VEINWORK | Expositie | het hart van Bron | Hilbert van der Staal
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Portfolio
Step into the veins of the unseen, where every drawing emerges from the emotional landscapes within. Each piece is born from lived experience and raw feeling, carefully shaped until it is ready to exist on its own.
Only fully realized works are presented here; new pieces appear in the gallery the moment they are ready to meet the public.
Behind the bones
Click the info button on each piece to explore its story. Here you can read additional texts, insights into the emotions behind the work, and details that reveal the journey from idea to finished drawing. Each piece has its own voiceβtake your time to discover it.
28. BLACKSERIES | THROUGH THE HOLLOW BONE
31. BLACKSERIES | UNDER MY BROKEN WINGS
09. BLACKSERIES | HER BONES BIND THE VOID WITHIN
18. BLACKSERIES | INHERITANCE
23. BLACKSERIES | LUNGS FULL OF ROOTS
32. BLACKSERIES | ONE DAY I WILL FLY - IT WILL BE MY DEATH
11. BLACKSERIES | SPLITCAGE
15. BLACKSERIES | DEADLINE
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β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 28 β’
Her body lies open.
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 28 β’
THROUGH THE HOLLOW BONE
Her body lies open.
Decayed, but not gone.
Once, everything flowed inwards,
but now, something begins to flow outwards.
As if emptiness itself has decided
not to be empty anymore.
Not the beginning, not the end,
but that thin, sacred moment in between.
And right there, in this quiet slit between what once was and what is yet to come,
something takes root that surpasses her.
Reaching for light,
but rooted in the dark.
Steadfast.
Grounded in herself.
Where others break,
there she stands.
A presence that remains,
even when no one is watching.
β’ Pencil & Charcoal powder on Paper β’
β’ 700x1000 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 31 β’
And then she stood there,
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 31 β’
UNDER MY BROKEN WINGS
And then she stood there,
with eyes like an unwritten sky.
Where no storm has yet raged before,
and no sea has run dry.
I, a house that's built on splinters,
tilting, on the verge of collapse.
Held my breath for just a moment,
and felt the draft slip through my gaps.
βItβs raining outside,β she whispered shakily.
And I saw the heavens dim,
the first wet drops began to fall,
and it seemed the warmth grew bright within.
Though my roof has known countless storms,
and the holes are like wounds that breathe with pain,
I carry the dust from ancient times,
yet for her, I opened my doors again.
β’ Pencil on Paper β’
β’ 420x594 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 07 β’
You know youβre going too far.
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 07 β’
CRAWLING
You know youβre going too far.
You know where I draw the line.
But you donβt stop.
You twist. You push. You bite.
And I β I freeze,
and let happen what is already too late.
You know I donβt like this.
You know this is hurting me.
And yet you go on.
You pry. You pull. You press.
And I β I stay silent,
because there's nothing else left.
There is no space left in my body.
I close my eyes and drift away.
There is only black,
slowly taking me over.
β’ Pencil on Paper β’
β’ 420x594 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 09 β’
It is in that moment
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 09 β’
HER BONES BIND THE VOID WITHIN
It is in that moment
of pure vulnerability
I realize I can just take it off,
and I get scared.
And even though
I long for this absolute freedom,
it just proves me
how deeply I am scarred.
My sacred scars donβt show.
Donβt show my sacred scars.
In that instant
of pure fragility
I realize I can just let it go,
and I feel scared.
And even though
I crave this total liberation,
it just reveals
how deeply I am scarred.
My sacred scars donβt show.
Donβt show my sacred scars.
And right there in the quiet
of pure intimacy
I realize I can just step out of it,
and I am scared.
Because even though
I dream of being released,
I would do anything
to hold on to my scars.
β’ Pencil on Paper β’
β’ 210x277 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 18 β’
I wear the helmet, the weight of silence.
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 18 β’
INHERITANCE
I wear the helmet, the weight of silence.
Words are rotting in my throat.
What has happened, what I have seenβ¦
It is crawling through my bones.
They look at me, questioning.
But my heart is dark-black.
What I feel, what I thinkβ¦
We won't speak of it again.
But what if I reclaim my voice?
And tear open the silence.
Everything I have seen and feltβ¦
Is no longer a burden, but a shield.
I look at you.
And drop everything I've carried.
What I felt, what I thoughtβ¦
Finally becomes something that protects.
β’ Pencil on Paper β’
β’ 210x277 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 23 β’
I pulled myself up,
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 23 β’
LUNGS FULL OF ROOTS
I pulled myself up,
perhaps a thousand times.
And each time I fell back,
deeper into the nest of addiction.
As if the bushes stretched out their branches
and grabbed me with a patience older than myself.
They towered high above me,
grew faster than I could climb.
And whenever I thought I saw an opening,
the roots pulled me back into the depths.
Not with force, but with something far slyer:
the promise that I was safe inside.
I climbed to where the light began,
caught patches of blue through the dark green.
But before I could even breathe,
the roots slid up along my legs again.
Not with violence, but with a gentle voice:
βJust stay here, this is where you belong.β
And so I stayed, time after time.
Not because I had won,
but because I learned to carry the roots
just as I carry my scars.
Like breathing, without even wanting to.
They coiled around my bones,
became part of my weight.
And my body, my pace, my directionβ¦
had long ceased to be my own.
β’ Pencil & Acrylic paint on Paper β’
β’ 420x594 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 32 β’
Dear Diary. 19-04-2024
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 32 β’
ONE DAY I WILL FLY - IT WILL BE MY DEATH
Dear Diary. 19-04-2024
Itβs around half past ten at night, and while Iβm already lying in bed, a feeling creeps over me. I canβt sleep. I softly feel my wifeβs breath on my neck. She has draped her leg over mine, and in the darkness I stare at the ceiling, listening to the rhythm of her breathing. She is already asleep. Slowly, I drift back to that feeling. βTomorrow I will die,β I think, βit is my time. Tomorrow I will return to Source.β
β’ Pencil on Paper β’
β’ 420x594 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 11 β’
Tighterβ
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 11 β’
SPLITCAGE
Tighterβ
A little bit tighterβ
I canβ
one more notchβ
Justβoneβmoreβ
All the way until Iβ
..crack..
feel.
Deeperβ
Holdingβmyβbreathβdeeperβ
I canβ
justβaβlittleβmoreβ
All theβway untilβ
black is all Iβ
..snap..
feel.
Furtherβ
Always furtherβ
Until I taste the iron on my tongue..
Until nothing else remains..
Until I feel nothing anymore.
..but..
do I still feel?
β’ Pencil on Paper β’
β’ 210x277 β’
β’ Pitt Graphite Matt β’
Β© het hart van Bron. All rights reserved.
×
β’ BLACKSERIES | no. 15 β’
Too tightly wound. Too long ignored.