November 2005 Archives

Peter Vos created an overfamous card game. Overfamous in Holland that is. 1970. Very hard to explain this in English. About the shit-trush, the weird-frog, the room-elephant, the listen-finch, and the keyboard-lion*. Very ponderous translations of very poetic names, sorry. I can't find a picture of a reasonable size, I'll ask Willem tomorrow, he must have a copy. Picture above is a lithography that has nothing to do with the card game. My brother bought me the card game for my birthday. But my stepmother didn't like it, and took it away from me. She didn't hide it very well though, and whenever she wasn't at home, I went to the big china cabinet in the living room and stared at the pictures. Those days of controversy are not gone. Two weeks ago indignation went through Holland because of the domino-sparrow**. Again, a ponderous translation of a poetic name. A sparrow was shot, because flapping about, it threatened to ruin an attempt on the domino world record. Questions in parliament. This week's indignation is about bouncing-chicks***. Again, a ponderous etc. An award winning artschool graduate made a video of dead chicks. She bought them dead and frozen in a petshop, where they were being sold as feed. She put bouncing balls inside them and had them bounce on video. I think they look extremely funny, like cartoon characters. But the poor artist. Her website was found by some overpopular vulgar weblog, and she has been swamped with hate mail. I found out about this through an illustrators mailinglist I subscribe to. Even there, indignation. The big condemnation of all art tout court. All of these people would have taken away Peter Vos his "beestenkwartet" from their little girls, no doubt about it.

*Schijtlijster, mafkikker, kamerolifant, luistervink, klavierleeuw.
**Dominomus.
***Stuiterkuiken.

Been doing insurance stuff for two days straight, I'm exhausted. I hate paperwork. But I can report having received the most political correct remark ever. The ohip counter clerk. Wanted to know whether Piffin was my spouse.
Above is another part of my series. I managed it between all the frantic.

The classical chatbox I told you about has been postponed. Which is not a bad thing at all, it gives me more time to simmer.

Left Art Seiden (1953), right Mary Blair (1949).

I am starting a big NRC editorial for next week. About a classical music chatbox. The Geertgen tot Sint Jans painting popped into my head, it's a virtual space surrounded by musicians, maybe I can do something with that idea. I am quite sure I have a book with this painting in it somewhere. How many books with fifteenth century painting in them can a person have? I could not find the blasted painting. And all that time, it had been one click away.

The drawing by Franciszka Themerson is extra. I added it because of the similar composition. Franciszka could draw music like nobody else.

My friend Max launched a new website today. I promised him some promotion. For what it's worth. Max is a winter specialist, he writes books about snow and ice. On his new website he showcases his collection of children's books on skating. Don't let this fool you. Not all Dutch children can skate, not me anyway. No romantic scenes like the one above. Which turned into something of a leitmotiv in all of my romantic relationships. Every single boyfriend I ever had -except maybe one or two that occurred in the wrong season- swore he could teach me to skate. But they all failed. Michiel has given up on it a long time ago. I have weird motor skills. My gross motor skills are catastrophic, my kids made me promise never to run in public. My fine motor skills are the opposite, anything from knitting or crocheting, from sewing to embroidering, from drawing to painting, from moulding to sculpting, from cooking to vacuuming, come to me, come to me.

Parental advice about upbringing not being the same as training a doggie. Woof. I think I was trained rather than brought up. Keep your mouth shut unless you're asked something! Children are silent when grown-ups speak! Speak with two words! (that one might be too Dutch) Stand straight! Sit up straight! Ellbows off the table! Hand over your mouth! Eat your dish empty! (too good to translate properly) Finger out of your nose!
What were you told?

I posted all these great diaries yesterday, and somehow I felt pressured to show one by myself. I am a very lousy diary person, I did have them, and I even hold on to them to this day, but they're all empty after ten or twenty pages, some not even that much. Not very interesting either, the average embarrassing ramblings about boyfriends. The sentence above is of a later date, I was post-boyfriends, starting to make sence. It reads: "Piffin's first drawing! She saw that the line was coming out of the marker and went crazy!" She was nine months and six days. I should have written more.
I found another interesting one, but I can't show it. In it are notes by Michiel and myself. We were part of a student committee, co-deciding whether applying students were to be admitted to our artschool. All those names are still in this little black book, hilarious! One guy wanted to study photography. We wrote: "not nearly enough work. doesn't print anything himself. negative." I googled him, very fancy website, very succesful photographer. Ouch.

Way way back, when people still knew how to hold a pen, they had different weblogs. Browse through the letters below, I hope you have Firefox, so you can throw them all in tabs. Some of them you may know, even from other weblogs. Some are really famous, and all are really beautiful.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z ? & $

Yay, the snow is here! Not quite enough to get the toboggan out of the basement, but well begun is half done. On another note, the editor told me today that my kid's column's illustrations are to be seen online every week, every monday a new one. I didn't even know that.

She is the mother of Dutch illustration, so I am not going to be so silly as to introduce her. On the website where I found this lovely picture (I think I have a much more comfortable chair) you can see some different versions she did of the same illustrations. Years apart, interesting to see how her style developed. You don't have to read Dutch, just look at the pictures. Wim Bijmoer is featured on the same page, which makes it even more interesting. Bijmoer illustrated "the sheep Veronica", bij Annie MG Schmidt. Which Fiep did later. And Wim did not appreciate the likeness her sheep bore with his. I wrote about this before.
I did work today, in case you're wondering. The weekly column about kid's stuff.

The cover of the translated half blood prince (coming out in Holland this week) was supposed to be printed with the article, but the publisher didn't send the image in time. Hence this rush job. Excellent for practicing skills, but I can so imagine how much better this drawing could have been with more time. That broken third finger for example.

One day off, I had one day off yesterday. Lovely, I stripped a door. Today a rush job. And just as I was drawing his glasses, Josephson called that my new pair is ready to be picked up. Shit. Oh well, I'll be working late anyway. Have to have this one coloured by noon tomorrow.

Letters to the editor. You see, it's not just any articles I illustrate, it's articles that kick up dust. The second letter complains about an image of a coach -printed underneath the article- from the wrong era, but I had nothing to do with that image. They could have asked me, I research such things. I even researched the cows in my image, they were there, time and place.
I share the page with Kamagurka, I like that very very much, although I don't get the gag today. Kamagurka is a toptoptop cartoonist from Belgium, who also does tv and theatre shows. He's a great singer. I went to two of his shows, they are so weird and brilliant that it almost becomes embarrassing to be part of the audience. Kamagurka is a master in pushing things to the edge, over the edge. Pushing things to where you're not sure where the edge is.

I'm DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE !

Tomorrow the last one. If I get that done, The Book Will Be Ready! At last, I can't believe it. One more though. I'm afraid I'll need six weeks of fysiotherapy, just like after Tim. I am growing roots in my chair here.

My weekly parental advice column. This time about Baby Donna. Her Dutch parents bought her from a Belgian surrogate mother. Highly illegal in Holland. Baby Donna has become a media star. The writer of the column hopes the judge will rule for her to be put up for adoption in Australia.

I am not speaking to you anymore. Nobody sends me their favourite song. Except for my own husband. And except for Lex who sent me an mp3. Oh, and Jan, I almost forget Jan. Don't you people like my music? I am listening to Chet Baker right now. And I recommend this, you only have to tell them what kind of cell phone you use. I lied, because I don't have one at all. And that was not an option. (Too much green in the drawing, I'll see to that tomorrow) --> Done.

Maybe I'll add something tonight, but right now I can't think of anything interesting to write. I can hardly find the keys on the keyboard, I've drawn myself blind, and besides that, I have to cook dinner now.

Okay, I'll write some more, 9 PM, peace and quiet. I just voted my favourite songs in the top 2000 of the Dutch radio. Not that I am fanatical about things like that, but every single year Bohemian Rapsody is number 1, so maybe some people with taste -like myself- should take action. I just wanted to vote on Forever Young (which wasn't even on the list) but it turned out I was supposed to vote on three to ten songs. O my. So I clicked here and clicked there. From Maggie Mae to Heart of Gold. And then I had to explain my number one. I hadn't even realised the song at the top of my list was going to be my number one. But allright, that was Smells like Teen Spirit. Easy one to explain. I saw Nirvana perform in Stuttgart, 1991. They were Sonic Youth's support act. And I had played one Sonic Youth song approximately three hundred times while giving birth. Great contraction music, Sonic Youth. So I had to see them when they came to Stuttgart. I had never even heard of Nirvana. And they sucked, to be honest. And the Longhorn was outrageously dangerously overcrowded. And I was wearing white shoes. But I can say I have seen Kurt Cobain. I am forever young.

What's your number one?

Not bad, not bad. Even if I say so myself. If you don't tickle yourself, you will never laugh, that's what my father always used to say. A very Voltairian thing to say really, come to think of it. Here's a bigger version of the drawing.

One spread, two single pages to go.

This is all very quiet and silent and lonely work. So I listen to the radio. I've always done that. VPRO radio. Years ago, in my studio in Rotterdam, I knew exactly when they broadcasted, which days, which frequencies, and at what time. Nowadays they have something called horizontal programming. Every day the same. Lovely. And because of the time difference, I can listen to De Avonden (The Evenings, after Holland's most famous novel) every single afternoon. Although lately I usually Skype with Willem while working. So my work is not even lonely anymore. Exorcising the meaninglessness of our existences together :-)

From one extreme to another. Yesterday a fully finished shiny end product, today the pity start. A bicycle race, oh my. I don't even dare show the whole sketch, it's hard. I am going to beg Michiel for some Maya help. Nine bicycles, audience, one girl (recognizable) in the lead and the finish in the distance. Give me Voltaire anytime.

Done before five, I love it. I just come from the supermarket, where I went while in my famous overstimulated visual state. The world looks so different after hours of concentrated drawing. I saw this incredibly good looking young guy, wow. I gazed him right in his face, and guess what, he gazed back. I just had to have a good look at him. That's one of the few advantages of being a middle-aged woman, people don't think anything of it, if you do such a thing.