February 2006 Archives

You are totally spoiling me with the ammount of comments I suddenly get. Now I feel this strange urge to write something interesting. You know what! I'll walk to the neighbourhood café for a coffee. And when I'm back I'll report.

I am back. Loud radio in the neighbourhood café. Save the last dance for me. But not by The Drifters, by somebody else. Celine Dion, I drove all night. Dance and shout by Shaggy. Tom Petty free falling. And very very loud car commercials in between. Didn't go very well with reading my book. I ordered a medium latte, it came in a mug with a face on it. The mouth and the eyes were painted on, but the nose was ceramic, sticking out. I didn't have much of a view, a big truck with a Lays logo was parked in front of the window. Strange, last time I was there, the view was also blocked by a truck. Apart from myself there were two other customers in the café. Two very fat ladies, one black, one white. With tiny handbags. Big women often carry tiny handbags. I wonder why. I drank my coffee, and I tried to recover from an allergy attack that had been bugging me all morning. Those attacks always settle down once I leave the house, but since I had to finish my drawing this morning... It proved to have been a little too optimistic to not take any tissues. So I sat there in the café fighting with my nose. I could have gotten up to get a tissue, but I didn't. Every now and again a customer came into the café, poored him- or herself a paper cup of coffee, or used his or her own mug, payed, and left. How are you? Fine, fine. How are you? But most of the time I couldn't hear that because of the loud music. Two very self sure men came in, one with died hair. I could hear them, they talked loud. They wanted soup with extra bread and no croutons. They talked about leg warmers coming back into fashion. And they hoped that antenna balls were not going to come back. Antenna balls? That was my cue to leave the café. Antenna balls were funny enough for an interesting blog entry. As I walked out, one of the fat ladies was standing outside, cigarette in one hand, handbag in the other.

This is going to be a black & white illustration, but I always fill the different parts with colour, so that I can easily select them when I start Bob Rossing. I'll do that tomorrow. Now I will cook my children some dinner, Michiel is at the dentist's. Very funny thing happened this weekend. I went bowling. There were tv screens in the bowling alley, showing the olympics, but I didn't watch. At some point we had to stop bowling for a moment because of some announcements. So I look at a tv screen. Who do you think I see...? Mart Smeets, I'm serious.

Never before did so many women in Holland go through menopause at the same time. One million. The mouthwatering details scattered around my illustration: botox injections into the armpit perspiratory glands, the home menopause test -much like the pregnancy one-, coffee, alcohol, and sugar seem to stimulate hot flashes, whereas green peas, snow peas, cabbage, Brussels sprouts and spinach seem to work against them due to natural oestrogens, lubricants of course, hormonal pads, but hormonal suppositories and vaginal cremes have less side effects, high tech clothing from strong absorbing and quick drying materials, and self adhesive armpit pads. In case you're still reading this, here's the big version.

Author number ten already, and it's still February. This will go on for another ten months! This guy is a hard one, he's got no hair. But I think I have the likeness. I did the right hand page first, I think you can see that. And while struggling with these sketches, I don't concern myself at all with making them nice looking, it is only searching for likeness, trying to understand a face. I think I understand this face now. It's very strange, I really need the sketches. I am not able to see it without a pencil. I took nine sketches before I knew I had to take away the forehead and focus on the chin.

Nothing very blogable today. I screen dumped a new author, but I decided to show you some every day Toronto. I tend to forget how exotic Toronto street scenes look to Europeans, they are already too familiar for me. Street scenes. Europeans too. I see this chunk of rust almost every day. Michiel took the picture on his way to work. I must show you more Toronto, we did buy a new digital camera, we should use it. We do, but most of the pictures we take are very unspectacular. I like unspectacular though, life is not a glossy magazine, life is unspectacular. Maybe I'll keep posting unspectacular photo's every once in a while.

Laura recognized my drawing in the newspaper. The lady from the computer, she said. I am so flattered. Laura is the daughter of Holland's most notorious blog commenter Joost Brummelkamp. He started his own blog recently, but his true passion lies in commenting. This one is a gem, but I'm afraid you have to really be into Dutch blogging to appreciate it. See, now I am writing about Joost, where I should be writing about Laura. She wishes me happy holidays. Same to you, Laura! I like your drawing very much, thank you!

The drawing is about menopause, that's why the Godess of Love is a little older. The sea is wilder, the weather is bad, she has involuntary urin loss, her sex drive is gone and she is standing in a dry vulva. Man, was I ever glad I was having my period while drawing this piece.

Tomorrow I am going to have fun. Doing colours for a change! I'll add some more detailing too. And I am going to change the air and the sea.

I gave in to endless and massive requests to put this image on a T-shirt and opened up a shop. I thought the little brat had some icon quality... So don't restrain yourselves, go spend some money on me.

Elsbeth Etty makes old fashioned chopped wood of Naema Tahir. She can't write, and her clumsiness makes her proze laughable. And I can't translate. A lot of praise for Heleen van Royen, which surprises me a bit. I threw her first novel in the paper bin, and read her second one in one single evening, leaving me with the same feeling I get when I watched too much tv. But undoubtedly Heleen is way funnier than Naema, and her values much much less tradional. Bigger version. Have to run now, taking my neighbours to the airport. I can have their car while they're in Mexico, yay.

I only had a couple of photographs back in December. Fortunately the drawing hadn't been published yet when I saw a TV interview with this author. What a difference.

Theodore Roosevelt refused to shoot the defenceless bear cub that was captured, stunned and tied to a tree to ensure that he had an easy target. The president was on a hunting trip, taking time out for relaxation after some hard political bargaining over the disputed boundaries between the states of Mississippi and Louisiana. The press who were covering Roosevelt's visit quickly heard of the incident and the Washington Star's political cartoonist Clifford Berryman drew a cartoon of the incident entitled 'Drawing the line at Mississippi'. The cartoon was printed in all the papers and Roosevelt's popularity soared as a result of his actions. For the rest of his political career Roosevelt mascot was 'Teddy's Bear'. And this is how the Teddy Bear became the Teddy Bear. Of course the Steiff family sees things differently.

A very childish little game, but it was funny today. I was taking a break from working on this drawing. I sat down on the couch and grabbed the book that was lying there. I opened it at a random page and my eye read "witty as well as pretty". Now isn't that funny. The question for the intellectuals among you is from which book is the quote (hehe). The rest of my readership is invited to put in my comment box a random quote from the first book in sight.

I sketched myself blind, I have no idea whether it's somewhere near okay. Maybe I'll change lots tomorrow, maybe not. Time to stop now. Or rather, I already stopped earlier, we even went for our night walk in the freezing cold. We met nice Brian, our neighbour. He said "I wish I had someone to go for walks with", aaaa.... But after the walk I couldn't leave the drawing alone. I should though. Goodnight Heleen and Naema!

I thought I found the amazing Fiodor Sumkin through the amazing pdf magazine The New Porker, but I can't find him back there, strange. Russian, weird, very hip. Does anybody out there know anything about this magazine? I found it through my del.icio.us feed. Fiodor in the meanwhile seems to have censored his blog, the more erotic drawings are gone. Fortunately I found them back on Flickr, but they're down for maintenance as I am writing this, so I can't link. I cought this image just in time.

My friend Ineke got me the 2006 New York Review of Books calendar!! This is so great, thank you Ineke! This is so great, only now we have to look at Condy Rice all month.

Two pages again, I am being spoiled. Maybe the world hasn't noticed it, with all the cartoon controversies everywhere, but there is a classical Holland/Belgium polemic going on in NRC Handelsblad. According to the Dutch critic, Belgian authors are better than Dutch ones. The Belgian critic disagrees, how civilised. Arjen Fortuin, the Dutch critic, says something that could be about me. It isn't of course. I translate: "I think it (the Belgians being better) has something to do with the fact that they can operate in the sidelines (very free translation); far away from the Amsterdam literary world, where everybody is looking over each other's shoulder". It is exactly why I can do this work, it would freak me out if I was doing this amidst all those literary celebs. Although I did regret having to turn down Pieter Boskma's invitation, damnit. He didn't know I am in Toronto. Next week! Brace yourselves, my editor just called me. Next week we'll have a ball, an earthquake will take place in literary Amsterdam. My next week's drawing will not go unnoticed.

I know I am not the world's greatest photographer. I am not the world's greatest cook either, but I can follow a recipe. And this risotto is so heavenly good, I want all my readers to eat it. I used fresh wild caught Georgian Bay smoked Whitefish. Recipe from the NYT, requires login.

Time: 35 minutes

10 ounces smoked cod (sable) or smoked haddock (finnan haddie) or my fresh wild caught Georgian Bay smoked Whitefish.
Freshly ground black pepper
1 bay leaf
Sprig of parsley
2 cups high-quality vegetable stock, or as needed
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon butter
1/2 teaspoon vegetable oil (they must mean tablespoon)
1 cup finely sliced leeks (white and light green parts only), well rinsed
1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
1/4 teaspoon ground mace (foelie)
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin (komijn)
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon turmeric (geelwortelpoeder)
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
1/3 cup white wine
1 teaspoon lemon juice (I don't believe their teaspoons)
2 tablespoons chopped parsley.

1. Cut fish into two or more pieces to fit into a skillet. Season with black pepper to taste, then add bay leaf, sprig of parsley and 2 cups water. Place pan over high heat, cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until fish is heated through but not falling apart, about 3 minutes.

2. Remove fish with a slotted spatula, wrap in foil, and set aside. Strain cooking liquid into a 1-quart (more or less a liter) measuring pitcher, and add enough vegetable stock to make a total of 1 quart liquid. Transfer to a saucepan and place over low heat.

3. In a large, wide saucepan, heat 2 tablespoons butter and the oil. Add leeks, and sauté over low heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add rice to pan, and stir until glossy, then add mace, cumin, coriander, turmeric and lemon zest. Raise heat to medium, and add wine, stirring until it is absorbed. Add a ladleful of vegetable stock mixture, stirring until it is absorbed. Add an additional ladleful of stock, stirring until it too is completely absorbed. Continue, ladleful by ladleful, until rice is cooked al dente, about 20 minutes. (Amount of liquid needed may vary and all the liquid may not be needed. )

4. Flake fish and add to rice along with remaining 1 teaspoon butter and the lemon juice. Remove from heat and mix well with a wooden spoon until mixture is creamy and well-blended. To serve, spoon risotto onto a large flat plate (just look at my beautiful large flat plate) and sprinkle with chopped parsley. Serve immediately.

Yield: 4 servings. Yeah right. We ate it with the two of us, Otger was too sick, Piffin at a friend's.

Sometimes I think the writer of the column doesn't really like children very much. This week they are bad mannered and ill raised. It surely must be possible to write something about how great children can be. Mozart, for example. But it's none of my business I guess, and I can draw horrible children, no prob. My own lovely son is still cooking on the couch. An almost transparant white complexion and red rimmed eyes... I gave him half an Advil, hope he'll sleep a bit.

Poor Otger has a terrible fever, he is cooking on the couch. The bright side of course that he kept me company while working. And Piffin has exam week, so she is home most of the day. Not that I am much use to them, staring at my screen. My back is stiff.

Women who don't wear underwear for reasons of priciple. These women apparently play a role in this author's book. Unfortunately I don't see how I can integrate them in his portrait. And besides, I very much value comfortable underwear.

My editor meant what he said, he sure made up for the stamp size images last week. Two pages! That's a first in my newspaper carreer. A Belgian answer to the very Dutch and somewhat stereoptyping article last week was of course to be expected. So this article is by a Belgian literature critic, lovely. I once read somewhere that no two neighbouring countries in the whole world are as culturally different as Holland an Belgium. Which could well be true. I am Dutch, but I lived in Belgium for years. Different worlds. Gerrit Krol is in a whole different galaxy of his own, the far North East of our country. Which is still just a couple of hours drive away from Belgium, but distances feel different in Europe. The Krol article starts with a quotation from a book called TV-bra, so you see, I am totally on topic with his gesture. Gesture up close.

It's my day off, so I make up for three days of lasagna, meatballs and other easy ways out. But still very appropriate. It really is one of the the good things about working for newspapers. Whenever I am not satisfied with my illustration I tell myself not to worry, because the next day the fish will be in it. But I don't expect to be discontented tomorrow, my editor promised me to make up for last week...

I hope people recognize him, I think most people only know him a lot younger than this. I did give him his old hair though, had to grant him that. And yes, his hands are meant to have something to do with yesterday's photo. I am so subtle.