You would think we would have learned our lesson

No, I didn't loose my passport again.

But we had another party in the studio space in honor of the artist that replaced me, Laura Toots' last night (she's a photographer from Estonia).

There was a watermelon, and a sword, and then a very sticky floor.

And there was dancing and watermelon mush with vodka, because the wine was all gone.

And once again, a group of boys wanted to join in the fun, three boys from Leeds to be exact...only this time there were 6 of us to witness it instead of just me and Claudio...and yes, I'm not the only one with pictures.

This place is crazy. I'm going to miss it something fierce.

the funnier side of Utrecht, since the other one was actual tourist garbage

I'm not making this up at all, the sign's the proof...Psalm Karaoke at Dom Kerk. Do you have any idea how much holy wine you'd have to drink to kneel down and start signing along?


For all my architect friends who have a soft spot in their heart for amazing Dutch Design...

tourist days

So now that I don't have to sit around and actually make art anymore I figured some day trips were in order. Ones that involved a little less drinking then Ghent. So I hopped the train with Leisl's little sister in tow and we went to Utrecht. At first I'll be honest, the train station is ugly and to get outside you have to walk through a mall (which is weird- giant train station, Macy's two great ideas that belong together after all these years). But on the other side of the industrial weirdness that is transportation hub and consumer paradise, is the Utrecht you imagine. Only I had no idea what to imagine.

It's beautiful, just like Amsterdam, only cleaner, and different...if you took Amsterdam and rolled it up with the smaller buildings in Ghent, and then filled all the first floor shops with designers and high end furniture, and then made the canals gorgeous (they're below street level and lined with cafes and trees), and took away all the drunk tourists, you'd have Utrecht.

They still use their churches as churches, although they've been drastically altered from the Reformation and the ousting of the Spanish, and then there was apparently a crazy tornado that destroyed a couple of the churches forever ago (but that sign was in Dutch and I could be making it all up). Me and Olivia spent hours at the Universiteitsmuseum (say that three times fast), which although it's mostly geared towards kids learning about science and stuff, there's a room of medical samples and dental tools from the 17th century...oh yeah, awesome. And then they have the most amazing botanical garden, which we spent hours in, stealing wild raspberries and petting the bees.

Over all, a beautiful day. I hear there's art and stuff there to see too, but who needs art when there are medical maladies in jars?




On August 16th you can come in and have a picture of your baby taken on this lilly pad. For real.

oh yeah, i went to Belgium...

I even took a couple pictures.

Everyone this is Ghent, Ghent this is all of my friends,

Ghent is like a medievil Baltimore. Filled with crazy people, cheap beer, and awesome music. Or at least that's what i hear. I was only there for 24 hours for the Ghent Festival, but it rained, instead we just got very, very drunk.

But that's what you do in Ghent.

where i've been living

For all of you that just can't stand not knowing what the amazing house that I've been sharing with Claudio and Niki (and now a photographer from Estonia names Laura) looks like, here you go!

Oudekerksplein 4

The windows downstairs are drawn (sorry guys) but that's where the studio space is, and the windows that say "You are beautiful" is my old room...or I guess I should just say is the Artist in Residence's room.

Thuis zuet thuis.

things we don't have in America

I saw a bumble bee! OK, I saw a bunch of bumble bees and then I walked away because I'm not a big fan of bees.

But I took a picture of one- so no more complaining about how I haven't taken any pictures if anything! Anyway, when was the last time you saw one? Um, maybe 1989 or so...they still have bunches in the Netherlands. Not so much in the UK anymore, and in the states we're loosing bees faster than we can bring home baby ones to make our moms proud. Maybe if we didn't make up children's songs about squishing them they'd still be around...

art update

Today my residency officially ended.

Not that I'm leaving.

I've become the first artist in residence to just move into one of the other intern's rooms instead of going home. Thank you, Niki!

But since I'm not required to make art anymore (although I'll probably finish the top one since I technically don't have anything else to do), I thought you all might like to see what I've actually done. That is besides eat bitterballen, drink beer, and wonder the canals...

O-M-G!!!!!

So not only have the Dutch perfected transforming skinny little fairies into liquid frying gold, but that have also invented the most amazing thing in the world to cook in said gold...

Let me introduce you to bitterballen.

Oh yes, these were a gift from the gods directly to the Dutch (and we thought ambrosia was a jello salad). Get this- bitterballen are deep fried balls of gravy. That's right, gravy. The best part of Thanksgiving magically rolled into a ball and rendered crispy by their wonderful, wonderful vats of pure love. You thought I wasn't coming home because I liked the people and architecture and culture, oh no, I'm not coming home because of bitterballen.

i really didn't make it all up

Yesterday I met a friend of Leisl's little sister, an Australian drummer (who has played with Herbie Hancock's band) named Matt traveling around Europe for the summer like so many other young men his age. Naturally we all have to tell him the story of the Danish boys from a couple of nights ago. I pull out my camera and he starts going through the pictures...and get this, he knows them. They were all roommates for the past few days at the Orange Tulip hostel. Besides their ability to consume copious amounts of alcohol in one sitting, he commentted on their outstanding farmer's tans, which my pictures don't quite do justice apparently.

Happy Birthday, Niki!

One of the people in the house I'm in had a birthday party last night, reconfirming that everyone in this country is so nice it hurts...but this is really a story of after the party.

We've been partying a little hard, so most people took the night easy and everyone had left by around 2 am, but me and Claudio (other other guy in the house) decided to stay up a little while longer and listen to some very loud music and finish the few remaining beers. Nothing special, just rocking out.

Then all of a sudden there was some knocking at the door, and outside was a group of 4 boys, all completely wasted, wanting to know what was going on in there. We laughed and explained this was where we lived and we were just listening to music, to which they asked if they could come in and listen too just for a few minutes. And with a slight shoulder lift we figured what could it hurt, and invited them in.

So far, just a little weird, but oh you just wait...we chatted a little bit...they're from Denmark, just finishing up their vacation...eventually I told one of them what I did for a living, to which they all got incredible excited and within seconds decided they wanted to pose for me. And before we could just laugh it off, me and Claudio had 3 naked men in the room, posing (one just stood silently in the corner...he never did say a word). And before you could say, "Katie, you are so making this up, nah-uh, I don't believe you" they had done their thing, gotten dressed, said their good byes, thanked us, and were out the door. And Claudio and I almost peed ourselves laughing so hard.

For real.

I have pictures.

They're great.

Friday night

I know that many of you are just sitting around, waiting for me to return so you can finally recommence with your social life. And being the amazingly understanding friend that I am, even from a quarter around the world I've got an amazing evening planned for all my closest friends and loved ones (and everybody else).

Friday night, 7 pm, at the Spread Gallery in Brooklyn (104 Meserole) is an opening of a exhibit without equal: The Love Show.

And yes, I'm in it. Because as we know, my art is all about the love.

But there will be bands, and artstars, and acrobats, and elephants, and general merrymaking, and although I'll only be there in spirit you should be there in person!

Ok, I lied about the acrobats and elephants, but not about the bands and artstars and merrymaking. So go anyway.

Because I love you all, each and every one of you.

papers?! papers?!

I'm legal again. The government has procured a hasty passport with my picture in it and everything, and it looks almost convincing. The new American passports are like taking a trip to Disney World while you travel around the real world. Every page has a different "American" image on it with an inspirational quote at the top. It covers everything from the Liberty Bell to the cowboys, and naturally New York City. With rubber raised printing of revolutionary images and bald eagles on the inside covers and holograms covering my face, it's hard to believe it's real.

I miss my old passport. It was just blue.

now i'm officially a local

I rode a bicycle to the huge Monday morning market by Noorderkerk, and then carried other people's large purchases back on my bike for them, 'cause I have the bike with a crate on the back.

I didn't die.

No other people died.

Amsterdam is way easier to ride a bike in than Brooklyn.

i forgot...passport update

Right, passport...turns out European passport pictures are smaller than our oh-so-blue counterparts. Everything really is bigger in the states. But that meant that I had to retake my photos, unprepared, early in the morning, with bad hair...and in the process I broke the machine. Because I'm really good with machines. But the repair guy was awesome, and funny, and fixed the "apartment connection failure" message lickity-split. And in the process told me all about gezzeligheid, but I wasn't really listening so I can't tell you all about it, but I'm sure you can imagine what it means...and it had nothing to do with sneezing.

Anyway, someday soon I'll have a shiny new passport. 14 months before I had to get one, but it will have a picture in it where I don't look like a terrorist, and I'll have the honor of having bad hair and a hoodie on until I'm 41. Which I'm sure I'll still be wearing anyway. And in the meantime I have so many ID photos I could get train passes and museum cards and college IDs for every major city in Western Europe...hmmm...maybe I'll do that on Monday...

to proove that I'm doing art too...

So I had to abandon the idea of doing portraits of the prostitutes, I just don't have the time I need to make good friends with them. So instead I'm doing portraits of men as they look at the girls with backgrounds that are traditional Dutch wallpapers, fabric, and tile designs from the Golden Age...so far so good I guess...

This is the organ at Nieuwe Kerk, it's amazing. The Dutch turned all of the Catholic Churches into Protestant Churches in the early 1600's, and then they eventually decommissioned most of the big ones. But the old tombs are still in the floor, and the aristocratic pews are still around all the pillars, but essentially the church is completely empty, it's used only for exhibitions and organ concerts. It's kind of fascinating considering all the other European cities I've been to which are completely dominated by their amazing over the top cathedrals.














This one's from my new favorite Catholic Church. Once the Dutch outlawed Catholicism, they didn't really enforce it, but you couldn't practice it anywhere that actually looked like a church. This is a house around the corner from where I'm staying that has a church in the attic, Ons' Lieve Heer op Solder. It spans over 3 different houses (although you can only access it through the one) and is still in use on holidays and once a month. The rest of the house is still preserved with some of the original 17th century wall coverings and delft tiles in the kitchens.

The biggest raspberries ever. They were the size of my head...ok, not my head, but my nose.

yum

I have come to the understanding that transfats are not the ultimate deep frying experience. The Dutch apparently render fairies and then deep fry things in the that, and it tastes like magic. Every time you clap, a Dutch person enjoys some frites and an apple fritter.

saturday in the parks

I wish I was a better writer, I could entertain everyone with tidbits and tales of adventures in "the miracle city", but I'm not.

I spent yesterday drawing in the most amazing spot, the Begijnhof, a cluster of secluded homes centered around a garden set in the middle of the city. It was originally a haven for religious unmarried or widowed women that didn't want to join the convent (and have to give up their material wealth) but were drawn to cloistered life, who in turn cared for the elderly. It was founded in the 1400s and the last Beguine died in the 70s. Now it's run by a foundation that rents the 92 flats out to unmarried women. And it is beautiful. It makes me almost want to pretend to be a good Presbetyrian and see if I can get on the waiting list.

It's the absolute opposite of the Red Light District: peaceful, quiet, you actually can't hear the city noises which are just a wall away. But filled with the same thing: unmarried, unconventional women.

And then there has been a series of concerts in the park for the past few nights, Friday night was Dire Straights (sorry Ahti, I didn't know in time) and the Saturday was Lenny Kravitz. So we all grabbed some wine and a blanket and sat outside of the venue, and rocked along to a very tightly leather pants clad Lenny. Half of the city had the same idea, barbequing and enjoying the free music. I mean afterall you don't really need to see him, and it's not like you would see him in the actual standing area anyway.

And just picture when the show was over and there were tens of thousands of people walkig out of the park, half of them on bikes, everyone in various states of inebriation, and the bikes actually ould ride throught the crowd! I am continually impressed by the Dutch natural atunement with thier bicycle. Which is why I have yet to ride the one the residency has for me.

for Kalev, the view from my window...albiet my bedroom window

The view from the window-window is just of the brick wall across the street, my bedroom has a much better view.

Am-ster-Damn!

Yeah Amsterdam!

I made it, and in classic Katie style. Because everyone would be disappointed if there wasn't any huge disaster and chaos at some point in the trip the fates decided to get it all out of the way early (or at least hopefully my arrival here is the the worst of everything and tomorrow will be an infinitely better day).

Needless to say, I pulled that age old nightmare of all international travelers and parents of said travelers...I lost my passport somewhere in the ether between getting on my flight in Gatwick (as a side note, Gatwick is 800 years outside of the city! It's not a London airport! whose idea was that?!) and standing in line at border patrol in Amsterdam...yeah...for real. Gone. I have no passport. Now just take a moment and imagine the panic, watching your fellow travelers orderly walking through immigration, tearing apart your bag hoping you were just being silly, imagine your inner-mother yelling at you for being such an irresponsible child (not to mention what your real mother's going to say), imagine looking at the immigration officers and explaining "yes, I am that dumb ass American that couldn't even keep track of a small booklet of the most important piece of paper ever"...yeah that's how my day started.

But the folks in immigration were fantastic, they had cake (aparently the airport is doing away with flight taxes), which I couldn't eat because the idea of eating something made me even less happy than I was already, but at least each one fo them offered some at least 4 times...but for real, they were amazing, and understanding, and put up with my absurd amount of tears and bad jokes about what it took to prove I was an American. And after about 6 hours that gave me a provisionary visa to hang out in Holland, Belgium, and the somewhere else. I'll admit I wasn't listening, I was just so happy to hear I wasn't going to be thrown to the international border limbo like that guy Tom Hanks played in that movie.

So I'm here.

The guy in charge of the house is awesome, as are everyone I've met so far who are associated with the program. They all invited me out to an opening on the other side of town, which I naturally excepted, never being one to turn down a party especially after a craptastic day, only since I'm not that proficient on a bike they were going to ride and I was going to take the tram...only the tram we thought went there, didn't, and it took me a long to figure that out. And then the lovely tram driver told me the right bus to be on, so I got on it, when the driver of that then informed me that it was going in the wrong direction, so I got off and got back on in the other direction, to which the other driver said that the first driver was wrong, but he'd get me there...hours later...needless to say I missed the opening, but I got to see A LOT of the city. So in the end I just went home, at which point Claudio, the guy in change, made me the best cabanara I've ever had, served with some wine from his father in Italy. And I'll admit it, my day is now infintiely better. He felt so bad for me he decided to cook me an home cooked Italian meal, and low and behold I'm human again.

So that's my first day in Amsterdam. For real. It actually a gorgeous city, even when seen through the eyes of an exhausted incredibly unhappy traveler. I'm excited, it's going to be good.

Or at least it can't get worse.