To Switzerland

Market Day

This morning I set out to sell some paintings on the street. I had a location selected from last week by the East Side Gallery. Braden and I shared a cup of coffe in the apartment. He gave me some business advise pertaining to pricing and presentation. It felt like the first day of school. Braden also gave me a box, which was used for hos airmattress, which I sit on while composing this post. I put my drawings in the box and was off to Kreutzberg. I arrived as the sun began to some out. It was closer to morning than mid day but there had yet to be any direct sunlight. I found a lovely section of a piece of furniture which I thought to use for a table to display my apintings. I dragged it out from its garbage heap and carefully laid out my works one by one on the white canvas furniture. I took a seat and began to make refinements on a drawing while I waited for my first costumer. Within on e minute of sitting down, there was a strong gust of wind which sent all of my drawings into the air. I sprang up and chased them down. Some bystanders helped me collect them. I set them up again. The wind blew again. I decided to change locations. I relocated to a bridge, on which I'd seen plenty of buskers. I thought that surely the wind wouldn't be a problem in the interior of a bridge corridor, but I was mistaken. My works went flying as before. I packed my things and set out to find a solution. I walked by my friends, Vier and Jacob whom I'd met the day before. They were painting using a cherry-picker outside of a large music venue. They inquired what I was doing with such a large box, to which I showed them my drawings and told then my plans for the afternoon. Vier suggested that I find some souble sided tape to stick them to the surface by their backings. I thought this was a great idea, thanked him, and went to a nearby shop where I found some tape. 

Tape in hand, I walked back to my original location. I dragged out the piece of garbage furniture as before and taped the drawings down to the canvas surface. The system worrked quite well. I made a sign that said 'My name  is Kemeys Goethe. I hope you're having a lovely day.' and another that said '15 euros'. 

I talked with a woman who was interested in my drawings. Her name was Marian. She was a graphic designer and thai chi enthusiast. She'd lived in Berlin for most of her life and shared stories about how she has seen it change. She also practiced calligrapy and mentioned that she would not have the patience to make drawings as I had with a ballpoint pen. I had a bottle of ink and a brush with me and sked if she would demonstrate her work for me in my sketchbook. She happily obliged, and I was grateful to see her become quite playful and curious with her expressive markmaking. We talked about the power that art has to liberate the mind. She totally got it. 

I spoke with another woman about the drawings named Anne, who ws traveling from Barcelona, then another woman from Stuttgart. People seemed interested in the drawings, and interested in me, but not interested in dropping 15 euros on a coaster. I can't blame them. I trashed the sign that said '15 euro' and replaced it with another drawing that I'd just finished. I was honest with myself that this was less about the money and more about the experience to share my art, and talk to beautiful people.  Once the price sign was gone, more people began to come up to me and ask me about my drawings. I was much more plesed with the fact that our conversations had finances out of the equation. With the more natural flow of conversation too, the observer could ask about  buying as he/she felt comfortable. A couple from Luxembourg bought a drawing for 6 euros after I requested that they pay as the see fit. Another woman bought two drawings for 2euros a piece. And my final sale of the day was for three euros and fifty cents. 

I came to several conclusions during my time selling work today. I believe that leaving a price sign out can be intimidating for eople that amy otherwise be interested in talking and buying a piece. I believe that people want to support me and my passion for drawing, but not to the tune of 15 euros a piece. I believe that if there is an exchange that is most favorable for both parties, it is one that is inexpensive and practical. 

Practicality- I believe that the drawings on coasters are charming, but not totally practical. One woman suggested that I clear coat the coasters so that when she uses it, the drawing won't be ruined. I hadn't thought that upon buying one, it would return to its use as a coaster. Surely, I had transformed it into a work of fine art, seperated from the world of practical applications (I jest). This notion sent me into thinking about what these drawings can do for people- without effectively communicative content, not much. There is a quote from and NPR article discussing the definition of creativity. They say that creativity is something that is both novel AND useful. I felt that my drawings were novel, but not useful. And for something not useful, overpriced. 

Although each coaster took close to an hour to draw. I was happy to sell them for 2 euros a piece, 3 euros a piece, because that is what the customer wanted to pay. 

I felt quite happy the whole time I was sitting by my drawings, taking with people. It felt like a more managable and organic version of an opeining reception. The subject matter was usually already understood to be your work, so ther was a natural starting point. Further, an easy out for people is buying a drawing, and going on thier way. 

In the late afternoon, my friend Carl (who has dressed as the 'Neighkid Horse' and played guitar for change every day for the past three months here in Berlin to make rent and pay for living expenses) came to join me in the busking quest. I was happy to see him again and to meet his friend Liz, from Vancouver. Liz was considering buying property in Berlin and I was curious as to how she was going about it, being a foreighner. She was courteous to walk me through the process which she'd used to find apartments, and to place a down payment. I took Liz to be a very smart woman. 

Carl decided he'd made his money for the day and the two of them set off. Moments later, my friend Rikard arrived as planned for our painting date. We went by the paint shop, where I used my money from sales to buy spray paint. We set off for the wall which I'd been to the day prior, to paint something quickly before the sun set. I managed a charachter and Rikard managed a small piece. We did not get good pictures due to lighting. Afterward, we went to a doner restaraunt where we sat for some time and drew together. I taught him about letter structure, as he was interested in graffiti, but had not been painting for long. Our server was named Huseyin. I thought to draw his name in graffiti letters, but it seemed quite long. He sensed my hesitation, and suggested that I draw the name of his wife, Anna. I spent the next two hours drawing a full page of letter designs for 'Anna'. When his shift ended, I gave him the drawing and wished him a good night. Rikard and I left shortly after. I walked back to Braden's apartment. 

Rikard and I plan to meet again tomorrow morning to paint pieces in the daylight. 

Drawing Day

I spent the morning with Braden. We went to a cafe in Kreutzberg, then split off for our own adventures. I walked around the block and across the river by the east side gallery. I saw a couple murals painted by Blu, an incredible street artist, and walked to take a closer look. At the base of the murals was a squat community. Tents and shanty houses abound. I walked in through the gates and stood in front if the murals. The community was just waking up. People were walking out of their tents and stretching. They were very friendly, nodding good morning to me. I walked around a bit and found a nice seat by the river, one of several chairs set around a fire pit. From my chair I could see a gentleman rolling out a section on the graffiti wall, to paint a mural. I began drawing on my coasters and there I sat through the morning, afternoon, and early part of the evening. He approached me to talk and inquire about my drawings. We talked for some time. his name was Julian. He was from Nuremburg. His painting ws of a dove in flight. He told me that he enjoys paintings birds because his last name is vogel; German for bird. 

I kept him company while drawing. When he finished, I helped him take pictures with his piece. He wrote next to the painting 'A new bird is born', because during the painting, he recieved a phone call from his brother that his sister-in-law had just delivered a beautiful baby girl. Julian had become an uncle. I helped Julian get his supplies into his car and saw him off. He will continue to travel and paint for the next two weeks. 

In the late evening, I went to antoher cafe with Braden. Through the course of the day, I'd made 13 drawings, which brought my total to 20. I'd reached my goal. In the morning I would try my hand at selling the drawings in the street. 

Berlin: Round Two

I recieved yet another extenison to my stay in Amsterdam by one day so I could wrap up a project. 

Once I'd completed aforementioned project, I set to minimizing befor I left town. I had some spray paint left over and decided to try to use it up. I went to Henxs to inquire about a good legal wall. My friend Lucanne referred me to Flavo Park on the Northeast side of town. I packed my bag and rode my bike out to the bridge which she said was an understood legal spot. By the time I got out there, the sun was setting and I was racing with daylight to make the painting. I decided to paint a charachter for a friend of mine who goes by the nickname wizard. I was pleased with the result of the painting, though by the time I'd finished, it was dark out. I was happy to be done with the cans of paint. I believe I put them to good use. Hopefully, I will be able to get a good photo in daylight next time I'm in Amsterdam. 

 Early the following morning, I left for Berlin. My route involved one train change in Hanover. I slept on the first train. I noticed a woman sitting a number of seats in front of me. I was taken back by her beauty and charming smile as she spoke with the ticket inspector. At the Hanover stop, she got up and picked up a gorgeous dog which I'd not yet seen. It was a French Bulldog. I used the layover time to grab some lunch, then I found a seat on the ground at my next train platform. The beautiful woman appeared on the platform with her dog and took a seat next to me. I commented that I found her dog beautiful, and inquired if I could pet it. We talked about the dog, Lilu, then began delving into each other's stories. Her name was Judith. She was a stylist for a company which recieved contracts from high end fashion labels. Her job involved making aesthetic decisions pertaining to hair, makeup, and most importantly, clothing during photo shoots. She'd worked in Augsbourg for the past 6 years, and makes a weekend commute to Berlin to visit her boyfriend. Lilu was not hers, she was dog-sitting for a friend, which I believed was palatable in their affection for each other. It seemed new and fresh. Judith spoke english very well and our conversation felt natural. We boarded the train together, and due to overcapacity, found seats on the floor. We kept each other company and shared the task of managing Lilu on the train ride to Berlin. I drew three portraits of Lilu on the train ride, though I did not have a good opportunity to observe her features while I made the drawings. Consequently, the drawings missed the mark in terms of likeness, but I did manage to capture some spirit. We arrived in Berlin in the afternoon. I gave Judith her choice of Lilu protrait, and thanked her for the company. 

I took a metro to the apartment of my friend Braden, who has bravely traveled to Berlin to find employment for the duration of one year. I hosted him while I had my apartment, so he was happy to return the favor. When I got to his house we shared stories of how our past week apart had gone. Braden had mostly been fighting the German visa beaurocracy, to document his accommodations and place of employment. I'm happy to have a friend like Braden. He is committed to his career as a programmer, and incredibly efficient at attaining his goals. Beyond that he is incredibly easy to get along with. 

After some time of conversation, we both eagerly put our noses back to the grindstone. He began creating an automated system for application testing across multiple software platforms, and I continued a series of character drawings, which I'd been working on over the past few days. My intention while here in Berlin is to create twenty character drawings on coasters, then set up shop on Tuesday at the East Side Gallery (where I met my friends doing the same last week). 

I'd like to know that I can make 50euros in one day from my work. All focus is on this short term goal. So far I have six drawings.

Windmills

I met with Tin Tin this mornig as planned in front of Cantraal Staion. We bought our tickets, and headed toward Koog-Zaandijk, where we understood ( by refrence of her travel guide) there would be windmills. A woman on the train gave us the run-down on the best way to see the windmills. We were happy to take her advice and upon arriving at our stop, set out in accordance with her directions. We came across a bicycle rental entrepreneur. Tin Tin and I agreed that it would be a lovely day to ride bikes, so we each rented one from the kind man, and set off. The weather was gorgeous and we soon saw windmills on the horizon from the town of De Zaanse. We rode across a beautiful modern bridge and were soon at the village. De Zaanse was at one point a functioning cocoa mill, and grain processing hub. Today it is home to one of the largest tourist traps in Holland. There were lovely paved walkways along the stretch of manicured farmland. There was a line of seven windmills, four of which were turning in full force. It was beautiful to see among the crowds of other tourists. Each windmill, though part of the same attraction, charged admission between one to three euros. There were strupwaffel stands which sold individual waffels (note strupwaffel is very much different from a stanfard waffel) for a euro a piece. We chose to reserve our money, and spend our time instead riding our bikes around the town. We got off the beaten path a bit and found ourselves riding on a path through a field of barley. The grass was tall and the soil was moist. We got off our bikes and began to walk. After some time we came to a narrow bridge which we used great care in crossing with our bikes, as it only had on guard rail. We came across more bridges, these with both rails, which we forged. We used one bridge as a photo opportunity. I posed in a handstand in the center of the bridge and Tin Tin captured a great photo of it. We found a bench which overlooked the farmland, windmills in the background. We sat and took out or sketchbooks. Tin Tin brought a large drawing pad, and filled the page with observational drawings from her vantage point. I accentuated a drawing that I'd done earlier of a windmill. After finishing our respective drawings, we went to the De Zaanse Museum. We skipped past the ticket desk without paying. I was happy that we didn't pay. Inside, we found what was essentially another tourist trap, filled with a collection of rural antique whatever-the-fucks, most of which were poolry lit and unlabeled. There were several paintings whose frames cast a harsh shadow across the center of the painting. There was however, no shortage of things which could be purchased. We skipped out on the gift shop, and rode back to our bicycle entrepeneur friend to return the bikes. On the way we found a brilliant skatepark underneath a bridge, with beautiful graffiti adorning all of the walls. We spent some time taking photos and watching the skateboarders before continuing on and returning our bikes. We took the train back to Amsterdam, where we set off walking to the Houseboat Museum. upon arriving, I split off to return to Bloemgracht and prepare for travels ahead. Tin Tin offered that I come visit her in Paris, or during the summer months in Cheng Du, China. I returned the offer, and we parted ways. I will be hapy to continue our friendship. 

Extra Time

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. 

A Romantic Day

 I'd had a difficult nights sleep as I was disrupted by hunger pangs from fasting. I woke with the sunrise, and brought the garbage out to the street. The weather was pleasant, so I took a walk and picked up some good garbage to draw on. I planned on drawing a street scene from my vantage point at "De Hoek" Cafe, which I'd attempted two days prior, but upon arriving, saw that the cafe was closed until 8. I used the time begore its opening to draw instead the Westerkerk Cathedral which could be clearly seem from a nearby bridge. The drawing was difficult, but I was not wholly dissatisfied with the result. When I finised the drawing, it was nearly 9. I decided instead of breaking fast at De Hoek, that I would extend the fast until I saw my beautiful friend Giulia. With this new goal, I walked across town to Henxs store, where I knew she would be working. The store didn't open for another hour, so I used some time to explore the neighborhood. I came across a market, where I bought two juice drinks and a modest boquet of flowers. I stood at the corner of the intersection where I speculated Giulia would ride by, hoping to suprise her before work with gifts, but the time when I expected her came and went. I walked back to the store. I knew it would be open at that point, perhaps she had taken another route to work that morning. When I arrived at the shop, I was informed that Giulia had gotten the shift covered by a friend in order to travel to London. I walked home, and called Giulia to confirm. Indeed, she had booked her flight the night before and was due at the airport shortly to get on a plane. By this pointm, my fast had gone for 48 hours. I thought I could meet her at the airport, it was after all a matter of life or death. But instead I acknowledged her holiday and wished her safe travels. I sat by a window, broke fast with one of the bottles of juice, and prepared a vase for the flowers. The church bells of the Westerkerk sang out as I finished the bottle of juice and the sun poured in through the open window with a wintery clarity. I thought to myself, surely this is a magical place. 

I finished the Siddhartha book and made a few drawings in my sketchbook in the early afternoon. Afterwards, I went to the gallery downstairs and helped Josine wrap paintings with packing materials. She will have to clear out all of her collection shortly, after being in business for 20 years. 

The evening was spent preparing belongings for the road. I shipped a couple boxes back to the states filled with books and small paintings. I will soon be on the road, lean.