Much to their own chagrin, hardware stores hadn’t been invented yet in the Neolithic age. And so, these ‘simple people’ were forced to make their own tools. Which they did with a creativity and skill we can still learn from.
Like so many children, I too wanted to have my own Money Bin filled with pretty coins. (I also fantasized about owning a personal library and hidden weapon compartments around the house… but that’s a different story)
Christmas and New Year’s eve turned out to be the most wonderful time of the year for my lungs to act up again. In a vehement attempt to emigrate without me, I spend most of my time in bed.
Behold! A miracle! I have faced my fears and vanquished the demon that has haunted my waking world. Or, to translate in modern English: “I fixed the technical problem I was struggling with last time.”
Shopping! A girl’s favorite pastime. Losing time while you’re wandering through the aisles. Then locking eyes with a Metalkraft BTS 51 stationary belt-sander and thinking: “Oof baby, wanna come home with me?”
Art-dolls were a new phenomenon for the Dutch Chamber of Commerce in 2012. I had come to register my new company. Unfortunately, the employee at the desk couldn’t find the right category for my business. These dolls weren’t meant for kids.
In art school, me and my fellow students were told to always take a different route to school. My brain jumped with joy at the mention of this vital survival tip. Because: YES! You never know if someone is out to get you.
With the arrival of AI-generated art, we’ve become witness to truly horrific accidents. Unfortunate souls whose eyes have fused with their headwear. Thumbs that jab straight through the palm of the hand and middle fingers that bend backwards into a perfect circle.
My country is now host to the world’s first gallery for AI art. Isn’t that a marvelous feat? It’s situated in Amsterdam. Of course. And you can find it at the Dead End Gallery. Which I find an ironic if apt name.
Being an artist also means having to visit expositions, art fairs and galleries. I know, my life truly is a vale of tears where curiosity and wonder hold hands as they hop-step-twirl over the carcass of desperate monotony. It’s a miracle I’ve survived this long.