I met two new friends in a felafel bar in the middle of the night outside of the red district. It was so late, my options were limited. The man, Uri asked me about some drawings that I was working on, little carachters. He and his lady friend, Elle, were out on their 5 year aniversary. Uri announced it to the whole felafel ber, then inquired if his lady could get a free drink. The young woman behind the counter gave Elle a free orange juice, and Uri was quite pleased. Uri and Elle wrote down a number of good places for me to visit in the city, cafe's and scenic vistas.
I began a series of works which oppose my charachter drawings; one style is subjective, while the other is objective. I am mounitng the small paintings on found drywall.
During one of my late night walks, I came across the Harry van Gestel gallery, I stood at the window front for some time, taken back by the freshness and liveliness the the space was radiating. It was closed, but I made note to return the next day upon waking.
I set out walking to an electronics store, but being that it was Sunday, had no luck with finding one that was open. I went to the Harry van Gestel Gallery, and found two well dressed men talking with a man who was wearing red boots with flames on them, red shorts, and suspenders- it was Harry. He was fucking wild, pacing around the gallery hanging works up, taking works down with the help of his assistant, Thomas. Itermittingly he took breaks to sing Marlene Deitrich songs karaoke style at the top of his lungs. He would cry at the end of some performances. At six 'o clock, he began closing up his gallery. We smoked a joint together, and he invited me out for soup. On the way out the door, he told me to wait, then came back with a wrapped up painting, and told me to have it. The soup was great. I took the work of art home, and have at this moment, yet to open it.
The next afternoon I met Harry at his gallery again around noon. I showed him some of my work, which he was pleased with. He shared some insightful philosophy with me, then invited me to help him with a painting. He took out one of the paintings that he had stacked against the wall in his gallery, and set it out on the floor. Then, he mixed acrylic paint with water in so it was transparent. He handed me four tubes of his paint mixture and told me to start painting. When I'd used all of the paint, he came with a pot of coffee and poured it onto the canvas. I felt out of art supplies, but he encouraged me saying that there is plenty to work with here. I went to the sink and got some water, then poured it onto the canvas. He asked me to look outside in the garden. I went ouside and grabbed ceramic plates and dirt. It all made its way onto the canvas. We smoked and stepped back, we made moves as we saw them, and after a while I took my paintings which I showed him and began using them as a tool to scrape dirt around the canvas with. He encouraged me. "That's the shit!"
I left the painting. We smoked and talked. Afterward, he picked up my paintings and handed them to me, pointing out how my work differed in quality from making that move and from our art works sharing energy. He was very excited about the direction the paintings had gone. I stayed to watch Harry work on his painting more. He brought out a thick paste and poured it out onto the canvas, sealing in all of the dirt and debris from our collaboration. I left the gallery in the afternoon, my paintings stayed behind.
After leaving the gallery, I went by the AlbertHein market to pick up some edible supplies. I really enjoy being in a foreign market. When none of the products are familiar, I find it easier to shop based on quality and price rather than playing in to some sort of social identity based on consumption patterns. I bought bread, milk, muesli, levervurst, bananas, cheese, and blueberries. My diet thus far has been largely muesli, but I am excited to expand.
