During secondary school every pupil needed to follow art lessons. I made a drawing of a ship. I don’t know why, it was forty years ago. The ship was far too big for the sea. The teacher told me so but I wanted to fill the paper properly.
I am sitting, as we speak, as a suppoost of my own exhibition, a very quiet Saturday afternoon. It's warm but not the kind of warmth that makes you longing for the beach, like a Mallorca beach, all sweaty with sand and little insects everywhere on your body where you do not want them. A lady in doubt walked in, as if she was not sure she wanted to visit this exhibition. I told her politely that in case of any questions I was there for her. She asked me if I was Lorenzo, a person she knew forty years ago. I didn’t know of course, forty years is such a long time for remembering. So I said no. She walked around anyway, watching the wrong paintings.
I must admit that it is very nice to be an amateur because no one expects you to make really good, really professional things, let ‘s say art. That is one thing. There are more things. I need to think about it. Concentrate on a place to be, concentrate on a, maybe, far too large ship ( de Vliegende Hollander!), with a frantic mosquito living on it.
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