My life as an amateur. Part 36.

 There is this sparrow in the sweet cherry tree imitating other birds and my daughter calling the dog. Such a clever bird. I took a picture of it but it sat high in the tree, singing along all the beautiful songs of the other ones. On the bench beneath I am trying to do my best.

Last week, I do not recall which day, I met a friend. He likes mirrors. So whenever he makes an installation he uses mirrors. He told me about that. Actually, I never liked the sight of a mirror, but now I am going to use one in a tiny installation. It will reflect a white mountain of paint. I am an imitator. My daughter is making a film of a hoverfly, they don’t sting. That is great. She gave me permission to use the film for the film ‘My life as an amateur’. It might be as nice as the film about the lamellen, if this word even exists in English. Let's talk about imperfection. We have this tiny sink in our tiny garden house and when I wanted to wash my hands after removing some asbest plates from the earth there was this sorrowful fat little spider with its legs curled under, or over, I do not know a thing about the physics of spiders, its body. I waited some seconds before turning the tap on and when it was still in the same place I removed it gently with my bare hands to the earth of our garden. Not the safest place I must admit, imperfect it is. Above the tiny sink is a tiny mirror, I gave it a gentle smile. At least that was what I saw, it still stays an imitation.

My life as an amateur. Part 35.

 Today I will tell a sad story about an older lady. 

When I was little, probably around the age of eight, I asked my mother what kind of music soul music was. She told me that it was the kind of music I like. She told me what I liked as a definition of soul music.

So I saw this lady in sneakers. Always this lady in sneakers, I say, and always faintly smiling, I say, more or less. Just to be sure, I suppose, that absolutely no one would ever see her with a grim look on her face.

She looks a little bit familiar. I must say. It has something to do with butterflies. And that I just decided that money is not everything. Money is never enough, so I prefer reading, as I saw a nice gentleman today with a linen bag with the words: Read! As if this is your last day.

Read until I know what art I need to steal. Read until I know how to title my last three works. Read until I know what is important. I am sitting in the late sun. Someone needs to answer the phone.

The mountain is occupied by pieridae. She is wearing shorts too.

My life as an amateur. Part 34.

Last week, or two or three weeks ago, someone told me that she thought one of my stories was sad. So now I am going to tell you a very humoristic story. I like to dive into other people's lives, to learn how to do the things, the thinking, the talking.

In those ancient times, when I was managing a gallery, I met this artist. He was exploding with ideas. I liked them. These ideas are like flies, or mosquitos if you like them better. And the winner is… walking through the city and grabbing a book from a little library, go find a bench and read till you have enough ( or not ) , and continue walking and drop the book in the next little library ( or take it home) and grab another book. I want to adopt this idea but I am not sure I will be a thief. If I do. 

Making things unruly.

It is easy, just walk into the studio and smear the paint on the panel or the linen, over and over again. And don’t stop till it is there.

Today I did a really good thing. I was walking the dog and my left eye saw a bicycle left unlocked, the keys were actually there. I rang the doorbell of the nearest door and after five minutes a barefooted woman opened the door and slapped her hand to the mouth. She had been so busy with her shoppings and all. Yes. You can do that.

The day before yesterday I finished a painting on a panel with black, blue and a marsblack square. I texted my sister that I would like to go to Rotterdam with her, having a nice day. I haven’t seen her for three years. Yes, I think so. I find it hard to talk to her boyfriend who is very right winged, his arguments are Trumpian. I always  lose, I fall quiet. After that I made a film called ‘Dancing Trees’, a film about trees in the wind, and a film ‘Volgende Station, ja’. The last mentioned is nice because you can hear someone saying ‘ja’ several times while driving in the subway. I am not sure anyone will notice this, but that’s ok. I would like to be one with a piece of art every moment of the day. Maybe that is not very professional, living a life like that, like a giant Bumblebee hovering under the cherry tree never stops being its very own Bumblebee. Yes. Exploding.