The sash unexpectedly became the symbol of his tenure. For four years, Jan Dirk van der Burg wore the red-white-blue ribbon with the imprint ‘Photographer Laureate’ during public performances. The title is real, but the sash, which looks very official, is a figment of the now 44-year-old photographer. He ordered it from an equestrian awards website.
‘When I was asked in 2018 whether I wanted to become the fifth Photographer Laureate, the title evoked a bit of pedantry and dignity in me’, says Van der Burg (also known for his portrait column). #enjoy the fun in this magazine). ‘I was just creating a performance with my photos for De Parade. I thought: how am I going to balance that? I was also looking for something that would make me recognizable on the festival site. The sash was the solution. Everyone feels that there is a certain seriousness in it, but then again there isn’t.’
His find became a real logo, especially through performances at The world goes on and other TV programs. Soon he will take off his sash; his term, which was extended by two years due to the corona pandemic, will end in October.
Typical Netherlands
The farewell coincides with an exhibition of his work in the Nederlands Fotomuseum in Rotterdam. Not without pride: ‘My first solo exhibition in a museum space.’ A voluminous photo book has also been published. Both are called Typical Netherlands and are a sequel to an image report of the same name that he publishes monthly for two and a half years NRC made.
In his search for the Dutch national character, he photographed the Netherlands ‘completely flat’, he writes in the introduction to his book (which contains almost a thousand photos). The first shots date from 2009 – when he recorded municipal dog poo cleaners – but the majority were shot during his term as Photographer Laureate.
His hunting ground was mainly the dormitory in the medium-sized municipality. ‘These are places where it is normally not to be done. The Dutch front garden culture is an endless source of inspiration. You can see the tension there between the will to distinguish oneself and the desire to belong to something.’
There are hardly any people in the photos. Because he already shoots portraits for his column in the Volkskrant Magazine, Van der Burg mainly focused on material characteristics in this project. He has recorded them in series. ‘The repetition gives a comic effect, but also makes it serious.’ He collected green PTT mailboxes in artfully arranged recesses in hedges, camouflaged wheelie bins, house names derived from the names of the residents (‘ANJAKEJAPEJO’) and many other desirable ‘typologies’ that can be seen from the public space.
Especially the white, wooden letters behind the windshield that together make up the word ‘home‘ forms are popular, he noted. ‘I photographed about five hundred, of which a hundred are in the book.’ Also advancing: Buddha statues in the front yard. They often appear to have been chosen by women. ‘Then I am photographing a buddha mace and then I ring the bell to find out more about it. When the man opens the door, he often reacts surprised: ‘Do we have a Buddha in the front yard? I’ll have to ask my wife about that.’ An exuberant laugh follows, not for the last time during the interview.
Dutch stupidity
Are the home-letters and buddha statues symbols of bourgeoisie, Dutch frumpiness? These are terms he will never use, he says. ‘When I look at myself, I have to conclude that with my Swap bike, skinny jeans and beard I am completely blend in my neighborhood in Amsterdam. It is communicating that you kind of belong together.’
There are often noble motives at play, he discovered in the conversations. ‘Fiona Leliveld from Dordrecht painted her three wheelie bins black because she didn’t think the original colors fit in her garden, in which she applied many shades of gray and black. She has in big letters ‘GREY!’, ‘GREEN!’ and ‘BLUE!’ put on the wheelie bins for the garbage collectors. But they don’t read that; they only pay attention to the color of the waste containers. Now she has to open the valves on every day of the offer, so that the garbage collectors can see which bin it is by the contents. My heart opens when she says that.’
He shows a photo of a wooden hutch in a small front yard that says ‘clicky’ in jigsaw letters. ‘Those wheelie bins are imposed by the government, but where do you put them? That you then build a click garage in your own front yard, great. This one was made by Rob Moederzoon in Purmerend, who worked in the printing industry and suffered a burnout. He relaxes by working with wood. You can also just put those waste containers in your front yard and it will look ugly. I think it’s a lot to say about people trying to find a solution for that.’
Which in this case turned out to be temporary. ‘After he had made the loft, the municipality came up with a fourth wheelie bin, for plastic waste. It won’t fit in the garage. I have gained a lot of insights on a micro level.’
Over time, he had at least twenty typologies in his head. ‘Then every small industrial estate or residential area is a potential hunting ground.’ At the back of his book, Van der Burg thanks his girlfriend, among other things, for her patience during the detour. ‘When she asked: shall we go to my parents in Helmond, I replied: then we can also drive past Deurne.’
scavenger hunts
Not infrequently he was treated with suspicion during his raids. ‘The letters home in front of the window are not seen as a photo subject. It’s like I’m photographing someone’s house. In the northeast of the Netherlands they quickly say: ‘What is the point of all this?’ In Brabant you are addressed in a happier way. If you explain it, most will understand. It works best if you are comfortable walking around with an open facial expression.’
Sometimes the police were called. Most surprising was the interruption of the theatrical performance by three agents This is the Netherlands, in which Van der Burg performed together with writer Marcel van Roosmalen and radio presenter Roelof de Vries. The audience thought the interruption was part of the act. The officers inquired whether he had taken photos earlier in the day in a residential area in Nieuwegein. That was indeed the case: in every city in which they gave a performance, he made recordings to discuss it with the public. The officers wanted to know where the images were. I just showed it to the room, he said. The trio then retreated. In retrospect, he thinks he knows what was going on. “I probably photographed a house from which a police team was secretly observing someone.”
According to him, it is also typically Dutch that many people tipped him off about what else he should immortalize. “It’s very nice, but it also makes you feel like you can never do it right.” He has included some of that heartfelt advice at the back of the book. In the exhibition in the Nederlands Fotomuseum, visitors can also show their own series on a projection screen via an Instagram account. ‘We’re just finishing that Sagrada Familia together.’
Meanwhile, Van der Burg was working on another project. Since the end of last year, a five-part series of the ‘Fotoclub des Vaderlands’ has been published on YouTube, in which he investigates photographic themes. It is a light-hearted series, which is nevertheless instructive. ‘When my term as Photographer Laureate was extended, I also wanted to let other photographers have their say. The tone of the series is a joke with a signal. It’s really about something.’ His girlfriend Eefje Suijkerbuijk, who has already made many short films, directed the series.
National Geographic
He reveals that the idea for this had been with the broadcaster BNNVara for a long time, but was eventually rejected by channel managers. Thanks to the support of three funds, the series could still be made – on the Internet. ‘I thought: I will show that we can make something for TV.’ Then National Geographic knocked on his door for something similar.
Lecturer, comedian (in August he will present a performance at Lowlands about how to make better dick pics from a photographic point of view), ambassador; Van der Burg has undergone significant development as Photographer Laureate. ‘Now I am more often asked to be a chat major than a photographer. I never thought I’d have so much fun in that role. Because of the title, which was conceived purely to promote photography, a lot comes to you after all.’
When he stops as Photographer Laureate at the end of October, he will first take a rest. “These were tropical years.” After that, he wants to make an evening-long theater performance about photography.
He wonders who will succeed him. Two years ago, when it had not yet been determined that he would stay on longer, there was already a call round about possible candidates. He laughs again when he tells what a common reaction was: ‘Yes, I’m not going to walk with that sash!’
Typical Netherlands, Nederlands Fotomuseum, until 30 October 2022. A photo book of the same name has been published by nai010 publishers on the occasion of the exhibition. Price: €29.95.