helping the digging but also waiting for a moment to take the plant.

I randomly picked some but they were very deeply rooted and I broke one of them.

As they were yelling and at the time I had to leave. I took two I haven't saw before in my lifetime.

17 October 2019 The room

I put them in my pocket. We got on the small van and they were still in my pocket.

Getting back to the hostel, I went to my room and security took out the plants. Looking at time, I hope they grow. When they become bigger, maybe it is unique. In order to make it grow, I also got a small square of clay with me.

I put them into a plastic bag with some tissue and water. "It's fine"

Every time I grow plants I use water/tissue/soil.

17 October 2019 I took it in my hands. Omg it is so weird like a weird cloud-shape hands growing along the "branches"

17 October 2019 My room

After going home, I took out the plants from the plastic bag and put them with the soil I stole from the garden down stairs of my student house.

I put also the clay with it, just the cube, not mixing with the soil. And water it.

Somedays
I thought they were growing but they shrink.
One was drying and one was fine.
I hope the "fine"one survive but it could't.
They died.

The morning we took photos of hair.

My sister at the piano with semple of plant taken in the streets where she lives.
I brought the semple to my place. It is now on the balcony.

Please, feel free to listen to my sister playing

There’s this one tree in my parents’ garden. It’s a pear tree and it’s been there for decades. Even when my parents moved into the farm house in 1996, when I was only nine months old, the tree was already there. In some pictures from my childhood you can actually see the tree, but always in the background. There’s even a picture of me as a baby, probably only a month after moving into the farm, where I’m in the playpen and some of the tree’s branches are on the ground next to it. My dad was pruning the pear tree, as he still does each year. The tree is still thriving today. There are so many pears, we simply cannot keep up with the harvest and some years we sell the excess on the side of the road. The animals love the tree as much as I do. Our dog, for instance, gets incredibly excited to go outside and when she does, she’ll eat as many pears as she can find, making her sick to her stomach. The cats play tag and can climb straight up to the top in the blink of an eye, following each other from one branch to another, knocking down pears as they go along. The pears that aren’t eaten by us go to the chickens and the donkey, who enjoy them as much if not more. Recently, however, my dad’s been wanting to cut down the pear tree, because it’s leaning over to the left and might be dangerous. Part of the trunk is dead and the pears might become too heavy for it to hold. Even though I understand and I don’t want anyone to get hurt, I try to convince him: one more year. I spoke my first words underneath this tree’s branches, learned to ride my bike by leaning against it, sat in it’s shadow during Sunday barbecues, and enjoyed its fruit every autumn. Yeah, it’s only a tree, but it’s also my childhood.

Me as a child with the tree in the background

Baby me with the tree's branches next to me

Dad pruning the tree

How we move in the grains of time from a place to another, carrying our memories, histories and selves with us.

We spread our stories as roots and branches of a tree. Our hairs are growing, their branches our growing.
We share the same time, looking at them/us grow in synchronicity.

These are individual stories gathered in a living structure, our relations to the growing of plants.