Cubism

Endless hair

If you're struggling with your hair, I've got some tips. I'm qualified because I've got the longest and most beautiful hair in my city (being selectively blind.)

My hair is actually endlessly long. 

It started because whenever I came back from the barber, I wasn't happier with how I looked, so I stopped having it get cut --  and it grew.

I wasn't concerned with how long it got until one weekend someone pulled on the end of my hair, and when I turned around, I couldn't see them, so I spent the rest of the weekend trying to find the person, but I could not, because I could not find the end of my hair, as it doesn't exist. 

I guess that upset me enough that I forgot all about the tips I had. But here's one that is helpful: don't let it get this far.

Eggs

When's the last time you've thought about breathing, or how to walk, or any of the hundreds of household items you've seen every day since basically the start of your life?

Well, I hadn't thought about eggs -- chicken eggs specifically, in a while. It fluctuates, though generally, eggs are, and have been, a big part of my diet. They're pretty good. 

One day, during easter, while talking with my almost 2-year-old nephew, he pointed at an egg and accurately said: 'egg,' which I agreed to -- then I understood that I had to make art about eggs. 

Because even though their competition is fierce, eggs have some of the best marketability out there in terms of appearance.

Helping start a car

Imagine all the people you walk past you don't hear because of your headphones, a task only challenging for those who don't use them (much), but please try.

For me, they're not a tool for isolation, however, it's a nice additional perk. Still, when I hear a stranger asking for attention, I anxiously give it to them.

This one time, a guy in his 'parked' car at the side of a street in Den Bosch told me that because the car hadn't moved in months, the battery died, and he asked me if I could help push start it.

I didn't have anything better to do, so skeptically, I helped him. Together, we revived the car, and while honking, he drove away.

Another person that I'll likely never come across, and even if I did, I wouldn't hear or see.

Few clouds

I get tired of making art about my sisters, but when making art about the sky, it's too easy to inject them into whatever other narrative I'm working on.

Sometimes, I merely want to look at the sky and appreciate its beauty -- so there's no meaning here. If you're looking for it, please move on. 

A sky full of clouds is often as impressive as an empty one: not very. 

Preferably, around 20% of the sky is clouded, but the perspective may be captivating as long as 20% of the blue sky is noticeable.

And while looking at such a sky, I feel at ease with life. I'm not sure whether I'm still anxious. Probably, but it's not the type of thing I remember. I am sure I  feel like I'm floating along the clouds, and I'm inconsequentially small and irrelevant, which I actually am, of course, but now that realization comforts me.

Waiting for the call

I feel anxious about whether I'm actually anxious or not, and I'm not even sure about the authenticity of that feeling.

I've always experienced anxiety, but the feeling used to be predictable. Recently (it's already been more than half a year), it has become part of my regular experience -- making art about being hungry might have me feeling off.

It took me a while to talk to my GP. It took us longer to figure out it probably wasn't physical, which led to me getting referred to a mental health clinic, which is taking even longer to call back.

They told me I'd be on the waiting list for 72 days. When I had waited those days, and they hadn't called me, I assumed they didn't count weekends and vacations. When even accounting for that, the days had passed without a call; I became anxious about whether I did something wrong. 

I know I should call them to confirm, but I'm sure I've become very fond of waiting for the call. Maybe I am actually anxious, but it's just another hobby to fill my empty time.

Art my parents hate

The title of this art piece is a lie, but it's more accurate than most real stories you love, which are either filled with falsities or cherry-picked -- this is what you want.

So, the title of this art piece is the truth.

My mom (in friendly words) keeps telling me about how she doesn't like my recent poems. What she means, and where she is correct, is that they are not great at communicating my ideas. 

It's the same reason I struggle to read poetry; it just doesn't resonate. But still, I'll keep creating poems that I likely wouldn't enjoy had I not made them.

Until I find a way to change them, and by then, she'll have forgotten that she was a big reason behind the change. 

My dad doesn't even hate my poems; he doesn't care for them at all. They mean nothing to him.

Success wouldn't mean making my mom, who studied the English language at some university, like my poems. I'm sure I could make her care. 

No, real success means making even my father, who surely influenced my indifference to language, care.

Hustling hobo's courage

Den Bosch doesn't have much of a homelessness problem. They exist, and some are consistently on specific corners to beg, but most of those aren't even homeless.

I love walking, and the city is a beautiful place to explore (though the same buildings can only amaze so many times.) Although it's a little bit away, many of my walks include it.

This one guy has asked me many times to either give him some money or to help him buy weed from a coffeeshop (though I'm not (anymore), probably because I look like the type of guy to smoke.)

Another time, I saw two of them stand on top of one another to climb over the (open) fence of the Sint-jan. They asked if I could lend them a hand; I couldn't've acted more ignorant of the situation. 

But whatever you think of them, and I don't personally care to demean or belittle them, their courage to interact with people who want little to do with them is commendable. 

However much they are outcasts, in many ways, they're more socially inclined than at least me and probably numerous others.

Slave to impulses

Whenever I've got any semblance of a good idea, which often is just something to complain about, I've got a tendency to express it multiple times in a short period. 

So, this is just another piece complaining about being hungry but then disguised by something more abstract to not bore you or me with a stale story (and to appear more intelligent).

Impulses drive everything you've ever done and ever will do. Which I don't think is much of a problem most of the time, but some of those impulses will be for things you know you shouldn't do. 

You may give in, suffering the consequences you knew would exist, then later complain about those, or you can, and will often, not.

Maybe you'll try very hard never to submit, you'll get none of the drawbacks and none of the dopamine, and now you're bored; is this even a life worth living?

And once again, you'll go back to a hedonistic lifestyle that'll at least keep you entertained while you're capable of it: this is happiness.

Hunger

If you analyze my life (and are a little weird), it could appear like, since the age of 14, I keep gaining weight, just so that I can lose it again, so that I can gain it again, on repeat. 

Since moving out, I had to relearn how to feed myself, including, for some reason, that you can't keep food in the fridge for that long and that I can't handle having snacks around as I'll never stop eating them.

Recently, I've been trying to lose weight again. Even when I eat whatever I want, I'm always hungry, so it's rough.

Unrelated, I've also been trying to get better at selling my art, which is difficult because when I'm free from my job, I don't want to spend it on another instead of working on my art. 

In that sense, ironically, because I'm not "hungry" enough, it's hard to get better at selling my art, though this is as much a privilege.

But some days, I daydream about my hunger for food overtaking my ability to reason so that I'll start eating my art. I'm sure that'll make it sell.

Locked out

Then I arrived "home" without even a keyfob in my possession. They took that away from me, too. I should've just rang the doorbell of one of my neighbors.

It took about an hour for another resident to walk by, and from the moment I noticed them, I somehow sensed they would be using a different door. Instead of following them, I decided I'd rather wait some more.

Only thirty minutes later, someone from the correct door arrived. I mustered up the courage to follow them, and when they were about to open the door, their keyfob didn't work -- the door, not my keyfob, was broken this whole time. 

We exchanged some quick words, but I couldn't handle the internal awkwardness and decided to move to the other door.

Nobody else would arrive for two hours, so I finally rang a doorbell. When I pulled the front door, I noticed that someone had put a screw in the door so anyone could open it. Who knows for how long this had been the case?

Of course, I learned a lot from the situation -- mainly that I should buy a ladder so I could climb onto the first floor when necessary.

Pablo Picasso

Henri Matisse

The keymaker

The apartment building I moved to has an electronic lock that needs a keyfob to open. I only received one, a fact that irritated me the day I moved in, but the rent is cheap, so it's hard to complain.

One day, when I came home from a walk, the front door didn't open anymore, so I went to another that didn't open either. 

I've never felt so vulnerable. Of course, I assumed that my keyfob was the problem, and anxiously I called a keymaker to replace it, who told me I had to come over, which I did.

Surrounded by many large keys, the keymaker skeptically asked me what was in front of my apartment building. I assumed to figure out whether I lived there, and nervously, I thought and, after a minute, crying, I said I didn't know.

The keymaker, now confused, asked me why I was crying, to which I again responded I didn't know before the keymaker told me they ordered my key and I could go. So humiliated, I walked back home to a locked apartment complex.

Happily walking my life away

There are many ways you can travel to most locations you need to go, and there's only one almost universal: walking.

Even though that's an intriguing idea, it doesn't influence my love for the transportation method much.

Frankly, I struggle to understand why I love it so much -- I'm Dutch, so maybe it's because biking is just too prevalent, making walking another way to feel unique. 

My parents think I'm crazy. They also think it's weird that I don't repair my bike or get a driver's license. But I'm content with walking -- toward public transit if necessary.

Walking seems to suit me. I don't move or go outside enough, or rather, I wouldn't if it weren't for walking. There's also so much time in our lives, and a lot of it we waste on dopamine machines; walking is an alright alternative to that.

And finally (and this is a secret), it's how I find all the ideas for my art. I'm not sure who leaves them there, but throughout the city (and surrounding area), someone ditches all these great, free ideas I pick up, which nobody else ever seems to. Maybe they're all too busy to look around.

Blind Guy's World

In early February, I walked into the Citadel in Den Bosch to look at one of the great perspectives of the city. I sat down on a bench, listening to Echoes. 

A little later, a guy I had noticed a minute before found the bench. I assumed he also wanted to enjoy the view.

""I don't care much about the concrete,"" he told me. He mustn't have noticed my headphones, or maybe he didn't care, and because I didn't want to make it awkward and was severely confused, I responded, which I wouldn't typically: ""What do you enjoy?""

I was mostly confused because the perspective we were looking at contained no concrete.

And without thinking, he explained: ""Solid shapes, depth, dots. Colors do nothing for me."" Part of this seems reasonable, but sometimes, when someone gives me a subjective opinion I don't share, I can't believe them. 

Then, I knew it was time to leave. I hadn't been able to enjoy the perspective much since noticing the guy anyway, and now he wasn't making much sense.

I told him he had some good taste and that I had to go. Only when I had left the Citadel and walked next to the water I noticed he was blind -- because while flying away from the bench, he crashed into the bridge.

So, in his honor, I recreated that guy's world, or at least what I could understand from his confusing opinions.

Stairs At Night

Differences in light and visibility change scenes much, and not at all. It's easy to not care about impressive sights and, at the same time, to feel very passionate, maybe even emotional, about an ordinary backyard. 

More so than any changes in the atmosphere, it's a different mindset that can suddenly transform an uninteresting building into a masterpiece.

Often, a change in the scene is just an excuse to look around, and when you do that, looking for great perspectives, they, however impossibly slowly moving, even creep up on you.

And there's no way to preserve it; a picture will never capture the same feelings, as they're part of the mindset, and any description or imitation will be a weak copy (at best). All you can do is enjoy it and maybe be inspired, knowing the great impression this made on you. 

Or, perhaps I'm just bad at what I do -- here are the stairs of the Library in the heart of Den Bosch, shining bright in the dark.

Looking All Ways With My Headphones On

When I'm about to walk homeward from my weekly visit, my mom, after I've just declined her offer to drive me back, says:  ""Be careful, especially with those headphones on.""

If I wanted to die, I wouldn't do it by walking off into traffic, so, of course, I'll make sure to be careful -- looking every way imaginable multiple times. 

Honestly, and please don't tell her this, it's not the headphones that are dangerous; I can hear the cars. It's the hair that, more than my glasses, makes me practically blind.

Sometimes, I make a weird turn, and all roads start going in different directions and dimensions. I still look all ways, but it's quiet, like cars never existed, for the whole 50-minute walk.

Then, the insanity inflicted on me is more dangerous than traffic could ever be. Luckily, when I'm back home, working on my art, I'll forget all about it, and my parents, and the need to look all ways.

Most Vivid Recent Memories Are dreams

Sometimes, while reflecting on my life, it's hard to determine how long certain aspects have been present. 

An example is that (maybe recently), throughout my day, I have some memory of an odd situation that only ever happened in my head.

Yet such a memory often still feels as vivid as the memories about my recent visit to my parents, when I went to a poetry night or a walk I went on.

I don't know if I'm ever confused whether a memory is real or not -- I don't think I am, but if they feel as vivid, how could I know? 

And should I even care? 

A beggar I once knew spent half his life dreaming he was a king; the guy was just a king waking up to be a beggar.

Desiring Something You Don't Want

It's so easy, maybe too easy, to talk when I'm not thinking about it; words, sentences, and stories quickly and without restraint come out of me.

Sometimes, I have to think about what to say. Then, I understand how the Buddhist monks do it -- because, it feels like, not even a letter or number comes to mind.

There seems to be nothing more difficult in this world than having to think about conversation.

I can only assume that people desire to be among others much, seeing all the boring high-effort things they don't care about, they do to achieve it. 

Perhaps it's easier for them. Or maybe they don't know how to entertain themselves.

Occasionally, I also have a desire for social attention. When that happens, I might do something tiresome I don't care about, talking to strangers.

And when that's easy, it can be fun, but it quickly reminds me of why I spend so much time alone. It's not that the people are inadequate -- maybe they are, but it's hard to get to know them. 

No, I'm alone because it costs so much effort to do a tedious task for something I probably wouldn't want anyway.

Most Details Are Redundant

Most details in art (and life) are redundant. I probably only believe this because my work isn't that exact.

Of course, my art does contain detail -- it's impossible not to have detail if you're portraying anything, especially if you've been doing it for a while. 

But when I think about 'detailed' work, I think about purposefully capturing small elements relating to the idea of the art piece. 

Instead, I focus only on what makes the idea engaging. And then, I use details solely to make those few elements more intriguing.

However, someone might call my art redundantly detailed, and I might prefer a needlessly detailed piece over one with few. 

So it's all just arbitrary gatekeeping in the end.

Even Sober Months Disappear

I'm sure that humans invented language in part so that they could better complain about time going fast. 

So here's the obvious: somehow, it feels like, at least when looking back, every couple of seconds, a day passes. 

Habits are something my brain likes. When I was using drugs, this also quickly became a habit. While it was, time evaporated, and I spent much of it on useless dopamine machines.

In hopes of slowing down time, in part by spending it better, I decided to get sober. 

And now, even sober, spending my time better, months are disappearing.

Vincent van Gogh

Another Bird Over Water

Don't remember or care where, but I noticed a bird flying over water. What a free creature. Do you think it understands the depths it's flying over with such ease? Few do. 

It reminded me of another time (the 16th of September, 2022) when I saw a similar bird flying over similar water, and I decided to draw it (#386).

So now, because of that loser, I have to feel unoriginal about an idea I feel strongly about. But the joke's on that guy, I never was original. Only the insane ever do anything new, and I haven't lost it yet.

And that's the key: accepting there are probably four billion other people who have had the exact idea you feel so passionate about. 

If you're lucky, you'll convince some that you thought it better.

Another Lonely New Year

It's almost 12. I look outside and see groups of people coming from their apartments. Out of nowhere, I feel lonely. 

The feeling wasn't wrong; I had been alone all day, if not all week, but I usually don't feel like it.

Seeing those people reminded me of the parties I had been to in the past -- which I mostly hated going to. I didn't go to many.

People who like parties are faking it. At least, I can't understand it, other than it being an excuse for getting high (which, when I still got high, I had no trouble doing on my own).

I think I feel lonely, not because I'm not around people, but because I don't want to be.

Haven't Seen The Sun In A While

It's not like I haven't been trying. (Almost) every day, she knocks on my windows, but when I go outside, all I can find are clouds and their tears.

Maybe she's upset. In the summer, she worked long hours, seven days a week, but couldn't find me -- I was inside then. 

She gets too hot sometimes.

And also, my brain made me feel like I was about to explode. I decided that if an explosion were my fate, I'd rather have it be inside.

But now I ache for her warmth. Looking at trees, grassfields, and bodies of water without her around somehow always feels less beautiful. 

When the summer is back, I'll miss the gloomy days of the winter. Yet again, what makes me happy is complaining about what I can't have.

Until the sun returns, I'll hallucinate lush trees, free-flowing water, and green grass fields.

High Water In Den Bosch

I don't know much about many things (like most people). How and why the water inside of Den Bosch goes up or down is one of those things.

Recently, it rained a lot, maybe that's why? But it often rains, and the water rarely consumes the city.

Anyway, so there was high water in Den Bosch, which I walk through frequently, and it was a pleasant sight. 

Some benches I sometimes sit on are now inaccessible because of it. And boats that typically relax on the water are now swallowed up by it.

Sometimes I think about if the rising sea level will inevitably result in much worse consequences for Den Bosch (I guess the Netherlands in general, but who cares about places you never or rarely visit).

There's nothing I can do to help that. So I won't worry about it either. Hopefully, if the water does end up swallowing us all, it'll at least be beautiful.

Finally alone

Being alone is fantastic. Or so I tell myself. 

I'm conflicted, as I refuse to engage in behavior that would result in me not being alone (because I don't want to do those things), but sometimes I get the urge to connect to others.

Even then, it's challenging to be completely alone. In my apartment, where I live alone, my many neighbors, make noise sometimes . And otherwise, the cars driving by would.

If all of those are somehow quiet, there's also still this device that puts sounds in my ears, which I could remove, but what's the point?

One of the ways to fully be alone is to go for a walk in a more secluded area. This painting is inspired by walking past the Bosche Broek. It was cold and dark, and within, I saw a tiny figure who seemed all alone. I was, and still am, jealous.

The Bowl

A while before I work on the ideas I develop into art pieces, I send them to myself using WhatsApp. I can only presume that this idea came while making breakfast using a bowl.

I suppose I must've thought about how practical, and maybe even beautiful, the bowl was. And about how universal the tool is to humans and has been for centuries. 

Or, more likely, I was just in the mood for coming up with ideas. 

Sometimes, but rarely, I've got great ideas that, on merit alone, make for great art. If I only were to develop those great ideas, I wouldn't make much art at all. 

And because I don't know any rules about making art, I need to make a lot of (less outstanding) art to improve. 

So, most of the time, I work on ideas that are merely an excuse to work on more art. But don't get it twisted. These ideas are way more important than the great ones: 

The great ideas make a fantastic piece by themselves. But to develop anything good with worse ideas requires putting a special kind of thought into it, which, with time, will make all my art better.

Fruit

The family of my half-sister, Americans, had never eaten any vegetables or fruit in their lives. Instead, they opted for poor, sugary imitations.

To one of my ancestors, and you don't have to go that far back, our everyday fruit might seem like imitations of theirs. 

But our selectively bred, more extensive, more consistent, more colorful, and less seedy fruit is a sign of the inventiveness of humans and how we can use nature for our benefit.

Although genius, the processed food my sister's family ate is just not as great, as they rely much less on enhancing natural flavors and more on optimizing addictive food. 

That's just personal taste, though. What is objective is that fruit is more beautiful and fun to portray. 

Nails Keep Growing

For a human, many annoying things are certain. Among those, the obvious are breathing, hunger, thirst, tiredness, labor, rent, taxes, buying anything, and death.

Anyone who does not experience all of those might be inside of a human body, but they're not human. In the same way, a church without God is only a building, and a forest without trees is simply a bare plane.

But the worst of the unavoidables is the growing of my nails.

Much too often, there comes a point where I realize they've grown much too long, a point where I have to get a nail cutter and always end up cutting them way too far.

Fighting Sleep (Like Valentijn)

My baby nephew Valentijn, like everyone else, gets tired sometimes. And when he does, his grandparents will prepare him for bed. 

When they do, he's always fighting them, which is ridiculous. His tiredness is unmistakable, and when he finally gets put to bed, he falls asleep instantly.

More ridiculous than that are the adults who, when they get tired, know they should get sleep but stay awake.

I'm a very responsible adult, so for me, this isn't an issue at all. I've got a job, meaning I need to wake up in time, so I'll get in bed early enough to get some good sleep.

But when I don't have my job the next day, I act just like my nephew, but unlike him, there's nobody to put me to bed except myself, so I stay awake, wasting so much of my precious free time for no good reason.

Sober In A Smoke Filled Room

An ex-colleague came to the Netherlands for a concert, and we met for a few hours. He's a nice guy, except for his nasty habit of always having an excuse for not making art, which drives me crazy. 

Even though it frustrates me, I do get it. To get anything done, I have to be slightly obsessed. Similarly, for me, it's impossible to use drugs only once in a while.

My friend wanted to smoke weed, which you can do at a coffeeshop in the Netherlands. Weed used to be a daily habit of mine, which I had wanted to quit probably as soon as it became one. 

So I was reluctant as I hadn't been to a coffeeshop since getting sober. And I knew I wasn't ready to smoke without likely quickly falling back into a habit. 

But I believed I was ready not to get tempted (and I begged my friend to give me nothing if I asked). Honestly, due to recent anxiety, even thinking of smoking makes me nervous, so it wasn't difficult.

That's what this painting captures: anxiously, though unrelated to the setting, sitting in a coffeeshop for the first time since becoming sober, next to my friend who's probably explaining for the fifth time why he can't just paint.

Hospital At Night

On the outskirts of Den Bosch, close to where I live, there's a great hospital called the 'Jeroen Bosch Hospital' named after the famous painter. It's hard to miss the building when I go for a stroll.

I have no emotional attachment to the hospital as I'm just not that kind of person, but I've got some memories there;

It's the place where I first saw my nephew, Valentijn, after he was just born, the place where I delivered my excrement twice, and where they stole my blood once.

And where, while doing psychedelic truffles with my friend, we got stranded on a bench because my friend was losing his mind. His father called an ambulance (even though we could've just walked). While waiting, I stared at the hospital, trying to stay sane.

I could lie and tell you this painting is about my memories. But it's not.

The extraordinary hospital, when it gets dark, shines beautifully. And that's the only reason why I decided to paint it.

If it reminds me of anything, it's all the sick people in there, some of them barely surviving or coming to the end of their lives as you're reading this. 

You might be able to make a parallel to some of Jeroen Bosch his paintings if you'd like, but instead, I let the building itself entertain me.

Mushrooms

Mushrooms are, and have always been, something I enjoy finding whenever I do. They seemingly seem to hide for the better part of the year until someday you go outside, and for some reason, anywhere you look, there they are.

They're frankly fascinating organisms. I don't know much about them and don't care to learn more. But from the little I understand, and simply their appearances, they stand out from other organisms, seemingly all being weird alien creatures.

However, if you think hard enough, anything becomes bizarre because it is. So that doesn't mean much anyway.

Stressful dreams

Anxiety is my only friend that follows me anywhere I go. Whenever I have to do something social that I haven't done before (or just not in a while), like the heroic task of going to an unfamiliar store or calling someone I don't know, there's this familiar but forever unpleasant, anxious feeling.

But recently, for seemingly no reason, this anxious feeling is constantly present. Any stress is more stressful, and any otherwise relaxing moments, I'm still on edge, feeling like I forgot something crucial.

When it started, every time I went to bed, I hoped I would wake up the next day feeling normal again.

However, in recent nights, there hasn't been much hope, just fighting my brain to get to sleep. When I finally win the debate and doze off, the anxiety follows me, even in my dreams.

Clocks

During the workweek, I work a couple of very long days so that my weekends last longer. Any hour I spend making art, I need to waste at least 30 minutes, so having a lengthier weekend makes it easier to get art done. 

Now, for some reason, when I finally make it to the end of the week, I mostly spend it doing nothing satisfying: playing games or watching videos. Don't get me wrong, I get some art done, but I could accomplish much more.

I might as well merely sit in a chair, looking at a wall of clocks, where anytime I look at a different one, hours zoom by, wasted doing nothing but thinking: ""I should stop wasting my time."" Knowing I won't.

Cold White Guy

I'm a Dutch guy, so Dutch that if they analyzed my heritage, they would have to invent new terminology to define my Dutchness. If you didn't know, we Dutch people are generally very white, which is also true for me.

Walking is a big part of my life. I couldn't live like this at all in a lot of other (flawed) cities, but here in the great Den Bosch, I generally get by.

It's been pretty cold, not historically, but relative to the rest of the year. I maybe prefer the cold, as now, I never really get hot and sweaty during my walks, but it does mean I get cold.

Recently, during a walk, I looked down at my hands and noticed they were very pink, obviously from the cold, which I've witnessed maybe a couple hundred times in my lifetime. 

And I never really thought much about it. So I must've been desperate for art ideas, seeing as I wrote this one down. But it's an interesting idea and had me wondering what similar experiences others have that I won't ever share.

Kees van Dongen

Only Light In Window

This time of year is so dark here. I thought the shortest day of the year was a month before it was. I made the same mistake last year. And again, when I realized we would have another month of ever shorter days, it made me incredibly sad.

Regardless, something I now realize I've missed in the summer months is that in the dark world, the lightest parts are the insides of houses.

I might have missed this because I don't go outside that much when it's late, so I don't see the darkness in the summer, or because during the summer, people have a lot of time to realize it's getting dark, so they often close their blinds, and somehow they forget to do it when it's dark earlier.

The result is that now, during my walks, I get to look around and see all the fascinating rooms inside all the buildings. 

Bird On Ledge

I don't remember when, but at some point, during some walk, I must've seen some birds on a ledge and thought: 'Now that's a sight I must replicate in my art.'

My sister swears that it was during a walk we went on together. To make her feel special, I told her it was true. Frankly, I don't remember, and often, I need to be alone to get any ideas, so I doubt it.

It's not like my ideas are that deep. They're mainly just ordinary things. But when I put myself in a specific mindset, these typical things make me feel something, so I write them down to work on later. 

And when I start working on those ideas, I regularly forget why I wanted to draw them and how it made me feel. That's fine because I wrote it down, which means that it must be an idea worth developing.

This piece is about a bird on a ledge, looking over a larger landscape. I would love to join the bird and experience the sight.

Easter Island

Stoned Party

I used to get stoned a lot. Nowadays, I'm sober, but I doubt I'm completely over it yet. Regardless, I don't go to many parties, and the ones I did go to, naturally, I would get stoned at. 

Parties are just an excuse for people to get high on whatever substances,  feeling like they're not addicted because they only do so when at parties.

Part of the reason I don't see a reason to go to parties is that I'm not sure if there's any benefit to getting high with people around you over getting high alone.

So, I would choose to get high on my own. I can only imagine that other people get something from the social interactions that I don't. Or maybe it exclusively is that they don't want to feel bad about their drug habits.

But this painting isn't about any of that at all. It's just that Moai reminded me of being at some of those parties. Man, I love Moai. They convey such emotion I can look at them for ages.

The Addict

Being addicted is nice. I like being addicted. It makes life easier. Instead of constantly working to do something meaningful, I can relax and waste my time.

At the end of the day or week, I think about where all my time went. I'll realize that I wasted so much time again and think: "I should spend less time doing these useless things. So I can focus on what makes me happy".

Then, the next time I can spend my time better, I'll choose not to because I prefer not to work to do something significant. No, what makes me happy is to waste my time.

End Of The City

"Everything ends, though hard to identify, even cities do, but it's easy to tell that one of my favorite walking spots is on the edge. 

It's not the most peaceful spot in the surrounding area, but probably the quietest while still, maybe technically so, inside of the city. 

There's this great perspective on the beautiful city of Den Bosch, with just before it a highway bringing many people anywhere they need to go. At the same time, if you turn your head, you see this endless sight of birds and green. Which likely isn't inside the city anymore. Who cares about borders anyway? To me, it's the most meaningful part of the city.

And then I get bored and go to the ugly but functioning neighborhood not too far away, happy to be back and to see the many ugly and angry faces."

Balloon In Tree

"Another cold day. It's not even that late, and the sun is gone already. The sun hides away before the day even starts this time of year. It's pretty peaceful out here. 

It was a Thursday, so I ate with my parents. My baby nephew, who they care for, was as loud as always. I taught him some guitar today, but I don't think he gets it yet. 

Finding what to say to my parents when I'm there is always hard. Seeing them makes me happy anyway, but sometimes it's easier to talk about nothing to strangers than to my parents. Maybe it's because I don't want to waste time on stupid topics with my parents, which doesn't leave much else.

Walking is great. Wherever I go, as long as it's reasonable, I walk. My bike also doesn't work, and public transport isn't for me, so I don't have a choice but to love it either.

So, with everything on my mind, I walked back home in the peaceful, cold, sunless world. I was almost home and pretty tired when I decided to look up, where I noticed two balloons in a tree. 

Can you imagine being one of those balloons? All you want to do is go up and travel great distances, but there you are, stuck, until maybe the wind helps you out, too far up for anyone else to reasonably get you out."

Coach's Garbage Containers

"When I quit playing basketball, I had played half my life. One afternoon, I realized that the sport cost more effort than I could care to put in. And as I do when I conclude somewhere or with something, I left the game behind: I haven't touched a basketball since or talked to anyone I used to play with. 

A couple of coaches trained me over the years, and honestly, I mostly don't remember them or what they taught me. Whatever it was, it certainly isn't that helpful anymore. 

But, probably my favorite coach, maybe the best, is whose garbage containers this painting is about.

It's pretty interesting, though also very obvious and predictable, how you can meet people you've known in the past in unexpected ways. I hadn't thought about him in years and certainly didn't expect to meet him again.

So apparently, my old coach is an artist who painted these garbage containers, which happened to be on this street I travel past quite often. 

And now, every time I walk by, I take a good look and think about my old coach and basketball, all the people I played with, and how one day, like the sport, I might drop any art I do as well.

The art has meaning, which I connect with, but the context about who created it and how it relates to me inspired me to make something of my own."

My instruments

"Creating any art requires some instrument, I think, and possibly, partially, because of that is why there's such a fascination with instruments from artists. 

Some instruments are also just fun objects to portray. Some companies have good logos, but the branding of pianos and certain guitars is incredible, so much so that merely glancing at them makes you want to play.

In this case, looking around my room made me want to paint the instruments I sometimes, but not often enough, use to make music. There's something to portraying one art form with another."

Highway

"Humans spend so much time on highways in cars, going to many places, and most often coming back too. While on the road, the perspectives are fascinating but repetitive. But if you're wasting your time away, traveling huge distances, you might as well enjoy whatever repetitive sights you find.

Convincing yourself that the tedious elements of life are fascinating is a superpower that I wish I could tap into more often.

But honestly, now that I don't live with my parents anymore, being in cars is a rarity, let alone being on highways. If I do happen to travel, it's often by train, but I mostly don't go anywhere.

So this painting is more about my perspective when I walk past the highway at the edge of Den Bosch, gazing into the endless roads, enviously thinking about the countless people going by, many of whom I might never see again, who are riding their cars going to many fascinating, or so I presume, places and coming back."

Janis Joplin

"What a voice. 

It's difficult not to be somewhat mad, although this is very selfish, at all the great artists that died so soon considering all the art we might've had but never will, can you imagine what else Jimi Hendrix, the Doors or Basquiat, could've done? 

When thinking about Janis as well, it's hard not to think about how her life ended and how she suffered throughout, which is maybe unfortunate as there was much more interesting about her.

Still, I think she is unique in that she wasn't that conventionally attractive, which is often very important for anyone famous, but especially for notable women. No, what made her so prevalent was her voice and writing, and deservedly so.

I don't know her, and I'll never know her, so my understanding of who exactly she was is incredibly limited. From what I know, and this can also be intuited by her passing, there was a lot of sadness, but she presented as a friendly and happy person.

And that's what I wanted to capture: the happy Janis, with a large mouth from which came a crazy volume, singing about what interested her, smoking a cigarette, like she often did."

Beautiful Boring LIfe

Like everyone, I'm addicted to keeping myself entertained, meaning I almost always have some video and music playing. Even that often isn't enough, so I also frequently find myself scrolling through social media. 

I like walking, it's another good way to keep myself busy, though even while walking I'm always listening to something. Sometimes, often but not always, while sitting on a bench or during a walk, I remove my headphones, and I sit, look, and listen.

And it makes me feel some weird way that I don't know how to explain, but the best I can do is to call it the beauty of our boring lives.

Parent With Child

I'm not very sentimental, or maybe I simply don't want to be.

So when I saw a woman with her child in a cargo bike, and I thought about my parents, how they carried me around the world for so long, and how now they don't. That wasn't me being sentimental: some things in this world are good, interesting, universal ideas that require capturing, which I did.

Honestly, I'm happy to be independent from my parents, and they're probably glad that I can take care of myself. I love them, even if they, understandably so, radiate stress sometimes.

But I feel I should appreciate them more than I do. It's hard to find the time to spend with them (even though it's too easy to find the time to waste on useless dopamine machines). Even when I do, it's challenging to find good topics. So many things are not worth speaking about, and so many worthy things are easy to forget.

They, or probably me, 'deserve' that extra time though;

Because, so often, while working on my art, or I suppose, in general, I still feel like that kid in the cargo bike getting brought to where I need to go by my parents.

Tree In Field

While sitting on one of the great benches of Den Bosch, reality hit me; I was out of ideas for things to paint, which often happens as I paint a lot. 

Actually, honestly, I had already realized this at home, which was the cause of this particular walk. It took this bench to inspire ideas, so I wanted to give it more credit.

Nonetheless, after some time walking, I found a bench worthy of sitting and sat down. I documented six ideas over fifteen minutes of concentrated sitting. The two previous paintings were conceived here, and the next three ones will be, and obviously, this one was also.

This idea was about my surroundings at the time. I looked forward and noticed a lonely tree in this intensely large field. It wasn't a great or meaningful idea, but a good enough excuse to paint anyway, so I wrote it down. 

That's the 'meaning' of this piece: a beautiful tree in a massive field from a fascinating perspective that hopefully makes you feel some way.

Cute Cow

Some people think eating 'pets' like dogs and cats is wrong and eating cows is okay because cows aren't cute. They're wrong. Cows can totally be, and often are, pretty cute. Now, I'll still eat them, so you might consider me evil, but I'll take that as I could've been an evil hypocrite instead.

Pretty close to my house, in a field close to where a family get-together was once, there are a bunch of cute cows I wanted to capture. In actuality, the cows aren't really pink, and neither are the surroundings as portrayed. Even though it's nothing like reality, while looking at this piece, I can feel the wind through my hair and hear the cows communicate their blues.

The next time you walk by some cows, try to see the cuteness in them. In the same way you might for a cat or a cow, it shouldn't be difficult, and if it is you're probably merely biased.

Art inspired by the tranquil benches of Den Bosch. A testament to the beauty found in simple walks and the muse they provide. A homage to moments of reflection and creativity.

The Bench

Going for walks is one of the best hobbies I've got. It's undefeated not only because moving is healthy for a human (like me) but also because it's a great way to waste time, listen to music, and get ideas for art. 

There are many benches around Den Bosch with beautiful perspectives, or at least sights that have me convinced of their beauty, which is one thing I definitely do thank this city for.

Often while out and about I find myself sitting on one of those benches, with or without a piece of paper and a marker, looking at those beautiful sights. 

It's all meaningless and a waste of time, yet still mesmerizing and, more importantly, inspiring for my next piece of art I can waste even more time on.

This piece is dedicated to none specifically but all of those benches I've sat on before and will sit on in the future.

Art piece capturing the depths of anxiety and self-reflection. A portrayal of personal struggles amidst life's uncertainties. Does the title truly match the feeling?

Unending Anxiety

Anxiety has plagued my life, maybe more than is normal for a person. How could I know? It's possible now this is more true than ever. I definitely feel like I'm anxious consistently, with no end in sight. 

It's not a terrible life compared to many, maybe even most, people, but it's probably been the worst couple of months of my life. That might be a testament to how good I've got it, or maybe it's just that I don't want to feel like a loser.

Maybe it's just a stomach bug, then the title would be wrong, but the painting could still fit.

Artwork depicts Gaza during airstrikes; an impersonal view of war in the age of constant media. Can we truly understand?

Airstikes In Gaza

It would definitely be kinda egotistical to think I could have a unique take on this horrible conflict. Can't help but be inspired sometimes though. So to prevent myself from putting something stupid on paper I just painted what I saw. 

Pretty crazy how we basically can just see 24/7 footage of wars now. Fascinating to look at when you're as bored as me. While airstrikes were happening in Gaza I happened to be watching for a little bit. 

Weird how impersonal such a perspective is, but sympathy doesn't come easy for me anyway. So that's what I put to paper; a bunch of buildings, some with lights, even though electricity was cut, with a huge fire smoke coming from a building while missiles fly in the air,  there's something horrible happening, but can you actually see it?

Zen Dageraad's artwork draws from Albert King's song, featuring a unique guitar player and radiant woman amidst abstract hues. Perfect blend of music and art

The Hunter

Inspired by the evocative tunes of Albert King, Zen Dageraad paints a vivid image resonating with musical nostalgia. In the foreground, a fiery red representation of Albert King captivates with his yellow guitar, an unusual scope affixed, suggesting precision in every strum. Adding to the whimsical nature, King's locks flow in a vibrant shade of purple, complementing the adjacent figure. A woman, bathed in a rich red hue with similar purple tresses, graces the backdrop with a cheerful smile, as if dancing to the rhythm. The duo is artistically encased within abstract forms, painted in mesmerizing hues of blue, green, and green-blue, lending a surreal touch. With each brushstroke, Zen Dageraad tells a tale of passion, music, and admiration.

Zen Dageraad's evocative painting, inspired by Velvet Underground, depicts the internal struggle between emotion and reason in a captivating visual tableau.

Between Thought And Expression

Inspired by a poignant lyric from the Velvet Underground's "Some Kinda Love", Zen Dageraad brings to life the internal conflict many face between thought and outward expression. This evocative piece captures the struggle of navigating a dualistic mind: one part calm and rational, the other driven by anxiety. At the center, an intense purple head, filled with fiery red expression, confronts the viewer. Contrasted against this visceral emotion is a delicate pink heart cradled within the mind, hinting at the pure intentions often clouded by anxiety. This arresting tableau is set against a tranquil green-blue backdrop, resembling an enclosed space or 'room'. Through this, Zen Dageraad encapsulates the notion that while our thoughts and emotions may conflict, they are all housed within the same mental space.

Zen Dageraad's artwork captures self-reflection with a pointed gesture and bold colors. Dive into a world of introspection and challenge your perceptions.

Self Absorbed Loser

Conceived during a late-night spark of inspiration, Zen Dageraad crafts a provocative representation of self-reflection. The artwork features an irate, pink-hued figure, vivid against the backdrop of a blue-striped room, pointing directly at the observer. This accusatory gesture is heightened by the audacious yellow crown adorning the figure's head. While the subject remains ambiguous, the painting invites the viewer into a realm of introspection. Zen Dageraad's intention, subtly layered within, is to nudge the beholder to see themselves in the artwork; recognizing the inherent self-absorption that's woven into human nature. With a blend of humor and candidness, it serves as a mirror, compelling us to confront our own egos and assumptions.

Zen Dageraad captures the essence of a Doors lyric with a vivid portrayal of a dancing figure in a purple room, symbolizing the timeless power of music.

When The Music Is Over

Drawn from inspiration by a renowned track from the Doors, this art piece captures the raw emotion behind the lyric "when the music is over, turn out the lights." At the heart of the creation, a blue figure, bathed in a pink shadow, fervently dances beneath a luminous yellow beacon, suggesting that for some, music remains an unending force. The poignant sentiment suggests that life's essence can be found in the melodies and rhythms that resonate within us. Zen Dageraad, the artist, encapsulates this with the surrounding setting: a room painted in varying shades of deep purple. Each element, from the intricately shaded roof and walls to the contrasting floor levels connected by stairs, showcases the depths and dimensions of one's passion for music and life itself.

Zen Dageraad's artwork captures a poignant moment of a blue figure having its blood drawn. Evocative green shades set the tone for this personal narrative.

Stealing My Blood

In Zen Dageraad's evocative piece, a vibrant blue figure extends its arm in the bottom left, revealing vivid red veins leading to the bottom right. The poignancy is palpable as a blue hand emerges from the top right, grasping a needle that draws blood from the character. The contrast between the blue of the figure and the striking red of the blood is intensified against a background palette of varying green shades, representing a room with a singular window. The painting was borne from Zen Dageraad's personal experience, during a time when he was unwell for two months and underwent a blood test. Although the results indicated no health concerns, there existed an underlying sentiment of having blood taken seemingly in vain – a feeling of theft, perhaps, yet tinged with relief.

Experience the cold embrace of the pines in Zen Dageraad's painting inspired by Smog's song, enriched with whimsical colors and a nostalgic musical narrative.

In The Pines

Drawing inspiration from the musically rich soundscape of Smog's "In the Pines", artist Zen Dageraad ventures into a cold, mystical realm in his work. Although the exact narrative of the song remains a mystery to Zen Dageraad, its essence evoking images of a pine-laden escape, carries through in his artistry. The artist first crossed paths with the tune through a heartrending cover by Nirvana, "Where Did You Sleep Last Night", adding layers of historical and emotional context to this painting.

Amidst the soft, light blue backdrop, Zen Dageraad plants a thicket of pines with contrasting orange trunks and verdant leaves, symbolizing both tranquility and stark reality. A pink railroad whimsically cuts through, bearing a purple train with bright yellow wheels, a literal and figurative vehicle transporting viewers into the chilliness of the pines evoked in the song. The fusion of colors not only accentuates the cold but brings a surreal warmth, an homage to the tune's ambivalence.

Explore Zen Dageraad's poignant portrayal of enduring sickness, capturing the yearning for past vitality and the disquiet of bodily alienation.

Unpleasant body

In a profound reflection of enduring physical ailment, Zen Dageraad translates his disquiet into visual form. The painting materializes after two grueling months of illness, embodying the alienation and desperate yearning for prior vitality. It’s an earnest confrontation with the body, a domicile now unfamiliar and uncomfortable. A dissonance depicted through a purple figure, seated despondently above a green blob, symbolic perhaps of malaise or distorted self-image. The background cradles a lighter green square amidst a soothing pink, a stark contrast that might denote longing and the ceaseless confines of physicality.

The imagery resonates with the universal sentiment of longing for escape from a fleshly prison during lingering sickness, yet being inescapably tethered to it. Through an evocative palette and simple yet emotive shapes, Zen invites viewers into a visceral narrative, unveiling not just personal vulnerability but the shared, human endeavor to find ease amidst dis-ease.

Experience Zen Dageraad's depiction of overcoming unsettling times in his artwork, encapsulating a narrative of endurance amidst a personal health struggle.

Endless Bad Trip

Embarked on an arduous journey, the artwork captures the essence of an enduring tumult encapsulated by Zen Dageraad's recent health battle. Over a span of one and a half months, a relentless ailment gripped the artist, paving the way for this creation. The piece is an embodiment of the vexing feeling likened to an unending bad trip with an obscured finish line.

Central to this narrative is a pink figure, an embodiment of Zen, with distinctive blue hair, striding along a winding yellow path. This figure, with a hand placed contemplatively behind the head, advances forward, depicting an onward march amidst adversities. The vivid depiction doesn’t dive into deeper metaphorical trenches but narrates a straightforward tale of enduring unsettling times.

The surrounding presents a stark contrast with its dark-green field. It is accentuated by diminishing red circles spreading into the distance, perhaps metaphorical ripples of the enduring turmoil. This piece doesn’t seek to journey into profound depths but to narrate a simple, relatable chronicle of enduring and moving ahead, despite the unsettling phase.

Explore Zen Dageraad's evocative street scene, where colors narrate a tale of dusk, shadows and a solitary stroll, unfolding layers of soft nostalgia.

Street, Shadow

Embark on a serene yet evocative journey with Zen Dageraad's intimate portrayal of a simple, everyday moment transformed into a vivid narrative. His artwork invites you into a quiet street scene, where a solitary purple figure strides amidst the gentle embrace of a dusky street, its aura resonating with rich shades of green-blue. The figure casts a prominent dark green-blue shadow, hinting at the soft melancholy of dusk, an emotion that is tender yet profound.

As you delve deeper into the frame, your eyes are drawn upward towards a quaint red streetlight, delicately suspended by a crimson thread. The warm yellow glow emanates softly, caressing the cool hues of the surroundings, creating a gentle contrast. Beyond this immediate spectacle, a series of green buildings unfold in varying shades, skillfully layered to offer a comforting depth, enriching the narrative of a simple walk home post a family dinner.

In the seemingly mundane, Dageraad uncovers layers of reflection and soft nostalgia, his color palette rendering the fleeting moments of dusk with a tender longing that is palpable yet comforting.

Experience Zen Dageraad's tranquil landscape inspired by Miles Davis' melodies. Trees in vivid hues meet a vibrant sky. A poetic voyage to peace.

In A Silent Way

Journey into the depths of Zen Dageraad's artistry, a visual ode to the iconic rhythms of Miles Davis. Just as the notes of "In A Silent Way" carry listeners to far-off sanctuaries of tranquility, so does this artwork. Delve into the peaceful sanctuary of nature: trees with ethereal pink trunks and mystical purple leaves stand in graduated prominence. Foremost, a singular tree anchors the viewer, leading to another in the mid-ground, and further on, a distant row completes the triad. The leaves, masterfully segmented in varying shades, exude depth, enhancing the three-dimensional allure. A serene blue swath graces the foreground, flanked by verdant fields, intricately differentiated by shades. Ascend your gaze, and a warm yellow sky awaits, punctuated by fiery red clouds and the gentle flutter of birds. 

Zen Dageraad's artwork, inspired by Pink Floyd, melds surreal visuals with deep introspection on unspoken emotions & fleeting moments. Explore the profound narrative.

Drawing's Over Thought I Had More To Say

Inspired by the poignant lyrics from Pink Floyd's "Time," Zen Dageraad captures the profound feeling of fleeting moments and the sudden realization of unspoken emotions. Through subtle strokes, the essence of the song's words, "The time is gone, the song is over, Thought I'd something more to say," comes alive. The narrative further unfolds in the accompanying poem.

Visually, the artwork evokes a surreal setting. A green figure, representing Zen Dageraad himself, sits pensively on a yellow chair in a distinctly hued pink room, its dimensions playfully skewed. Multiple shades of pink embrace the walls, creating a sense of depth and contemplation. Amidst this captivating backdrop, the man's gaze is drawn towards a blue window, suggesting a world beyond - perhaps of thoughts left unsaid and feelings not fully expressed.

Zen Dageraad's art captures a resilient sandcastle amidst water, inspired by Jimi Hendrix. Unique shading and red elements enhance its dreamlike aura.

Castles Made Of Sand

Drawing inspiration from a song by the legendary Jimi Hendrix, Zen Dageraad presents a poignant representation of resilience and enduring creations. At the core of the artwork, a sandcastle stands tall, its compartments diverging in multiple directions and drenched in varying hues of yellow. This intricate castle sits atop a mosaic of sandy patches, each section uniquely shaded. The adjacent light blue waterway stretches into the distance, subtly caressing the sandcastle's base, providing a gentle juxtaposition to the land structure. Two scarlet boats float on this vast expanse; one noticeably distant from its counterpart, adding depth and perspective. Above, the sky, cloaked in a deeper shade of blue, harbors two unusual red clouds, further emphasizing the artwork's dreamlike quality. An accompanying verse subtly notes, "unlike most castles made of sand, jimmy, yours have not been flooded. Listen, they still stand," encapsulating the essence of timelessness.

Explore Zen Dageraad’s artistic narrative as he captures a serene moment of birds flying over the Sint Jan, blending poetic essence with color intricacy.

Birds Over The Sint Jan

Venture into an idyllic realm through Zen Dageraad's serene portrayal of the majestic Sint Jan amidst a charming atmosphere in Den Bosch. The art piece exquisitely encapsulates a fleeting moment, where a flock of birds whimsically graces the sky above the historical edifice. As articulated in the accompanying poem, this artwork resonates with the simplistic yet profound idea of capturing transient beauty whilst allowing it the freedom to flourish.

A glance at the piece unveils the artist's meticulous attention to detail, manifesting in the various shades of orange that intricately define the structure, contrasted against the blue that adorns the windows, door, clockwork, and cross. The nuanced palette extends to the environment as well with the yellow-bricked floor encircled by a touch of purple, under a green sky that harmoniously houses pink birds in flight.

Within this picture-perfect frame, the essence of the poem finds a visual counterpart. The narrative sketches a calm yet liberating scenario, “birds over the saint jan, I just had to capture the moment, still, they are free to keep flying,” resonating a tranquil symmetry between the poetic verse and the illustrative scene.

Discover the whimsical lights of Den Bosch through Zen Dageraad's artistic lens, painting a love poem of colors onto the crooked streets of this quaint city.

Den Bosch Her Lights

The enchanting allure of Den Bosch, vividly encapsulated by Zen Dageraad in his art piece, interweaves whimsy and a keen eye for the unique lighting that bathes the city. The narrative encapsulated within the visual splendor of the piece resonates poetically with the sentiments echoed in the verse, "i love den bosch / even more / whenever i am / looking up / & notice / the incredible lights / painting the town / & lighting / the crooked streets." Zen Dageraad's drawing delicately captures the essence of Den Bosch's crooked streets, illuminated by whimsical lights that dance across the quaint cityscape.

The piece unfolds a quaint scene, a labyrinth of red edifices leaning in disparate directions, adorned by a cascade of blue-green lights stretching from the bottom left to the center middle right. These illuminations, a yellow hue at the source, cast a gentle glow on the purple road below, contrasting beautifully with the variegated shades of green that make up the sidewalk. As one's gaze drifts upward, a soft pink sky segmented into abstract forms cradles fluffy blue clouds, also creatively subdivided. It's a poetic spectacle, a love letter to Den Bosch, that melds color, light, and structure into a visually resonant narrative, inviting one to explore the city's charming streets under the tender glow of its lights.

Experience the mystique of Zen Dageraad's artwork, where a serene bike path unfolds tales of psychedelic explorations and a journey towards the unknown.







Distant Figure

Embark on a visual journey along a mystical bike path depicted in Zen Dageraad's evocative art piece. This work immerses the observer in a serene yet eerie pathway located behind the Jeroen Bosch hospital in Den Bosch, as traversed by the artist frequently. The scenery, imbued with the spectral resonance of a past psychedelic adventure, unveils a distant figure marching towards a blue realm, embodying the haunting allure of the unknown. The narrative is enriched with a whimsical poem, a tribute to the path's natural psychedelic aura even in the absence of truffles, alluding to a memorable day of curious exploration turned awry.

The meticulous design employs a myriad of shades and shapes to engineer depth and perspective. A yellow path, methodically sectioned and shaded, guides one's sight towards a purple distant figure venturing into a blue enclave, evoking a sense of mystery and anticipation. Adjacent, the yellow-green grass and pink-trunked trees with verdant leaves exhibit a similar geometric technique, delivering a surreal yet grounded frame. A solitary red bench witnesses the scene, a silent testament to past experiences, as told through the prism of psychedelic truffles, friendship, and the unexpected voyage into the depths of consciousness.

The essence of transcendent discovery, the blend of cool and warm tones, alongside a narrative enriched by poetic reminiscence, makes this piece a profound exploration of reality and perception, perceived soberly or under an altered state.

Zen Dageraad's evocative artwork captures two blue geese on a winding road, set against a gradient pink canvas. Poetically described.

Geese On The Road Again

On a serene walk through the outskirts of Den Bosch, Zen Dageraad captures a poignant moment: two geese, one slightly darker than the other, sauntering along a winding yellow road. Oblivious to their vibrant blue hue, they move with purpose against a tapestry of contrasting shades of pink, which subtly graduate from a deep tone at the base to a soft pastel at the zenith. This road, outlined in a bold red, meanders from the bottom left, disappearing and re-emerging, creating a rhythmic dance across the canvas. Two trees, one with light green leaves and the other with a darker shade, provide an earthy balance with their orange branches.

Explore Zen Dageraad's vivid depiction of a contrasting world: from a desolate figure to soaring birds, encapsulating life's balance. Dive deep into its narrative.

Don't Worry Be Happy

Amidst a vibrant landscape, a solitary yellow figure with a somber red mouth and whimsical purple hair sits dejectedly. Its arms tucked behind its head in a pose of melancholy, this "poor yellow fellow" contrasts sharply with the uplifting message: "the song is right, great advice & very wise." Seated on an unstable red bench—one leg dangling in the air—it rests on a rich purple ground casting an ominous shadow. From this earth sprouts a vivacious orange flower, its petals painted a shade darker, signifying hope. Above, the light blue waters ripple, as three radiant orange birds fly freely. The scene transitions to blue-green terrain, where a lively orange figure strides confidently. This transitions into lush green grounds dotted with bushes, overshadowed by towering dark green trees. High above, a unique tree flourishes, its light green leaves adorned with yellow, purple, and red dots, all under a deep blue sky. Zen Dageraad's masterpiece prompts reflection on life's highs and lows.

Zen Dageraad's art captures the legacy of Mark Rothko, exploring the bond between artist & artwork. Poignant commentary on appreciation & context.

Love, Don't Kill The Artist

Capturing the essence of the relationship between the artist and their art, Zen Dageraad presents a poignant commentary on the legacy of artists. The piece juxtaposes a portrait of Mark Rothko, framed within a heart, with one of his iconic artworks, "Untitled (Blue Divided by Blue)," side by side on a wall. The vivid setting is painted in varying shades of red; from the lightest hue on the floor to the darker shades on the surrounding walls. A striking purple bench sits on the ground, casting a deep red shadow, flanked by a green door and window.

Inspired by a personal conversation about Picasso's sketches and how context influences art appreciation, the piece delves into the paradoxical nature of artists' lives and legacies. Rothko's intent to "kill the artist" culminated tragically in his own death. Yet, the art remains, and in part because of his tragic end, it is now extremely popular.

Explore Zen Dageraad's evocative artwork—a blend of history and color in Den Bosch, where walls, windows, and nature tell a poignant tale.

Windowless

Amidst the historical aura of Den Bosch, an arresting sight emerges: a tall, majestic purple wall, interrupted solely by a green-blue door. This door, distinct with its three tints of green-blue and a wheelchair ramp, is an emblem of accessibility amidst solitude. Adjacently, another dark purple wall reveals a trio of colored windows—blue at the top, green in the middle, and orange at the base. Mirroring this, yet another wall showcases windows with lights matching these colors, each revealing a unique scene within.

To the left, a dark red fence atop a ledge, borders a serene body of water. In it, a boat—shaded in gradients of orange—floats. Nearby, a verdant patch of land cradles a tree, its leaves a symphony of three greens. A yellow checkers pattern surrounds the door, outlined in pink, just as every element in the piece. Zen Dageraad, through his art, captures the juxtaposition of inspiration and history, where the erstwhile confinements become today's muse.

Dive into Zen Dageraad's vibrant homage to rock legends, Hendrix and Morrison, through a Picasso-inspired psychedelic blues guitar scene. Explore now!

Psychedelic Blues

Immerse yourself in Zen Dageraad's mesmerizing representation of rock nostalgia and cubist influence. The centerpiece of the work is a large guitar, its blue hues ranging from dark outlines to a lighter body, emanating an ethereal quality. It stretches across the scene, its top barely visible, three vivid green strings cutting through its form, resonating with an unsung melody.

The backdrop reveals four walls, two darker and two lighter shades of green, playing with perceptions of space and depth. A yellow window punctuates the left wall, with a radiant pink sun painting everything in its path with a blush streak. The sun's psychedelic effects capture the essence of an era defined by the likes of Hendrix and Morrison, their music echoing in the silence of the room.

The central wall houses a purple door, a nod to the mystical and the unknown, a symbol of the Doors that initially sparked Dageraad's inspiration. Drawing from Picasso's 'Le vieux guitariste aveugle', the artwork invites the viewer into a realm where legendary musicians never grow old, their music forever resonating within the confines of this vibrant space.

Experience Zen Dageraad's art: A brilliant portrayal of anxiety in a gentle encounter. Colors and lines blend, revealing vulnerability's nuanced narrative.

Still Anxiety

Immerse yourself in Zen Dageraad's exquisite exploration of human vulnerability and anxiety, encapsulated through this remarkable artwork. The narrative unfolds on a simple path, where two entities cross; a cheerful figure greets with a wave and a smile, mirrored in hues of light to dark blue. A seeming non-threat, yet this interaction invokes an unsettling response in the other figure.

The second character's reaction embodies the artist's personal interpretation of anxiety, expressed as a Scream-inspired visage; light blue terror morphing into darker tones of dread, magnifying the metaphorical punch that transforms a smile into a source of anxiety.

The path they tread, starting from the bottom right, sways left before a rightward curve, disappearing into a deep purple forest. An orange sign, adorned with a forward-pointing arrow, accentuates the singular direction of their journey. Surrounding this path, you'll find three trees with teal leaves and two distinctive purple lakes, adding serene complexity to the vivid tableau.

The striking color palette continues with the sky and ground, brushed in gradients of red, complemented by the outlines in bold yellow, adding a profound sense of depth. Zen Dageraad's ingenuity is reflected in his ability to transform a peaceful scenario into a vivid depiction of distress, prompting a profound introspection on how the seemingly benign can sometimes be a source of disquiet.

Zen Dageraad's latest art piece – a vibrant visualization of a tree, inspired by his walks while absorbing the ambient music of Robert Fripp & Brian Eno.

Eno And Fripp

Experience the profound connectivity between music, nature, and visual art in Zen Dageraad's newest piece. Inspired by the atmospheric harmonies of renowned musicians, Robert Fripp and Brian Eno, this piece materializes the euphoria of audial exploration into a vivid visual voyage.

Zen Dageraad's artwork captures the meditative experience of a peaceful stroll through the 'Bosche Broek' in Den Bosch, anchored by a magnificent tree whose leaves rise from the ground. Just as Fripp and Eno's compositions possess a universal appeal, the artist reflects the simplicity and greatness of the tree through intricate detail and bold colors.

At the heart of the art are branches painted in lively red, accented by shadowing purple lines that deepen where they intersect. The leaves, adorned with an array of pink, orange, light blue, dark blue, and dark green dots, contrast their light green background. Bathed in a sea of dark green, light green, and light blue dots against a dark blue expanse, the piece bears the signature, date, and number in vibrant hues of pink and orange.

Art, like music, is an enigma; it isn't always meant to be understood but simply felt. As this piece is a mirror to Zen Dageraad's musical inspirations, the journey may resonate differently for each viewer, akin to a psychedelic trip.

Discover Zen Dageraad's color-rich interpretation of a quirky sight in Den Bosch. A playful mingling of hues creates a visually captivating story.

Feet Out A Window


Stroll through Zen Dageraad's vividly hued portrayal of an unusual sight in the charming town of Den Bosch, brought to life in distinctive colors. The artwork is dominated by a pair of yellow feet, etched with darker outlines, playfully dangling from an open window. The window sits amidst a building's facade, painted in soothing tones of light and dark red, contrasting against the surrounding vibrant pink and darker pink backgrounds.

The room beyond the open window is a serene light blue, with a striking orange lamp casting an intriguing hue on all objects within its reach. Two window panes, colored with light green, add a refreshing contrast, flanked by two closed windows adorned with a darker green backdrop.

The artwork resonates with the weirdly out-of-the-ordinary experience of finding such an unexpected sight on a calm Sunday morning. A unique spectacle captured in a whimsical fusion of color, portraying Den Bosch's diverse spirit.

Immerse in Zen Dageraad's captivating art, merging color and symbolism. Drawn from Den Bosch's flower fields, it beckons interpretation and awe.

Flowerfield

Immerse yourself in Zen Dageraad's alluring exploration of color and symbolism. Strolling near the Dieze in Den Bosch, Zen Dageraad chanced upon a vibrant field of flowers. Their beauty stirred his creativity, inspiring him to capture their essence in a poignant illustration. The art features eight flowers, each symbolizing a thought, an emotion, still open to interpretation.

Drawing on a palette of green, blue, pink, and orange, Zen Dageraad delineates each flower with striking contrasts. The green and blue flowers boast outlines that cast blue and green shadows respectively, filled with bold splashes of orange and pink. Similarly, the pink and orange flowers bear vivacious outlines of orange and pink shadows, their cores filled predominantly with blue and green.

The background, though a mélange of all these colors, is dominated by varying shades of purple, setting a mesmerizing contrast against the vibrant blooms. From a soft lilac at the top to a rich purple at the bottom, the gradient forms a stunning backdrop for the symbolic eight.

Explore Zen Dageraad's vibrant artwork, stirring emotion with a poignant city encounter. A colorful, introspective journey layered with social commentary.

Too Early For Pro-Beggars

Discover the emotional depth and vibrant imagination of Zen Dageraad with his captivating artwork inspired by a unique urban encounter. Early morning tranquility is cleverly juxtaposed against the usually bustling city life. The absence of an habitual figure, a 'professional' beggar, stirs unexpected curiosity and introspection within the observer.

Zen's masterpiece is a compelling blend of vivid colors and rich textures. The dominant image, a pink head intricately detailed using four shades of pink and defined by a bold, dark red outline, brings an intense, raw emotion to the piece. The figure's closed eye and resting posture on two 'hands', clenched in a familiar stance of plea, add a hint of vulnerability and an air of quiet resignation.

The background paints a soft contrast, where hues of yellow, green, and blue invite tranquility. Zen Dageraad's art not only engages viewers visually but also provides a poignant social commentary, echoing through the accompanying verse. This poem gracefully explores the introspective dialogue stirred by the missing beggar's absence, further enhancing the narrative of the art.

Immerse in Den Bosch's tranquil charm with Zen Dageraad's art of Moerputtenbrug, fusing vivid hues and poetic storytelling. Discover daybreak's enchantment.

Moerputtenbrug

Zen Dageraad invites you on a tranquil journey to the heart of Den Bosch, through his immersive artwork featuring the Moerputtenbrug, an iconic landmark surrounded by natural beauty. Bathed in the soft glow of dawn, the bridge stands majestic and serene in hues of vibrant yellow and a soothing palette of oranges, as if personifying the stillness of an early morning in a nature reserve.

From the bottom left corner, your eyes are drawn to the curving bridge, guiding you to the top right. The orange railings and pillars, darker on one edge, gracefully descend into the surrounding water, enhancing the depth of the scene. A subtle purple border encapsulates the entire vista, tying together the elements with a flourish of color.

In the distance, lush green trees rise, their vivid trunks casting playful reflections on the water, subtly tinted a darker shade under the bridge, and a brighter green under the foliage. The scene is completed with a sprinkle of green water lilies that adorn the water surface, a silent testament to the region's rich ecology.

The artwork, with its intricate detailing and thoughtful composition, echoes Zen Dageraad's poignant sentiment beautifully captured in his poem, a tribute to the beloved Moerputtenbrug. Each line resonates with the profound tranquility and age-old charm the landscape exudes, encapsulating the essence of what it feels like to be the first visitor on a peaceful morning.

Embark on Zen Dageraad's ethereal journey, a white bridge embracing a kaleidoscope of nature's melody. Surrender to serenity in vivid strokes.

White Bridge

Immerse yourself in the serene realm of Zen Dageraad's art piece, where the essence of tranquility is encapsulated in vivid colors and familiar scenes. The main subject, a radiant white bridge adorned with soft pink borders, stretches from left to right across the piece, a harmonious contrast to the effervescent greens enveloping it. The artist has added a body of water, absent from the original perspective but significant to the piece's allure. Shades of blue with dark lines, and strikingly, two red lines, mirror the bridge above and the world around it.

Surrounding the bridge are trees of varied green hues, their pink trunks standing stark yet beautiful against the landscape. A unique touch by Dageraad, they diminish in size the farther they ascend the piece, with one partially concealing the bridge. The diversity of greens extend to a bush bordered with purple, intriguingly concealing a portion of the bridge view. The ground itself is a blend of blue-green, shadowed by the bridge and trees.

Every element mirrors the poem's narrative - a white bridge, a world more vibrant around it, and an artist's creative liberty of 'untroubled water'. It's not just a drawing, but a gateway to a peaceful place 'near my house', where 'the grass is greener', 'the trees and bushes are greener too', and 'the colors more brilliant'.

Discover Zen Dageraad's stunning interpretation of Mac Demarco's 'You're Out', an artwork laden with emotional depth, vibrancy, and a tale of regret's futility.

You're out

Delve into the exquisite visual narrative crafted by Zen Dageraad, an embodiment of Mac Demarco's song 'You're Out.' Focusing on the theme of regret's futility, Zen Dageraad brings to life an emotionally charged scene. A lone figure, ensconced in a bed of layered green hues, stares into oblivion. Their surrounding environment, a bedroom painted in variegated shades of red, sets the mood for deep introspection. The poignant details of purple bed lines and orange drawers, encased within bold red borders, provide a stunning contrast.

In the corner of the room, a window serves as the canvas for a larger, piercing eye, its blue-green panes reflecting an exterior world. Through the strokes of Zen Dageraad's brush, an element of voyeurism comes alive as the eye gazes upon the scene, intensifying the melancholy. The presence of a nearby lamp casting yellow light subtly adds depth, bathing all in its warm glow and outlining the existing elements.

The brilliance of Zen Dageraad's work lies in its ability to portray an ordinary moment with extraordinary emotion and depth, echoing the poignant words, 'you’re out, you might as well face it & take it lying down.' Each color, shade, and line in the artwork furthers the narrative of the scene, making it a heartrending visual poem of acceptance, regret, and quiet introspection.

Zen Dageraad captures The Beatles' surreal lyricism through art - a laughing, tearful walrus, a hidden sun, an empty road in layered reds.

The Walrus

In the vibrant fusion of lyrical narrative and iconic imagery, Zen Dageraad uncovers the enigmatic profundity within the absurd. Reflecting the lyrical genius of The Beatles, a distinctive walrus takes center stage. Adorned in a modern Nike tee, it seems to laugh, yet its gaze averts, hinting at an unspoken melancholy. Tears well up, echoing the repeated refrain of 'I am crying' from the song that inspired the piece.

Yet the scene ventures beyond the titular walrus. An obscured sun, cloud-shrouded, implies an additional identity, again drawn from the poignant words of John Lennon. Tucked quietly into the background, a vacant road waits with patient desolation, embodying the anticipation for an absent van.

In his characteristic style, Zen Dageraad employs a trio of red hues to create a depth that hums quietly beneath the surface, the backdrop to this multisensory composition. Thus, the artwork is more than a visual display; it's a cryptic journey, an exploration of identity in the face of absurdity, captured masterfully.

Unravel Zen Dageraad's art - a surreal take on Patto's 'The Man', rendered in shifting shadows and skewed perspectives. A cryptic visual tale.

I Saw The Man

Immersed in the emotional ambiguity of the melody by Patto called "The Man", Zen Dageraad has masterfully materialized the unseen into a visual treat titled with an elusive number, evoking intrigue. The art piece echoes a narrative, sparked by a song seemingly about hidden vices and unspoken social truths, unraveling an enigmatic encounter.

The duality of the song finds expression in the dichotomy of two central figures. The protagonist is closer, while the elusive 'man', possibly a symbol for a drug dealer or government, hovers in the backdrop. This clever representation of distance paints a vivid picture of the relationship between them, ambiguous yet profound.

Illuminated by two separate lanterns, each character casts a peculiarly colored shadow, enhancing the surrealism and metaphoric depth of the piece. A solitary cloud and a flower make their presence, while an unusual color palette skews perspective, creating an immersive experience that echoes the song's ambiguity and Zen's adoration for it.

Size	Price
A6	€ Contact for price
A5	€ Contact for price
A4	€ 125
A3	€ 225
A2	€ 350

Some of my art is for sale, they've been marked as 'for sale'

Pricing information for buying an original artwork

Fill in to purchase some cool art

This is for sale