Gentle stranger, I hope this email finds you well is a collection of letters, written by artists around the world. Each artist explores care in some aspect of their work, and each letter is written in response to the previous one. These letters, which may take the form of (creative) writing, sound or visual essays, will be published weekly, from June 1st onwards. With these letters, we invite you to think with us about new ways of thinking about and through care, in these changing times.

This letter by Jonathan Hielkema, responds to Katharina Joy Book's, which you can read here.

Dear Olli,

Is it true that you see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil? Or am I projecting this onto you?

It’s June 2020 and we haven’t seen each other since the Covid-19 pandemic. How are you doing? I must say that I miss you, it has been a while. Oh boy, I have so many questions for you. Will you recognize me after summer? Do you even know who I am? And what about your family?

Am I taking good care of you? And did I ever tell you that you take care of me, too?

You know, these people from Berlin asked me to participate in a chain of letters, written by artists around the world. The subject of these letters is care. I immediately had to think about you and my brother Camiel.

At the same time, I am worrying about all the injustices around the world. Did you hear about the Black Lives Matter movement? Do you know about what is going on in Yemen? And what do you think about Israel annexing parts of the West Bank? Oh, and by the way, how do you feel about Europe not caring about all these refugee camps on the Greek islands? It keeps me awake at night, boy, what about you? What about you?

Is it true that you see no evil? 

The other day I spoke to Camiel about his disability in relation to this series of letters I’m partaking in. My initial plan was to correspond with Camiel through email, and discuss his perception of care and being taken care of by me, our brothers, and parents. This would have taken more time than we had, however. So we decided that writing to you was a better option. He said:

“Things go much faster with Olivier. After all, he doesn't reply anyway, right?”

I said I didn’t know.

Is it true that you don’t, or can’t reply? Are you actually aware that I’m trying to communicate with you? Or is this perhaps a letter to me?

This is a photograph of my family on a mousepad made around 2002. I erased the caption of the newspaper after my parents divorced, it said something like ‘happy family’. I still use the mousepad every day.

From left to right: Camiel, Jonathan, Samuel, Dad, Mom, David, and Jochem

I have been wondering if you are aware of everything happening around the world. You see, I’m worried about the future, about your future, my brother’s future, the future of the world… From the age of sixteen or so, I have become increasingly concerned about my brother's future. And, tied as we are, also about my own.

Two years ago I went to court with two of my brothers and our parents to sign a contract. This contract made us Camiel's primary carers if our parents were to die unexpectedly. David, the eldest of seven, and Samuel, the second to last in line, will become his legal administrators. Me, the middle brother, will become the legal guardian when the time comes.

This is a video of my brothers and I on a Dutch TV show. My brother Camiel asked the host, Paul de Leeuw, to be on the show. He wanted to sing a song together with his idol. The video reminds me of how assertive Camiel is, and how our parents support us in being ourselves in this way.

In the Netherlands, there are relatively good social structures to support people like you and my brother. But looking at all the injustices around the world, I see that these structures are at stake. Nothing's certain. And this feels somewhat threatening. I mean, have you gone to court to agree on something like this with your brother and parents? And what if there's no more social safety net by the time you do? Who's gonna take care of you? Are you aware that you're totally dependent on this safety net? 

I've talked to your mother about it. It's a subject we'll never be able to ignore. Except for, when I walk or play with you. Isn’t that strange? I worry about the future all the time, but when I'm with you, I manage to escape those thoughts. It’s almost like playing football, when I play it, I escape my thoughts. It is as if the ball requires all my attention and therefore I forget about my worries. 

It’s not just me taking care of you, it cuts both ways, no doubt about it. 

After I told the editor about escaping thoughts through football and being with you, she advised me to read The Parasite by Michel Serres. Serres made some special remarks about ‘the ball’: 

A ball is not an ordinary object...The ball isn’t there for the body; the exact contrary is true: the body is the object of the ball; the subject moves around this sun. Skill with the ball is recognized in the player who follows the ball and serves it instead making it follow him and using it. It is the subject of the body, subject of bodies, and like a subject of subject. Playing is nothing else but making oneself the attribute of the ball as a substance. The laws are written for it, defined relative to it, and we bend to these laws. 

I’m not trying to say you are a football, but I do see connections. 

I remember playing football with my brothers when I was younger. Camiel often wanted to participate, but he couldn’t walk - and of course, still can’t. So if he did participate he would play the goalkeeper. You can imagine, lots of balls hit his face. But he didn't give a damn, he wanted to play. No limit! A force inspired by our parents, who actively took the umbrella organisation of elementary schools to court, so that Camiel could get into 'normal' education. They succeeded. 

This is one of the many things my parents, and especially my mother, fought for. For the most part, this has ensured that Camiel is now an active citizen who participates fairly normally in society. 

This is a video I made with Camiel to help him find a job (which he did).

Don’t you think I need to do more? For now, I've worked on one project about disability with my friend Diego Grandy. This project focuses on the relationship with his disabled sister Mimi, and Diego's desire to communicate with her. Last year I also made a video to help Camiel get a job. In addition, together with your parents, I agreed to film and follow you until you are eighteen, and possibly after that. Are you okay with that? I feel like I want to tell your story, I think it's important to share it. But, is it mine to share? Did you consent? Your parents did. 

I mean, you are not the only person going from home to school by taxi, never really participating in ‘normal life’. In the Netherlands alone, there are about 67,000 children who, due to the nature of their disability, rely on social services and receive special education. Yet I have never seen or read anything about these young people - it is as if they are hidden from the rest of society. How do you feel about that?

Either way, working with you has reminded me of how much I already know about caring for and about young people with disabilities. I'm thinking about your family's future based on my family’s history. Not to mention, I have almost twenty years more experience than your parents. 

You know, this might actually be the reason I’m so worried about the future and all the injustices around the world. I have witnessed that injustice needs to be fought, and when you conquer the injustice, beautiful things can arise. Seeing these social safety nets at stake, and the dependency on them that you have, I realise just how vulnerable you are. At the same time, these social structures also keep people out. Everyone, regardless of ability, paperwork or background, deserves the right to be taken care of. This is not yet a reality.  

Is it true that you hear no evil?

I made this video about Diego and his sister for the project we did together, see footnote 2.

By the way, this letter is a response to a previous letter, by the artist Katharina Joy Book. Among other things, she wrote about consent. She said the following: 

Notes on care, for me, are also notes on consent. Questions of consent are bound up in narratives of desire, but also narratives of becoming and imaginative healing. 

Consent is connected to repercussions, to consequences. Practicing active consent is connected to cultivating agency and respect. Knowing how to practice consent is a key part of understanding accessibility, and being able to ensure it in physical and online spaces, as much between intimate partners as in larger communities. 

Consent is a part of how we can practice care with generosity.

After reading this part, I had to think a lot about whether it is appropriate to write a letter to you that you can’t respond to anyway. I mean, what's the point of that?  It feels as though I’m writing to myself, in order to grasp where I stand or justify where I will stand in the future. What does that say about our relationship of care? How do I measure your sense of approval or consent? Oh boy, I have so many questions for you.

Is it true that you speak no evil?

Do you know about the fourth monkey, actually? This monkey does no evil. Do we? 

I'm about to share a video with the spectator of this letter. These are snippets of time we have shared together; at home, on the bike, at the beach. I hope you consent to me showing this video. What do you think of the video? Will you ever be able to reply?

I hope so,

Jonathan

This is a video about Olivier and me when we are together.

While looking up the fourth monkey, these photographs came up (on the Dutch and English Wikipedia pages).

Footnotes



[1] Serres, Michel. ‘Midnight Suppers.’ In The Parasite, Translated by Lawrence R. Schehr. Baltimore and London: John Hopkins University Press, 1982. 225-6.
[2]  https://www.fontanelmagazine.com/chats/diego-grandry
[3]  https://www.allesoversport.nl/artikel/feiten-en-cijfers-over-het-aantal-mensen-met-een-beperking/
[4] https://www.kunstlerkunstlerin.com/katharina-joy-book

Jonathan Hielkema (b. 1994, Twisk and Hoorn, The Netherlands), has a provocative approach, containing personal involvement and unbeknownst collaborations, resulting in explosive and often uncomfortable works that challenge people’s biases about society and common sense. His previous works addresses ‘touchy’ subjects such as privileges, the status quo, exploitation and worryism.

“I am privileged, I am the status quo, I am being exploited and I am worried.”

His website can be found here and Instagram here

Click here for Katharina Joy Book’s letter, which came before, and here for Merve Ünsal’s letter (which will be published on July 6th).

Many thanks to Manon Beury, Tudor Etchells, Emily Medd, James Medd and Melanie Healy, Rapolas Rucinskas and all those who preferred to remain anonymous, whose contributions helped make this project possible.