The Embroider

Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around—Vanilla Sky

Early 2018, I awoke one morning with the decision to throw my current life in the Netherlands to the wind. I’d been living on the continent for over 27 years and remaining there no longer served who I was and what I wanted out of life. 

I decided there and then that before my next birthday, in April, I would repatriate to my hometown area of Oxfordshire in the UK. So, I put my house up for sale at the start of March and began a major life laundry, clearing up, throwing out and closing down my life there.

The move was complex. A moving company took the bulk of my possessions to the UK and put them in storage; my brother drove over with his transit van and picked up me, my two cats and remaining possessions. The overnight journey by boat went well and the cats became expats.

Since then, re-activating my life has been complex: buying a house; finding a job and getting used to England again. The feeling that I’m on Mars has lessened, but it’ll take a while before I feel as though I belong. The urge to speak Dutch has vanished, although the odd Dutch word will still pop up now and again thwarting my flow.

Finding a job is the main task at the moment and Internet searches on job sites are interspersed by appointments with employment agencies. It’s a slow process and my enthusiasm goes in peaks and dales.

On my trips to the centre of Oxford, I notice the increase in the number of homeless people, living on cardboard box panels, under duvets. Over the years, it’s  increased exponentially and it’s a sad sight to see in what is considered to be such an affluent city. Alongside the street dwellers, are opinionated preachers, musicians and young people, showing off acrobatic or football skills, in the hope of a few coins from passers by. 

One person, however, stood out from the rest, and who actively seemed to be trying to make something more positive out of her circumstances. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, on a sleeping bag, she was totally absorbed in the process of sewing a picture on a large canvas, using brightly coloured, embroidery thread and wool. Ironically, her back was facing the outside wall of a well known bank. Her pictures are happy scenes embroidered onto material, guided by roughly sketched outlines. Every so often she would be forced to take a rest, due to the arthritic pain in her hands. The results of her labours are charming, colourful pictures, which have a naivety to their style.

Stopping to chat, I found out that this was Carol’s turf. She’d sat here every day for the past six years—sewing. Her pictures were not limited to canvases, there was also a large lamp shade that someone had thrown away, which she had covered with her creative stitches, plus a rather macabre looking doll. ‘I’ll sew on anything I can get my hands on’, she said. At one time, she made a series of small dogs, which became popular and sold instantly whenever she made them, but she found making things to order boring. That’s not why she sewed: ‘I do what I do, because I have to,’ she said.

Whenever the police tried to move her on she would say: ‘I’m not beggin’, I’m working.’ To the tourists who want to photograph her she says: ‘ If you want to take a photo of my work and help me do what I do—throw some coins in the box.’

I told her that I kept a blog and asked if she’d mind if I photographed her and her work for a blog post: ‘You do what you’ve got to do—at least you asked, most people don’t’, she replied. ‘I’ve been on telly and photographed before’, she added. As a raised my phone, she went quiet, adverted her eyes and bent her head to look at the ground. 

Like many artists, Carol was doing, in her words ‘what she had to do’. How she came to be there is of course another story and not relevant to my conversation with her. I was touched by the way she embraces her creativity as a means to survive on the streets, but ultimately shies away from the limelight.

If you’d like to see Carol’s work, or have a chat, you’ll find her sitting at Carfax, at the end of Cornmarket Street.

© Alison Day

Alison Day Designs

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Angélique Boter

The Autumnal air is still mild as I make my way through the Rivieren neighbourhood of Groningen. My Vespa is parked a little way off outside a doctor’s surgery because of another disruptive bout of building and road alterations, leaving the street impassable. Trees line the street of my destination interview, and at the base of each trunk is a pool of bright yellow fallen leaves; nature’s annual haircut, leaving branches like un-gloved fingers pointing skywards. The clack of my heels on concrete slabs is intermittently replaced by a swishing sound, like crinoline skirts at a ball, as I wade through the dry pools of yellow to meet illustrator and muralist, Angélique Boter.

A small figure with friendly face opens the door to her second floor flat. I can see from her eyes that the thought of being interviewed has her somewhat unnerved, so I put her fears to rest as we sit down with cups of peppermint tea.

At a young age Angélique often accompanied her father, a window dresser, to his work and assumed that one day she would follow in his footsteps. However, this was not to be, as she was accepted to study drawing at the Academy Minerva in Groningen. Her study years she coupled with a job in the family business, which supplies exhibition stands and walls for public events. Enjoying life drawing and painting the most, she discovered that her strength lay in simple, black and white, line drawings, so she decided to graduate in this.

After Minerva, with a tutor’s comment still ringing in her ears that when asked to include colour in her drawings, they became forced, she decided that she would go in search of colour: “Colour is also a feeling,” she proffers. To this end, Angélique goes out regularly for coffee, alone and armed with a sketchbook and drawing materials, to draw the world at large. Sometimes, she will be in Groningen, other times she picks another city, like Berlin or Prague. With the drawings come stories, thoughts and experiences; a living diary: “It is an experience of what I see”. She hands me a sketchbook filled with sketches - snapshots. One catches my eye that of a little dog in a bicycle basket by some traffic lights; seen in Amsterdam whilst touring the city on her fold-up bicycle. Later, she skilfully pens the memory to the page; the result is pure, simple, the essence of her subject.

The sketches come thick and fast, her writings often leading to the creation of a child’s story book. With several of her ideas, she has taken the illustrative stories to colourful, printed mock ups; all she needs now is a publisher. She hands me one entitled dEUS, which takes place in the Noorderplansoen, and will include an informative treasure hunt through the park, when finally published. For this she has enlisted the help of a biologist to research her facts. 

The idea of layering within her work becomes apparent; she hopes to stimulate the viewer to discover the rest for themselves: “The less I show, the more there is for another to discover.” Playing with words and names, she wants to give children something to think about. Why should a book be obvious after only one reading? As a child grows mentally, why not offer them a book which grows with their fantasy and perception as well; a book can be an interesting re-read at a variety of ages?

In today’s highly competitive world, like many illustrators, Angélique is determined to publish her work. With several illustrative commissions in children’s books already to her name, and regular assignments for a local newspaper, her work is out there for all to see.

Should you want to know more about Angélique her website can be found here:

www.angeliqueboter.nl

First published in the Connections magazine #34 Winter 2012

View all issues of Connections HERE (editor, designer, illustrator: 2006-2013)

© Alison Day Designs

Roos Van Pagée - Autumn issue - Connections

A terracotta pot filled with tiny white-faced violas marks the start of the ascent to the first floor house in multi-toned redbrick, in the Korreweg neighbourhood of Groningen. Tripping lightly up similarly coloured brick steps, I pull on the brass bell handle and wait. The door is opened by Roos van Pagée, bronzed by the sun and recently returned from her holidays in France. A slight figure, dressed in a light black shift dress, dark locks of hair tumbling past her shoulders. Momentarily embarrassed, she admits that she thought that our meeting was next week, but invites me in anyway.

She leads the way into an open plan living room, stylish in its décor; walls covered with artwork, that of her own and other artists. Before we head up another flight of stairs, drinks in hand, to her studio, her son: 10-years-old, denim shorts and green and white striped T-shirt wistfully asks if he can take the baby guinea pig out of its cage, a new addition to the household. “Later” is the reply.

The space upstairs, is a large open plan area, half serving as a bedroom the other half a studio. Flooded with sunlight, white curtains flap idly in the opening of the balcony doors and in the middle of the room there is the most enormous and stunning ornately carved, Indonesian bed, raised high off the ground on four sturdy wooden legs, so that you really have to climb up into it. Turning left, we enter Roos’s studio; two enormous canvases each several metres across of work in progress, flank the room: figurative, life-like, ethereal in colour and experimental in composition, both exuding a calm similar to their surroundings. Water-based oils are Roos’s preferred medium; she likes their oily consistency, the long drying times and resulting movability of the paint.

Having viewed her website I am curious as to where Roos finds her inspiration. She has her own personal twist on reality from which she draws in order to realize her creations. Like most artists she is influenced by her own experiences, as well as the world around her. This she uses as a base, but feels that her work should also encompass the intangible too; it should pass the realms of ‘the ordinary.’ As she says:

“When you enter the realms of imagery through emotions, as opposed to reality, you enter a world that cannot be described bywords.”

Her figures come to life through reference to photos made of people she has asked to pose for her; they are realistic in skin tone and facial features, but the poses are unusual. A model may lie with her head close to a table surface, whilst another, sword in hand and dressed for fencing, has a stabbing duel-like stance. This is then furthered by the inclusion of the esoteric, in the depiction of beautiful materials and colours, but she says, the trick is to make sure that it doesn’t become too superficial.

A particular series, Meisjes van Verkade, which caught my eye, is where it is not just one female figure that occupies the canvas but two (and occasionally three). The figures are mirror images or twins, with maybe one tiny discrepancy that one figure will be looking out at you whilst the other looks away. The reason for this Roos explains that there is more of a universal dimension in two of something as opposed to one:

“With two there is more than one…as a result of this it can continue living on without me…also, the two of them have something in common with each other.”

Initially, Roos trained to be a creative therapist as a back up to the Art College Aki she had followed in Enschede, which meant she was also qualified to teach. Finding that she was never able to get down to her own work, she left employment in the former in favour of giving lessons in drawing and painting. This she still continues to do for small groups, some of which take place in her studio.

So far this year, she has exhibited in the library in Groningen and has several up and coming exhibitions in the Province later this year. She has a very distinctive illustrative style, which has meant that she has come in the top twenty-five people, four times in a Belgian, kid’s book illustration competition; the book has yet to be published.

When it comes to the art market, she finds the German market the best. There people are more prepared to pay for artwork, particularly when a recently purchased house needs re-styling.

If money was no object she would like to have a second, very large studio, preferably in a beautiful land by the sea and continue as now - painting.

If you’d like to see more of Roos’s work go: here

First published in the Connections magazine #33 Autumn 2011

Read & download issue HERE

View all issues of Connections HERE (editor, designer, illustrator: 2006-2013)

© Alison Day Designs

Houtmagier (Wood Magician) Arjan Portengen

Finding some studios and their artists isn’t always a breeze, but once I had found a large and obviously empty building that looked like a perfect space to house a furniture designer, I knew I was on the right track. Previously a warehouse for kitchen supplies, the building is now totally empty, except for the presence of four artists who have made personal studios out of the space within it. One of these is Arjan Portengen; also known as ‘De Houtmagiër’ (Wood Magician).

The revolving entrance door to the building had to be unlocked in order to let me in and opened out onto an enormous interior space of concrete floors, large high windows and a motionless escalator to the upper level. As we walked through it towards Arjan’s studio of six years, the abandoned feel of the building, reminded me of the atmosphere in the film ‘Escape from NY’ starring Kurt Russell.

The building is one of a multitude of properties managed by Ad Hoc (www.adhocbeheer.nl) a nationwide company responsible for vacant buildings. These are rented out, for a token monthly payment, until such a time as the property is reused or demolished. The tactic is to prevent vandalism and break-ins, so often prevalent in empty buildings.

‘Ribbenkast’ (Ribs cupboard) by Arjan Portengen

Once ensconced on a large sofa with a cup of coffee I asked Arjan what led him to becoming the wood magician and furniture designer. In reply, he said that for him, old furniture has always had more soul than new and many of his pieces have started out life as an object thrown away on the street, by a previous owner. This interest in furniture and bric-a-brac in turn has led him develop his signature style by creating a new object, by way of a collage of both new and old elements, which at the finish becomes a completely new piece of furniture in it’s own right. Most of the time he already has an idea in his head to start with and this is translated into a sketch, but as with most sketches, the idea evolves as he works. He coupled his interest in furniture with a study, where he trained as a furniture maker for a year and a half, thereby learning the basics of furniture construction, the rest (in his words) came from him and has resulted in what he makes today.

In a lot of his work there lies a conceptual joke, cupboards dance or take on a new form or life of their own. For example, there is the ‘Ribbenkast’ (Ribs cupboard), a white skeletal spine-like construction supporting a series of draws, of varying sizes, at intervals along its length. The skeletal spine symbolizes death and the draws represent memories. Each draw is individual and brightly coloured. In this case (which is an exception to his general colour use), it is a reference to the Mexican traditional use of vibrant colours and their intense relation with the dead, particularly during the annual ‘Day of the dead’ celebration.

De Dansende Kast !! - “It takes two to tango”

When asked about influences in his work, he says he tries (hard though it is) not to be influenced by external influences and if he is, it is not done expressly.

Other than his creative side and the ‘kronkels realiseren’ (realising the twists of ideas that present themselves), he is a restorer and carpenter able to make and mend traditional doors, cupboards and interiors, which he enjoys. At the moment he is restoring a farm interior and its built-in cupboards, so the creative projects are temporarily on hold.

I ask him if money and support were no object, what would he like to make here in Groningen, to leave his mark? After a bit of thought Arjan came up with two. The first would be to work his wood magic on the east wall of the City Hall or a whole room as artwork, with total free licence to do whatever he wanted. The second came just as I was leaving. To build a tram carriage totally out of wood and in his inimitable style and attach it to one of the future trams that Groningen will be getting. I pitch in, that he should work his website address into the side of the tram too for a bit of publicity! With that the revolving door is unlocked again, I step out into bright sunlight, take my leave of Arjan and hop onto my bike in search of some retail therapy at the nearby IKEA.

Arjan Portengen’s website: De Houtmagier

Studio: Sontplein 4-8, 9723 BZ Groningen

First published in the Connections magazine #28 Summer 2010

Read & download issue here

View all issues of Connections HERE (editor, designer, illustrator: 2006-2013)

©  Alison Day Designs

William van de Velde - Kunsteboer

On a blustery and rainy Sunday afternoon (kitted out head to toe in rain gear, in anticipation of what the delightful Northern European weather was going to throw at me), I set out on my trusty bicycle to visit William van de Velde, also known as Kunsteboer (Artistic farmer), to learn more about him and his work.

Nestled in the woods, you enter chez William’s via a little bridge over a stream, the railings of which have been designed and created by him. Then through a large gate topped with an impressive iron bird, rust-red and in mid-flight.
The house has three separate parts to it. In one part Karen (William’s partner) was preparing to give a Thai’s massage to a client. Then we had a peak into the trailer, transformed by William into their son’s (Padouk’s) bedroom-playroom. The interior is of wood complete with one of William’s creative wood burning stoves, in the form of an elephant. In the garden everywhere you look there is a piece of William’s work; some pieces are functional whilst others are decorative and amusing. A fusion of pieces of metal and found objects, the older pieces having added charm due to being aged by the weather. Then we moved onto the hub of their house and the kitchen-living room. I was greeted by a very friendly dog and astutely ignored by two cats, as we sat down over hot drinks and William began to tell me about his life.

He was born in Paris, but his youth was quite a nomadic existence, (he lived in a variety of places in southern France), so it wasn’t until he visited Groningen, in the mid nineteen nineties, that he found a place he actually wanted to stay. He likes The Netherlands and the sobriety and directness of the Dutch, in comparison to the passionate often-irrational explosive nature of his fellow countrymen. According to William, with the Dutch you know what to expect and where you are with them. He also likes Groningen because it is bursting with art, exhibitions, festivals, music, and attractions, far more than his native France. This has definitely played a roll in him becoming an artist: “I have become what I am because I came to live here,” he says. Also, as most of his circle of friends are artists too, there is a constant stimulation to develop oneself.

He had a brush with Minerva (the art academy) for a period of three months, before deciding it would be better to just go out and do it, seeing as he was already exhibiting at the time (at Stichting Baksteen), funnily enough with his entrance piece (a man-lamp) to the art school.

Having the Dutch directness off to a tee, he became a member of the prestigious Groningen art circle ‘de Ploeg’ by asking to become one. When they questioned him as to why, he unabashedly said, in order to promote himself. Liking his audacity and the fact that they didn’t have a sculptor at the time in their numbers, they accepted him!

An artist of circumstance, as a ship restorer the start of William’s creativity was when he noticed the sheer amount of metal left lying about, after the welding process was over. This was considered waste and so he took the pieces and began to solder them together, often giving his creations away as birthday presents. One time he made a set of Jujitsu fighting figures, which were so popular that they went like hot cakes, with orders for more.

When asked about his artistic process from start to finish, he says that initially rubbish is abstract, so he aims to make something recognizable out of it. Often seeing heads and arms amongst the pieces, he takes them and waits to see what they become in his hands. When it comes to commissions he is quite happy to work to the specified design of a client, but of course to be given free licence is his real passion. As to influences, he says although he is a culture barbarian he is not consciously influenced by anyone in particular, except himself, and then roars with laughter.

Does he have plans for the future? Yes, he wants to create on a larger scale, the bigger the better. With this in mind he would like to be given the chance to embellish buildings throughout the city. One such idea is to make a palm tree out of the chimney attached to the Simplon building. He apparently has been given the go ahead, now all he needs is investors; anyone interested? It will be a feat of mastery to realize, but once completed it would certainly improve the Groningen skyline.

William’s work can be regularly seen in exhibitions, at art festivals and markets, however, if you would like to contact him for more information about his work, his website can be found at: Kunsteboer.

First published in the Connections magazine #26 Winter 2009

View all issues of Connections HERE (editor, designer, illustrator: 2006-2013)

©  Alison Day Designs