My eyes in a pro tem mood

Amsterdam, 30 sept. 2012.

The railway station is always a great place for people watching, international train passengers waiting for delayed departures shuffling up and down on wooden benches impatiently, heaps of luggage like overstuffed suitcases and heavy looking backpacks reminding me of my frequent Interrail trips in my younger days...

I could never be bothered about delays and mistimed departures, my sketchbooks and pencils, colored markers and aquarels happy to come in handy, hunderts of fellow travellers would appear on the pages of my scrapbooks while waiting for trains that would somehow or someways show up eventually...

Train stations are still my favorite places now in my older days when I feel bored to the max in my old crappy house here in Amsterdam West, my new leather coat falling off my slender frame, my blue striped bag, once a gift from Charlotte's mother in happier days together and by now so old the gaps seem to appear like miracles in its ancient fabric, filled to overflow with my artist's necessities, my crappy old bike downstairs in the street awaiting me to get me to that international waiting hall...

My eyes are in a pro tem mood, scanning each and every face, trying to creep into the minds of my unaware models...what is it that moves them, made them choose good old Mokum as a tourist destination, the destinies of their collective lives, where are they going next, what are they thinking about while waiting for yet another european city???

A hooded middle aged lady with a strong american accent wanting to know what I am drawing...it was her as a matter of fact.

An occupational suicide

Amsterdam, 26 Sept. 2012.

feels a bit like there are cleansing rites of passage running amok inside my brainhouse department, thoughts going down memory lane, vividly remembering my last couple of nights of passion with Michella though a more intimate domestic arrangement is out of the question as I made it clear the last dreaded morning after...

A bottle of Spar house wine, color red in my hand, waiting patiently in the queue while my thoughts go down the aforementioned memory lane, not a bad way to while away the enevitable line of working stiffs coming out of the office and desperate to get home at this advanced hour of the afternoon. or is 18.45 h. considered the early hours of the evening...

The frontiers of passion that were there for us to penetrade, have as always in my life been terminated with extreme prejuidice....

An occupational suicide in my existence I guess!!!     

Michella in caricature.

                                                         Amsterdam, 26 Sept. 2012.

I guess her dingy illegally and overprised rented attic room in the Elisabeth Wolff street, not even all that far away from my spacious totally renovated and government rent supported appartment in the Spaarnd. street, has got walls claustrofobically zooming in on her, when I find her in front of my door, soaked by the autumn rains pestering the Dutch capital, her umbrella blown to pieces by the strong western wind that is a prelude to a, no doubt, heavy storm hitting Amsterdam come nightfall...

A bottle of Merlot probably ensuring her confidence I won't leave her in the street, alone and disappointed like when I left her and her tupid little attic room early last sunday morning...

Never sure what to do with situations like this...it was, after, all just two lonely souls meeting in a dark brown Amsterdam cafe, no attachments or promises but a single night of passion Y Nada Mas...

I made this caricature of her, belittling her true beauty as a caricature drawing always does!!!

   

Prelude to oblivion

Amsterdam, 24 Sept. 2012.

Most times I feel like the mad scribbling of my chaotic mind are a prelude to oblivion, or maybe publishing them on the sacred internet like a digital blasphemy but still the sort of stuff I tell the ladies downtown when I am hunting for nighttime partners to keep the demons at bay and a warm female body in my bed, something to snuggle up to upon waking....

Strangers in the night meeting somewhere in a dark brown Amsterdam cafe, feeling the same sort of loniness and physical longing, a bit like inter gender based search collectives, never been to the husbands, wives, children sort of routine so familiar for many working stiff's unadventureous type of life...

Or maybe the other way around...

With good old Mokum full with singles, every nationality of the world living in small and dingy illegally rented overprised rooms, the height of the rent just as illegal as the occupant, a lady like Michella who works as a dishwasher  and Mhe Baan room cleaning lady in a certain well known hotel not all that far from the central railway staion and is desperately looking for a Holland man to take care of the paperwork, five years of devoted marital bliss in exchange of a legal status...

I can hear it in her voice, I can detect it in her mannerism, sense it overwhelmingly in her dark black shiners when she looks me in the eyes, prepared to invest in a 2.80 Euro glass of red wine to keep my attention focused...

The adults only game is indeed a game with both sides wanting something important from the other but who is getting what remains the question...

Getting Michella on the back of my rusty old bike might well be a prelude to the oblivion of my singel state of life, or maybe just company for the lonely night and a new model in the morning...   

Space art; volcanic eruption

On being a benign god

Amsterdam, 19 Sept. 2012.

Can Allah be supremely indifferent to the lakeys of his number one profet killing ambassadors in His name, maybe the actions of a Neurotic Self being a bit more than an Ideological Appendage...

If the almighty Christian God is so powerfull why does He not make the misguided minds of his most devoted so heavy they are unable to move their hands and commit heideous crimes against those that just happen to have different views on faith...

If He is so omnipresent, never mind how man does address him, Manitoe or Allah, maybe the Christian God or Poseidon, above the matters of us mere mortal beings, way beyond the morals and ethics of us the greatest mistake of creation...

If so maybe we should continue our sorry lives instead of trying to enforce our fanatic religious views on our fellow brothers and sisters, discontinue killing in His name...

Leave the matters of God to Him...or was it Her??? 

Space art, black hole

What cancer cannot do...

Cancer is so limited...

It cannot cripple love.

It cannot shatter hope.

It cannot corrode faith.

It cannot eat away peace.

It cannot destroy confidence.

It cannot kill friendship.

It cannot shut out memories.

It cannot silence courage.

It cannot reduce eternal life.

It cannot quench the Spirit

( by unknown author).

Space art, strange alien structures in the night

A misguided inniciative to live a loser's life

Amsterdam, 15 Sept. 2012.

The buyers hang back, a few furtive glances, maybe a cold stare, El Senoyor Mucho El Dopo desperately turning away from me while I walk by, old battered suitcase as usual tied to the back of my ATB, hoping in vain I won't rat on him to the city's finest...

I am a familiar face here on Westermarkt, just around the corner from good old Mokum's munber one tourist hotspot, the Anne Frank House where, by now autimun approaching, I have once again spent all summer making and selling my treasured Mandalas...

A fair and honset trade compared to those fleas of the street, microscopic particles whose only God is their sacred addiction and the money they need to get their dirty hands, stained fingernails and all that, on it...

A misguided inniciative to live a loser's life!!!

Space art, stairway to the sky

Space art for sale, 20 US dollar, shipping worldwide.

Info; senor_4@yahoo.com

A highly sofisticated mode of propaganda

                                                           Amsterdam, 13 Sept. 2012.

I guess withe the end of the Dutch voting days over I can come out of my self choosen isolation, having emerged myself fully in my latest art project, creating space art while surrounded by spray cans and high gloss paper, trying hard to igore lying politicians dressed in 800 Eoro Armani suits, whose private drivers waiting outside Dutch TV studios next to taxpayer provided four doors Mercedesses - brand new of course - expensive lunches washed won by a good vintage french red wine - a lot better for your palate as the table wine I usually drink -  while discussing a solutions to Eurpean financial wooes...

A highly sofisticated mode of propaganda was in full swing for power hungry nutters while I was surrounded by spray can fumes that are rumoured to be toxic...

Oh yeah, before I forget, the Liberals and Labour won...lets hope they won't make to much of a mess out of what alreadsy is a garbage belt!!!

Space art, weird planetary rings

Space art for sale,

20 US dollar, including shipping world wide.

Info; senor_4@yahoo.com

Space art, playing whales

Space art, alien temple

Space art, Night over an alien table land

Space art, green planet in the sky

Space art,Space seen from the cave

Space art, blue moon over the forest

Working on space art

                                                    Amsterdam, 05 Sept. 2012.
 Not the first time I work on space art, selling them in the street here in Amsterdam, and a small art shop in Leiden...

 At that time I lived in a small chicken house sort of room with not much space...things have changed for the better, more space and more Soldi, access to the internet so I can learn more techniques using the fabulous search engine called Google...

Now I just have to start selling the stuff, maybe the most difficult part!!!

Maggie from Buriram

Amsterdam, 03 Sept. 2012.

"I am going to destroy that bastart", Maggie tells me confidently and with a coy smile while she slowly sips from her pint of Heineken, a certain evil degree of satisfaction in her Thai accented english which by the way is much better as that of her Isan contemporaries back in that male paradise called Pattaya...

"I gonna take all his assets, plunder his saving account and make him pay a monthly alimony and force him to fly halfway across the globe to visit his kids...

"I win becuase he is an asshole but a rich one"...

Maggie is actually on her way back to her native Thailand but with a three day stop-over in Amsterdam after living in California for the last five years, divorced from her American Tilac who, she is convinced, will have to support her newly found rich life style into eternity...

I picked her up today from that endlessly long line outside the Anne Frank House, inviting her for a beer in Cafe Prinsen just around the corner from Amsterdam's number one tourist itinary and secretly hoping I had found myself a new model...