I was prepared to leave today, at least that was the initial plan. I worked through the early morning, and afternoon preparing the house for the arrival of the Dennis Family in coming weeks. Karen had agreed to store a painting or two while I traveled, a generous offer which plucked at my already resonating strings of attachment for two of my larger, unfinished works. I thought to use the offer to further postpone the completion of the paintings. The house shaped up well but by late afternoon, I began to feel the implications of leaving such a large task to be dealt with at the end of my forthcoming travels. It would mean that upon returning to Amsterdam, I would need to find accommodations, find a studio, transport the paintings, work for days straight to complete them, then deal with their packaging and shipping. The paintings, though they had taught me a lot, were beginning to look more like garbage. I called Karen to consult our options. She showed kindness in extending my stay by two days, so that I may come to the most-right decision. With the accommodation extension, I felt a heavy burden lifted from my shoulders. Time is an illusion, but one that I'd felt behind on.
I notified Josine and Carlos down in the gallery of my extended stay. Upon leaving the gallery, I was asked by a beautiful young woman where the Houseboat Museum was. I fif not know, but thought my friends at the local corner cafe might, so we took a wak together. Nobody at the cafe knew the answer to our question, so we consulted our phones. The museum was just down the street by a few blocks, so I walked with her. When we arrived, we saw that it was closed. I asked if she wanted to geab something to eat, and she agreed. Her name was Tin Tin. She was visiting on holiday form her studies in Paris. She was a graphic design major, but has come to the decision that upon returning, she would like to pursue children's book illustration. She was happy to hear about my stay in Amsterdam, and excited to see my work, of which I had my Berlin envelope paintings with me. I showed her some other works of mine from my cell phone. We walked through the red light district, looking for a cheap fish and chips place. She had yet to enter the red light district, and wanted to see some of the girls. She commented on how beautiful they were. I mentioned that they were Eastern European, but did not get into discussion about human trafficking and sex-slavery, be it the case or not. We found our spot, Bobby's Diner, where I had a slice of cheese pizza and Tin Tin had fish and chips. We discussed illustrators and academic plans. I had been carrying a shipping envelope throughout the night. I placed the envelope on the table, took out a pen, and made a gestural scribble. I placed the pen in front of her as an offering. She understood. She took the pen and continued drawing from my scribble. A few shapes, then she handed the pen back. It was sexy. We continued drawing throughout our meal. She sat accross from me, so what I drew right-side up, she would interpret upside-down and visa versa. Intermittently, we would turn the paper around to work it from a new perspective. Our meal was finished, and our table was bussed, but we continued to draw. The back and forth was taking too long for her, so she did the hottest thing, pulled out her own pen. It was a blue ballpoint, smooth and bold. We worked the drawing harder and stopped talking. The page began to fill, and we began blocking in spaces with values. Shapes and forms were reinterpreted liberally, often reading differently from different angles. We began to stand up, and sit down, and walk around the drawing, and look at it while squinting. Towards the end, we began trouble-shooting; pushing things back and placing focal points with contrasting values. We'd spent four hours in the restaraunt. The drawing was done.
I signed it "The pizza eater" and tried to give it to the waiter. The waiter, to our astonishment, was incredibly rude. He did not want to take the drawing, and criticized us for spending such an extended amount of time in his restaraunt. He insisted that if we want to spend four hours somewhere, it shoulf not be here. He noted that he didn't mind, but the fact was it was a restaraunt. He was the only one working and I thought afterward, "If he didn't mind, then who did?"
It should be nmoted that through the duration of the drawing, the Bobby's Diner was close to vacant. We left, saddened by our friends lack of enthusiasm. We wishes him well. I now know of one place in Amsterdam not to go back to,
Tin Tin and I walked to Centraal Staion, where she offered that I join her the following morning to see the windmills. Overcome with serendipity, I did not have to think about saying yes. We agreed to meet again in the morning at a designated meeting point outside of the station. I saw her onto her train back to the hotel, then walked back to Bloemgracht to turn in for the night.
