The diary of a Scot in Amsterdam

I feel like I have really been led a merry dance today, on a search for something apparently quite simple but in reality sadly not at all so.

For a bank account that my mother is setting up back home, it has proved to be necessary to obtain a copy of my passport, signed as being a true likeness of me by someone in a position of some responsibility. This could be for example a bank clerk, policeman, etc.

I had made a copy of the appropriate page (the one with the photo on it, obviously), and had even written out the bit “I declare this to be a true likeness…” etc. so as to save time. I had hoped to get this done at the post office and sent off there and then.

It was then a bit disappointing when I was told that they do not do this sort of thing. “Maybe at a larger branch,” the assistant said, without much conviction. I decided instead to go to a police station and try my luck there.

The policeman whom I spoke to listened politely to my request before telling me that no, it couldn’t be done. His explanation revolved around the problem that I could be giving him a false passport to certify as genuine; in which case, it is a pretty worthless form of identification if it cannot be trusted in this way. Further to this, he informed me that it is actually illegal to make photocopies of passports, even your own; apparently the same rule goes for money (for slightly more obvious reasons). Was he going to arrest me, I wondered? Thankfully not.

At this point I was giving up hope, when he informed me that I could perhaps try at the British Consulate, since they were quite close by. I have had difficult dealings with them before and so was not filled with enthusiasm at this suggestion, but there did not seem to be any other option.

My suspicions proved to be correct when I arrived in front of the consulate, to be told before I even got off my bike that I was not allowed to park it anywhere near the building and should instead find a place for it elsewhere. Evidently they are concerned about a wave of bike-bombs or something. When I was eventually let near the front door, I was made to be X-rayed airport style and give up my mobile phone, before being sent through some locked doors and into a waiting area. Much to my relief, the woman behind the armoured glass service window informed me that it could be done, except that for the trouble they would need to charge me €21. Result, one very expensive and time-consuming photocopy indeed.

Another week at the DAI comes to an end. I had some useful feedback on my carpet film, and we had a really interesting session on Wednesday; this involved everyone in the DAI Private group (that’s those of us who are more studio-based than public space-based) showing one piece of work, without commentary, and letting everyone else give their comments on it. This was useful from the point of view of being the one doing the commenting, since it really forced you to think and to form articulate observations, but also to get some feedback from other students on my own work. I must say that I felt this to be more useful than the one-to-one studio visits which we have every week from “expert” artists, curators, etc.

Listening to comments from your peers, from other people dealing with the same problems and questions and at more or less the same stage of their careers, provided a lot of very relevant feedback, and some sharper insights than I have come to expect from more established artists.

Further to this, I was very pleased because I had chosen to show a series of small concrete pyramids which I have been working on (example below), and I had generally good feedback on these. What was particularly encouraging was to have positive comments about something which was absolutely not made using the computer or indeed any other kind of electronic technology, since it can seem sometimes that I am tied to my desk and my laptop. In fact, here I am now, typing away. Time to go and do something else!

I am still busy with my carpet film, and was today back on the beach at Camperduin, this now being at least my fifth visit. Thank heavens for my OV-kaart, otherwise this would be turning out to be quite an expensive business.

The problem is getting weather and waves that are just right, and which will fit in with what has been filmed up to this point. Once again, I was not 100% satisfied with what we recorded, but it is certainly an improvement on what I have already. I would like to be able to show something which is nearly finished at the DAI next week, and so there has come to be a bit of urgency about things.

It was Astrid’s birthday today. I realise that she has been mentioned quite often in passing here, without my explaining who she is. Astrid has been my girlfriend for about the last 7-8 months or so. She is lovely.

She is also a bit camera shy, so there are not too many pictures of her on HFTD. In any case, this website is primarily about my own experiences; I feel a little uncomfortable about writing things about those around me, who have of course not consented to take part in this project and could probably do without details of their lives being published on the internet for all to see. Therefore, if what is written here seems very self-centred, that’s because it is.

Back to the point, which is that we had decided to do something nice today. Specifically, it had seemed like a good idea to get out of the city for a bit. To this end, we took a train to Amersfoort; that it is not the most exciting place is putting it kindly, but from there we could go walking in the countryside.

Now, you cannot just “go walking” in the Netherlands as can be done in Scotland. Every square metre of this country appears to have been zoned for something or other, and this means that if you wish to see some countryside you must stick to the paths provided for this purpose. All over the place are signs reading verboden toegang (no admittance), and you are never so very far from a motorway or industrial estate. Still, what there is is indeed pretty in its own way, and I certainly enjoyed our little trip today.

After four hours of walking we were pretty cold and tired, and stopped for something to eat in Amersfoort before heading back to Amsterdam, and another active, sporty activity… swimming!

Yes, we thought that it would be nice to go for a swim, and did so in the Zuiderbad. This is a lovely old swimming pool next to the Rijksmuseum, with a huge pitched roof with roof-lights which reminds me a lot of the pool I used to visit nearly every day when I worked in Edinburgh. I feel quite bad that I have fallen out of this habit since living in Holland, but I certainly felt like I would not mind at all coming back here again in the future.

Later on, we had dinner in an Italian restaurant near to my house. Not the most amazing place, in my opinion, but there was something worth my explaining it here…

It consisted of a large (about 50cm wide) round cheese cut in half lengthwise on a trolley, which would be wheeled up to the table of the lucky person who had ordered the particular dish for which it was needed. The waiter would then, with much theatrics, pour some kind of flammable liquid onto it, set it alight, and swirl it round with a ladle until there was a pool of melted cheese on top of the big solid round cheese. Into this he would throw some sort of mixture of pasta and vegetables/meat/whatever, which would in turn be mixed around and finally ladled out onto a plate. A very roundabout way of making a cheese sauce, but fascinating to watch and no doubt delicious too; how unfortunate that I had already ordered.

Here it is; sometimes a very bad drawing is worth a whole page of the most articulate text.

Sometimes things happen which really make me aware that this is quite a special place. I had been working last night in the Sláinte, which has incidentally changed owners without my knowing; the previous Chinese owners have handed over to a relative, with whom it should be a little easier to communicate; she speaks both English and Dutch, unlike her predecessor who knows only Chinese.

Having worked until 1am, I had a couple of beers and went to fetch my bike, which was leaning against the wall of “Dirty Dick’s”, a gay club on the other side of the Warmoesstraat. You can be quite easily fined €20 for not having a light on your bike, and since the government have recently announced a crackdown on this, I set about attaching my little plastic L.E.D. light to the front of my light. Before I could do so, it fell from my hands to the ground and broke apart into several pieces.

“‘Dat’s a broken light,” said one of two burly gentlemen standing next to me, stating the obvious. Ignoring this, I set about trying to and eventually succeeding in re-assembling the worthless shitty plastic lamp, while in my left ear I there came a slurping sound as the two guys started kissing. Me on my hands and knees looking for batteries in the dark, while oblivious to my presence a tender moment of man-on-man intimacy took place.

Bicycle repairs, leather-clad loving, and Chinese/Irish pubs. Nothing else like Amsterdam!

As mentioned some time ago, I have been working on plans for a short film based on me seeming to run from Amsterdam across the countryside and to the sea, carrying a roll of carpet under each arm. These I will then throw into the sea. It’s a kind of allegory, with the carpets representing the past, worries, guilt, memories, and so on.

I finally got around to starting with filming this week; Julien kindly helped me on Wednesday, and Astrid on Thursday and Friday. Well, I can tell you, it has been exhausting work. These damn things are heavy! Not only that, but I have been using some old mustard-yellow carpet which I found on the street, perfect in colour, but it stinks. It smells like a incontinent dog died on it, and it transfers this awful stench to whatever it touches, too. So in a sense, it would indeed be a relief to throw them into the sea, except that for reasons of environmental responsibility I intend fishing them back out again (off camera).

The first day of filming took place in the area around where I live in Amsterdam; along streets, beside canals, over bridges, and even on the on-ramp of the motorway. I was quite nervous about the last of these, since apart from all the speeding cars, I had the idea that we would be arrested on the spot if the police were to pass. Passed without a hitch, though.

Thursday involved more filming, most of it on the beach at Camperduin on the Noord-Holland coast. I had picked this location after finding some piers that stick out into the sea on Google Maps (see above), which I thought would be great for running to the end of and very dramatically throwing the carpets.

This was all very well in theory, but it wasn’t so easy as I had hoped. For a start, it was impossible to really throw the carpets far enough so that they would really be in deep water. Furthermore, once they were wet they became too heavy to move any more, and in any case were dripping foul stinking brown water everywhere, which would look a bit strange on the second take, since at this point of the story they should still have been dry. The only thing to do was to unroll them and leave them to dry, and return again on Friday for another go. This in turn was still not great, and I will need to come back next week.

All in all, it is looking like being a lot longer and more complicated to realise than I could have imagined, but then that is almost always the case with my projects. The problem of course when filming outdoors is that there are so many variables over which you have no control whatsoever; the weather, the sea, curious passers-by honking their horns and asking questions at exactly the wrong moment, and so on.

As a sneak preview of the final result, here is a little video clip…