After being informed about the intention of the Royal Library to archive my website, I wondered how some of the aspects my site has may affect what is being collected.
Specifically:

  • Most of my postings are kept away from the front page but end up in specific categories. These postings do show up in monthly archives and overview pages like for a tag or category.
  • Some of my postings are unlisted in the site, yet are publicly available. Mostly these are postings I originally only shared through RSS, such as my week notes. They are not in overviews, don’t show up as search results, but have public URLs, and you can navigate to them if you click next / previous post on their surrounding posts in the timeline.

The crawler that will be used for the archiving is Heritrix, which is also used by the Internet Archive itself.
A quick test of some posts from both of the two types above shows they are likely not in the internet archive. I mailed the Royal Library to ask how Heritrix may or may not deal with my site’s quirks. Or perhaps I can generate a complete site map and make that available?

I think I’ll put this up on the front page 😉

Although it’s January, and nominally the middle of the school year, a new ‘back to school’ photo is warranted.
Y starts in group 7 today, skipping a year at the half way mark. She started in group 6 after the summer, and is now moving to group 7. After the coming summer she will move to the final year of primary school in group 8. In the past two weeks she did the middle-of-year tests of both group 6 and 7, and already spent some hours in her new group to get used to the change. She asked us to make a new first day of school photo today.

Child getting on a bike

Going to school the first day in 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020.

Today is Koppermaandag in the Netherlands, ‘cupping monday’. The first Monday after 6 January, when graphics artists and printers show their skills by making something: a Koppermaandag print.

Traditionally, since the early 1400s, Koppermaandag was the day that members of all guilds would have a festive day for the new year. ‘Kopperen’ (‘cupping’) as a verb comes from kop (cup) and stands for feasting and drinking. The tradition waned in the 18th century with the dissolution of the guilds, and only the printers kept doing it, until that too faded. Since World War II several groups of graphics artists and printers have taken up the tradition again. That is how I know of it: E’s great-uncle was a member of the Groninger group of artists De Ploeg and in 1962 a founder of the Grafisch Centrum Groningen. There they made their Koppermaandag prints. The 1965 print was drawn by him and shows him flattened under the printing press.

Last June during a workshop for Y’s birthday with Roy Scholten in the Grafisch Atelier Hilversum I saw their Koppermaandag prints. The next day I marked Koppermaandag 2026 in my calendar, with the intention of doing something for it by myself.

For me knowledge work has always been artisanal in nature. It is a form of professional work where your tools are personal, where your path is your own. Autonomy within networks, learning in networks, creating in and with networks. This makes personal knowledge plus your approach to maintaining it and learning important (usually dubbed personal knowledge management, or pkm). Having your own system for your personal knowledge is both what allows you to create your professional autonomy (your insights woven into connections that have meaning for you), and what ensures your continued professional autonomy (you take it with you when you go someplace else).

For today I wanted to combine those things. Knowledge work as artisanal profession. This links it back to the original guilds. Second the personal aspect of it, and third making something by hand to print, like the card I made (be)for(e) Christmas. The latter links it to the modern Koppermaandag tradition of graphics printers and artists.

I made a card, with the text (P)KM and the number 26. KM for Koppermaandag as well as for Knowledge Management and the P for personal. My personal koppermaandag, and personal knowledge management. The background is a network. The nodes are concepts, things, actors. The connections between them are the insights that grew from combining them, forming a neighbourhood and context for each node. Something I associate both with Bruno Latour‘s ANT and George Siemensconnectivism. The frame around it is not closed, and some connections cross it, because while always defined and bounded in each moment a personal knowledge network is not enclosed nor stagnant.

The design I cut in lino, in what must be the first time since primary school. Then I printed it on our small press. The letters and the lines are wonky. That does make it an accurate demonstration of my capabilities though, as per the tradition of Koppermaandag.

Happy (personal) Koppermaandag!

Last Thursday our Christmas tree was picked up by the grower again. Every year we get the same tree, delivered to our door in December, picked up again in January. We never saw the delivery or pick-up happen, so we joked it was actually done by Christmas elves. The grower puts it back in the soil for the year. This time we did see the pick-up. Turns out, elves or not, they wore the grower’s working outfits.

E and I talked about how long we’ve had this specific tree. (The previous one did not survive a drought period one summer).
My blog tells me we first had this one in 2022, so this was our fourth Christmas with this tree.

A few weeks ago Y and I visited the printing art fair in town. The local second hand book shop had, as curiosa, put up a number of frames containing things they found inside books they received. Paper money, shares and other official documents, paper cigar bands, post cards, all things used as bookmark or perhaps hidden between the pages. It was fun to look at, and with Y wonder why some of those things had ended up between the pages.

A book I ordered, Information Anxiety by Richard Saul Wurman, at Kennys Bookshop and Art Galleries in Galway, Ireland, arrived today in the mail.

Leaving through it, I noticed towards the end something between the pages.
A rail road ticket from 28 January 1991, one way from Chiasso (on the Italian border) to Biasca, in the Swiss canton Ticino. The book itself is a September 1990 paperback print (from a 1989 publication).
So whoever made that train trip, may well have been the books first owner, and have browsed through it on the train, with the ticket ending up between the pages.

While the book is in excellent condition, not at all ‘well traveled’, it does make me wonder about its path through the world. From that 1991 train trip up the valley towards the St. Gotthard massif, to a bookshop in Galway, Ireland. And now to my bookshelves.

I’ll keep the train ticket, with the punched hole, and use it as bookmark in this work myself.