I Rather be generous is our name, is our attitude, navigation tool and orientation. We believe that better stories make a better world. Our stories are about how we can be more generous in our work, in our thinking, and most of all in our daily lives. For us, generosity is not a list of rules but a collective endeavour that must be shaped and practiced repeatedly. We have developed all kinds of tools and techniques, such as thinking together in an affirmative conversation, and opening our process, our sources, attempts, experiments and mistakes, so that others can learn from them. From our own practice as generous writers and thinkers, we seek out others to learn from them and to spread even more generous stories. 

The first of the many experiments we started, was the decision that everything would be a conversation from that point. We realized we can only change the world if we work together, so the conversation was a very concrete starting point. Among the many other things we have tried out, developed, practiced and published, we have also been experimenting with writing fiction. 

We both have been researchers and writers for many years, but writing fiction is clearly something else. But just writing fiction, was not enough, we wanted to change the circumstances of writing into a more generous practice. One of the things we tried out was to write for someone as a sort of gift.

 

This story is written for Jenny Boulboullé, in honour of the publication of her PhD: Jenny Boulboullé, Laboratory epistemologies. A hands-on perspective. Durham: Duke University Press, 2024. 

 

In her book she subverts the pervasive modern conception of the disembodied knower. All knowledge in the life sciences is for an important part based on hands-on experiments. She argues that the epistemology of those sciences is grounded in the hands-on (material) knowledge of the laboratory, on the senses and specifically on touch. This evaluation is not only based on participant observation (and schooling) in labs and cleanrooms, but is embedded in a longue-durée study of the history and philosophy of science. Bio-artists play a special role in the investigation. They inspired the rethinking of scientific knowledge production. 

 

I got to know and value Jenny when she was a PhD student in my research group New Representational Spaces (Leiden/Amsterdam). Days were full of inspired and passionate conversations. But equally important is that she is really good in sharing and caring. A great example of what we call generosity. And her research is also generous in that sense, it shines a light on undervalued (knowledge)work, on the plasticity of thought, and the importance of experience and experiment in knowledge production. 

 

This story is for her, as an acknowledgement for all this. 

It has been read on May 27, 2025, on the occasion of the presentation of the book at the University of Amsterdam

 

 

Longue Durée is on a mission

[Story for Jenny] 

 

Feeling a bit awkward, Longue Durée rang the bell at the door of the grand mansion. She was still young, and had thought herself adventurous enough to give it a try. Her long-term friend Aesthetics had persuaded her with an enticing story of loss and betrayal. Longue Durée knew that Aesthetics cared deeply about what she called ‘her better half’. Aesthetics had sensed, no she knew, that he was in some sort of crisis. And there were rumours about Epistemology’s fate which could not be ignored. ‘I know he can be lazy’ Aesthetics had told Longue Durée, ‘He tends to forget where he’s from’. ‘Rumour has it he is just drowsing on the sofa of Universal Knowledge’. ‘That old bastard must surely be dead by now’, she muttered. 

Longue Durée really wanted to help her friend. ‘Okay’, she had said, ‘I’ll do my very best to see what I can find out, once I’m inside’. But now she wasn’t so sure anymore. The mansion was imposing and darkly towering over her. For comfort she put her hand in her pocket and felt the reassuring presence of her wax ball, and squeezed it lightly. Here she was, in front of a door that looked solidly closed to her.

 

So, to her startling surprise the door opened with some schwung, and she looked up expectantly. A sturdy man in a uniform stood in the doorway, blocking her view. He stared at her with piercing eyes, looking sternly at her girly dress, and specifically at the stain she had forgotten about that morning when she was getting dressed. ‘What is your business here?’ he asked in a formal tone of voice. 

Longue Durée hid her hands behind her back and wavered, but only for one second. 

She thought of her friend Aesthetics and looked the man boldly in the eye. ‘I am here to learn and investigate!’, she said with great enthusiasm. Anyone who knows Longue Durée longer than today will agree: that’s her alright. ‘And who are you?’ she asked. ‘I am Protocol’, he answered, ‘but I have not always been a doorman’ he hastened to add. He loosened his limbs and thought of his days with the Serious Experimenter. Looking again at the girl on his doorstep he grinned. She felt a giggle rise from her tummy. He was okay, she decided. ‘Actually, I am here to do a multisited historio-ethnographical investigation’, she quipped. Protocol nodded approvingly. She ticked all the boxes, she was self-conscious enough and he definitely liked her vocabulary. So, yes, he let her in. She was slightly surprised. 

 

She entered the hallway and started for the column holding the plan of the building. It seemed to have a clear structure and easy to navigate. Three floors, but not all rooms had numbers or names she noticed. She seemed closest to the Gallery[slash]Studiolab on the ground floor. Let’s start there she thought. Approaching the door to the gallery she heard laughter and interesting noises. Opening the door, she saw a bunch of people sitting at a table eating tiny steaks. ‘Welcome to the Studiolab’, someone said in a friendly voice, ‘How is our dear friend Aesthetics?’ ‘She is fine’, Longue Durée answered, ‘but she is worried about her old partner Epistemology’. ‘Have you heard from him? Do you know where I can find him?’ She detected some nervous looks being exchanged. ‘He is a bit of an old fart’ someone in the back said, ‘we tried to have some discussions with him, but he didn’t seem very interested’. Longue Durée looked around. It dawned on her that it was quite miraculous to find a gallery, sorry Studiolab, in this building. ‘How did you all get in?’ she asked. ‘Ah, quite an interesting story, but not for now’, a friendly fellow said. ‘Actually, we got help from one of the old twins’, one of the women offered. Longue Durée looked at her expectantly. The woman, more a girl like herself, told her about the twins who had drifted apart long ago. A sad story. There was no one in particular to blame. ‘It’s just that they preferred one over the other’, the woman sighed. ‘And so, it turned out that Contemplation was the man to watch; his brother Manipulation has struggled ever since. From being belittled and patronised to rumours about inappropriate behaviour, you know, touching. His position has become precarious, and he’s banned to the basement basically.’ ‘But that was the one who let us in, actually.’ Longue Durée nodded, that made sense somehow. The twin story interested her immediately. In the back of her head, she intuited that it might have something to do with the sad story of her friend Aesthetics and that old beau of hers, Epistemology. There was some sort of iteration, she felt. She definitely wanted to get on with her investigation. 'The guys next door, in the In-Touch-With-Life Laboratory, might know more’, one of them offered. ‘They’re actually quite cool. We love being on the same floor.’ 

 

So Longue Durée opened the next door and was met by shrieks. A white body suit was thrown at her (she caught it just before it hit the floor!), she was redirected to a row of washbasins, scrubbed her hands obediently for a while, feeling awkward all over again. But finally stepping into the very clean room, she felt …. mesmerised. ‘Did you close the door tight’, Hands-off hissed at her, ‘Contamination has sneaked in before, you know’. She moved as diligently as she could, sensing that was required of her. She saw all kinds of glassy instruments, and marvelled at the precise ways they handled the fragile tools. Could she ask them to teach her? She definitely wanted to! One of the assistants saw her excitement and introduced herself. ‘Hi, I’m Hands-on and I can tell you, you’re very welcome to join us and learn some of the stuff we are doing’. Longue Durée felt her hands itching inside their gloves. Hands-on called two of the earnest looking, older women working together on a bench and asked them to show her around. ‘Hi, I’am Care’, one said, ‘and I am Dexterity’, said the other. ‘Do you have the stamina to come and learn with us?’ Longue Durée started to grin, ‘I can tell you, Stamina is my second name’, she laughed. 

 

Peeking over someone’s shoulder she saw what they were working on: it was one of those miniscule ‘Handle-me-carefully-do-not-touch-me Life’ things. Wow, that threw her. And then it confused her. She felt herself sweating in her white suit. What in knowledge name were they doing? Was it dangerous to do? And how came this room to be called In-Touch-With-Life, when….? Because she was who she was, she sorted through all of these sudden questions and calmed down a bit. There must surely be a connection between everything she had heard and experienced so far. She suddenly felt sure she would also find Epistemology. She just needed to keep going.

 

Care and Dexterity told her she could go to the basement to seek out Manipulation. They had learned a lot from him. But she would not find Epistemology there. He might visit the basement sometimes, but only after dark, they thought. According to them that might have to do with what he had let himself slip into: the regime of the Contemplators. If Longue Durée didn’t know: they were the Thought Collective that inhabited the airy loft of the Mansion. And they saw themselves as the worthy heirs of Universal Knowledge. They laughed softly, ‘they wouldn’t even know how to handle a pipette’. ‘Even the artists next door do better’.  

 

Longue Durée decided to skip the basement for now, and started to climb the long and winding stairs. Before reaching the top, she heard the sounds of a debate going on. Somewhere to the left, the rattling of keyboards. To the right a huge library. She knocked at the central door. ‘Come in’ an authoritative voice boomed. Once she had her foot over the threshold, she started to look up. But the voice had come from a very slight man, disproportional large head, looking at her suspiciously. Light seemed to emanate from him (but that was the skylight). The tag on his lapel read Prof. Dr. Cognition. ‘Do you know who I am?’ ‘I can read’ she countered. Unconsciously she stepped back a little. He was not going to deter her from her quest, telling her what’s what. She just sensed he was such a man. Very self-important and self-assured. He had his hands in his pockets, she noticed. ‘I am the head of this Mansion’ he boasted. ‘But surely you’re not holding it up all by yourself’, she heard herself saying, not able to avert her look from his neatly coiffed head. ‘Of course not’ he said in a clipped voice, ‘I have two senior assistants, Ratio and Logic, they are over there’. He was pointing at two men in black suits, eyes closed, but talking with clear voices to a group of people sitting in a carrée. ‘They are doing most of the work’. He had not needed to elaborate, Longue Durée knew very well who they were. 

Right about then she heard soft mumbling voices. From the corner of her eye she detected a very small door, hardly visible. She turned and went for it. The door was a bit stuck, but after some effort she could shove it open. In the dark she could make out two old men sitting on low stools. One was softly speaking to the other. He looked up, and rose. She noticed his stoop and large watery eyes. ‘Maybe you can help us?’, he spoke tentatively. He introduced himself as Contemplation. ‘I thought you would be in the big room’ she said. ‘Oh no, they have kind of taken over. I am old and starting to doubt my position, I even miss my brother’. He sighed. ‘So now it’s the two of us here’ he said. ‘This is Epistemology, by the way’. The other man slowly looked up. She was looking at an old, gloomy, unhappy man. 

 

‘I have come in search of you’, she said. ‘But I think this has become a rescue mission, am I right?’ They nodded. Now the older man was starting to look more intently at her. ‘I think I have heard about you’, he said. ‘And yes, rescue might be the right word’. He sighed and looked at his arthritic hands and showed them to her. ‘How could I forget about them? How could I have become so lazy, so vain, thinking I know it all …. and do nothing’. Longue Durée smiled. ‘No worries’, she said optimistically, ‘that can be repaired’. ‘Your old missus still has feelings for you, and I know she would be glad to meet up.’ A little fire came back to his eyes and a smile broke on his face. Longue Durée suddenly understood what her old friend saw in him. He did have some serious appeal now that the energy seemed to flow back into him. ‘Let’s get out of this dump’, Longue Durée urged them, ‘and don’t forget the letters you were sifting through’. She had seen them lying on the table and had recognized the handwriting. Epistemology stood up with more energy than expected. ‘But let’s go to the basement first’, he suggested, ‘and check if the old geezers are still alive, with their instruments, their knife and quill, and their tinkering, and see if they didn’t blow themselves up’. ‘And then I am more than ready to visit my old love, see if I can persuade her to come here’. ‘And maybe we can do a LAT relationship?’ he added softly to himself.

 

Longue Durée squeezed her magic wax ball secretly and felt her mission was completed. But she had to admit she wasn’t ready to leave the Mansion yet. No, she definitely wanted to see what more it had in store for her. 

 

Miriam van Rijsingen

27 May 2025