Feeling ugly? Feeling unworthy? Feeling down because of your physical appearance? Someone said something not so nice? Crying over your shrimp?

Yeah, fuck all that.

Humans are born with the urge to express their opinions and propositions. Being judgemental is a variable that made humans survive back in the good ol’ neolithic days. ‘’hey, bro, how about this agricultural development? I think it’s better than moving around hunting jack shit and dying. Or do you think otherwise?’’ Said one 11000 BC human to the other.

But now, this urge to share opinions with literally anyone who unfortunately has ears to listen and eyes to read is unbelievable. (not so) Suprisingly, unwanted opinions are the most popular. Why share something uninteresting and negative just to blare on and on about one minor thing in your life. Yeah, lets share just that then! Man, if you have nothing good to say just shut the fuck up. Nobody wants to hear what you think of your nephew’s piercing, Steven, go suck a dick.

Obviously, the internet (such a lovely place, such a lovely face) highly escalates the sharing of bullshit. You know, people have always been stupid and have always done stupid things. The internet just helps my generation share their dumb opinions. Bullying on easy mode, attention whoring, and hypocritical texts like this one are the result.

Who cares how you look and what people thinks of you? The only opinion that should matter to someone is their own. You’re the one who owns your body and decides how it looks. You are who you are, and you sure don’t need anybody else telling you how to do/look/feel. And if you don’t like who you are, fucking change. Fuck you. 

Why care how someone you know or don’t even know resembles themselves? I sure don’t. Black, white, or yellow? Bitch be blue and I’m still minding my own business. Gay, straight, or both? Might as well fuck a microwave and I’m still smiling. Female, male, or whatever you feel like today? Yeah. Don’t give a fuck. As long as you enjoy yourself, right? Shaming people with unwanted opinions because of who they are and how they want to present themselves to the world is fucking gross. Grow up, it’s 2018, ya cunt. 

So. See this as pure irritation or as a motivational speech.

Along the lines of this I give you; the UGLY MIRROR. You decide who you are and who you want to be. Take a good look at the UGLY MIRROR and you might catch glimpse of someone beautiful (or not). You feeling ugly? Fine. Feeling cute? Fine. Feeling disgusting? Fine. Feeling beautiful? Fine. 

UGLY MIRROR don’t give a damn. Neither should you.

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Ah, yes. Originality; an important feature of society. You’re a god if you wear a real Versace/Gucci/Prada shirt, but a clown if your wear a phony. A projection of human nature in their justification of another being. You’re cunty if you wear aididas, right?

That’s what gets me to my next bit. Fake manufacturers. And in particular; designer rip-offs by big brands. Small designers get ripped of constantly by major companies due to social media and the ‘’fast-fashion’’ machine. Which basically scans the gram for designs and copies new ideas to leave the original designer masturbating in the rain (not me though; just 102 followers on the gram, 98 on facebook, 2 on youtube, gotieem, ain’t nobody copying from the unknown).

But I do like to look out for the little guy, with the little guy meaning a brand/designer 50 times my size, goddamn. I realised this is a recurring problem for them and felt the need to protect them and eventually myself against those feisty copycats. 

That’s when I thought of something. A way too elaborate code generating algorithm to know if somebody has a real VAN EECKHOUTTE or a fake one (not that anyone copies any of my work because, well, nobody gives a shit.) 

Introducing the ECHTHEIDSCERTIFICAAT (certificate of authenticity). Signed by me personally. Name and everything, make that shit personal. Released to the public, for anyone to copy and use (the irony). Branded with my warm-hearted logo in fine block pattern, with rich Gucci like colours associating with wealth, health and understatements.

The ECHTHEIDSCERTIFICAAT’s most important feature is the SERIENUMMER (serial number)(generated code), which can be found on every product by me. Any designer wanting to copy and use the ECHTHEIDSCERTIFICAAT is free to develop and utilise their own generated code proving their own product’s origin.

So remember this. You’re a weak bitch if you own a fake VAN EECKHOUTTE.


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What is art? Baby. Don’t hurt me.

A better question is; what defines art? What makes something art? And, when and why is something considered art?

A discussion which fascinates me.

The subject alone is to be considered controversial. Everything about it was and still is being debated. Some feisty smart asses even discuss the philosophical usefulness of the question alone.

Can art even be defined?

The term ‘art’ is very flexible. Historical accuracy, location, cultural preference, and personal preference all play important roles.

Art can be aggressive, loving, stupid, rock-hard, naïve, endearing, effortful, stiff, rigid, tiring, my dick on a stick put under a glass dome, hairy, alluring, subjective, problematic, irritating, etc. Everything has the potential to become art.

What is art? Can it be defined? An ambitious, arguable question indeed.

After having done research on the topic, I still cannot draw a single conclusion. But one thing amongst all variables stood out to me though.

Art. That shit pricy.

Can you turn trash into art and sell it for a fortune after doing something bold to it which turns crap into ‘art’? Well, yes.

Introducing AXE INCLUDED.

Sometimes, a man’s got to do, what a man’s got to do (for culture, ey). For me, this was slamming a 17,5 inch, carbon steel axe into one of my tables. A table designed with great passion and care, beloved by its creator.

‘’Then why slam an axe into it?’’

Ah, good question.

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A log you ask? Well, let me elaborate. This is not your typical ‘slam it into two and burn it at the stake’-type log. This is the official VAN EECKHOUTTE log.

I slammed my logo onto this. I labelled a log and am now selling it for exactly 300 times its original worth.

Branding, baby.

Please note the following; Get the log. Get the log. Get the log. Get the log. Get the log. Catalogue.

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What’s the deal with interior? Boring presentation, conservative brand appeal, and no meaning. Personally, I love interior. The way you decorate your living place says a lot about the person you are. But still. Why does it have to be so meaningless, especially for a younger, more fruitful generation?

Don’t get me wrong now. There are exceptions of intriguing designers who test the limits of what’s possible and what’s not. Unfortunately, these innovative artists lose attention after their one feature in a local newspaper and are forgotten.

So here’s a message to the interior industry; FUCK TABLES.

Because tables are a major point of interest in ones living room, it is a perfect tool to send a message. In this case a message directed to the meaningless interior decorators who are sitting on top of the rock, not letting anyone take their place.

A situation not only occurring in the world of interior design, but in most branches/categories of whatever you want to set your mind to.

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Fuck VE

Owning a business can be stressful and tiring.  As you create and develop the way your brand is perceived, you look at it very often. Even to the point that you start disliking your brand-appeal but keep working on it because, well, you’ve already started.

That’s when I shaved my head. This got me thinking about what I was doing and if I truly enjoyed it, like I enjoyed getting a buzz cut.

I realized I was focussing too much on how I thought a brand like mine should be perceived, rather than creating what I truly love, and think.

Don’t get me wrong. I still love my tables. It’s a matter of presentation, that’s all.

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