Dub in the Dam

Surveillance

2011-10-14T12:17:00.000+02:00

A picture paints a 'probably' Dutch lady of Moroccan decent rounding a corner on the left, camera in hand, cautious eyes with olive skinned beauty - bright in the sun. On the opposite side a Dutch couple of whiter decent stroll down a lane. He, with mobile in hand, glances intently through the café window. It beacons cosyness or gezelligheid. Constantly searching for that gezelligheid is the great pursuit.

Look upwards and you will catch a CCTV camera dangling from a lamp post, forever filming the tourists and skinny junkies that wander by. In Holland caution is a frequented manner of greeting, people should first be scanned. In conversation, eye contact is minimal but surveillance is practical. That's what I see.

Apples and oranges

2011-09-07T12:25:00.000+02:00

Look closely at this image, click again and you may see what I see. It was taken recently in Eindhoven in the south of The Netherlands a few hours prior to a football match. For me, two things jump out. A state of casual ease coupled with an undercurrent tension.

The abundant draping of orange by a broad section of society for a relatively minor football match (San Marino was the intended victim) is indicative of the nationalistic fervor the Dutch exude. The score was equally excessive,11-0, no prizes for guessing who won.

In Holland everyone wears a uniform, it's usually a, "look at me, I'm not wearing a uniform - uniform". Conformity is king and the 'casual look' is the fashion at court. They have 'oh' so many uniforms. Businessmen are sometimes referred to as "Blue Blazers", wearing cargo pants with suede shoes and god forbid, "Don't ever wear a tie"! Whole platoons of them will be seen, all wearing their uniforms together with 'casual' screamed loudly like a Sargeant Major.

This easy way of being, at first sight, greatly impresses the foreign observer but as truth dawns, you see a tense underlay. The Dutch are relaxed and casual because they have a practical society that takes care of most problems. But a tension comes from an unspoken pressure to be always normal. It's all very tiring. "We are here because we want to be, we are this way because it's a good way to be, we like it, nobody tells us how to be".

Not so unfortunately. There is a vicious collective rumour telling the Dutch how to be Dutch, and it assures them that it's really a way that they choose to be as independent individuals. And they believe this, they believe it so strongly that it can only be the surest form of denial. To be like everyone else and totally independent at the same time - is their greatest paradox.

A stone

2011-08-31T15:44:00.002+02:00

Pictured above is my most prized possession. It doesn't even qualify as a stone, just a hunk of concrete. It sits on my balcony surrounded by more attractive objects, but none so relevant.

Shortly after arriving in Amsterdam in 1998 I began working in a busy ad agency in the city center. After a gruelling day at the Mac I would often stop at a coffeeshop homeward bound. It's still there on the Oude Hoogstraat, 'Pick up the Pieces' it's called. Sometimes I would smoke a joint, others not, but would always meet friendly colourful international types and chat with the staff who became good friends over the years.

Holding the door open to release the weary workers from plumes of marijuana was a large piece of concrete. After many months I inquired about it's peculiarity, it some how beckoned significance. I was told that indeed it was a very special piece of cement. The owner of the café was Kishore, an Indian Surinamer who also owned a hotel in Schneverdingen that was frequented by Germans seeking respite and recreation on the adjacent sandy beaches. As the first frantic images appeared on TV from the collapse of the wall, he was spurred on by his loyal Saxony guests to seize the moment and drive instantly to Berlin and be part of something monumental.

The block that held the door wide was the souvenir. To be precise it is half a block. Occasionally I would pop by the café to renew old acquaintances and on one such visit I noticed the chunk of history was no longer. I gawped, "where's the wall gone?". It had split in half and lost the required gravity to keep the door ajar. "What did you do with the shattered remains?", I asked. Johnnie the nephew of the proprietor, walked over to an electric meter cabinette, opened it and there they lay, two broken halves like a young lover's pendant heart. He gave me one of the blocks and so it found a new home.

Poignant enough as a story, permit me to go further. I once pointed out its significance to a visitor, he sceptically commented, "How do you know it's actually a piece of the Berlin wall"? I assured him of its provenance and how its giver was a good friend of sound credentials. My visitor gawked at me with distrust, bewilderment and even contempt. He was such a man, but the giver, like the stone itself, is a tribute to the wonder of life. Thank you Johnnie and Kishore, it will stay with me until my very death and inevitable freedom.

Brown Café

2011-08-29T12:53:00.001+02:00

A café bedecked in all things dark brown umber. Sounds depressing? Sometimes it can be. It is a uniquely Dutch phenomenon. The colour of brown is adopted in the Netherlands as old Protestants once adorned themselves in black. Practical, reverent and clerical. By comparison the warmth of the reddish tone is almost indulgent.

I think back to childhood days in my fathers pub, where dark hues suited well the sticky mess of spilled Guinness and billowed nicotine. In Holland the Brown Café is an art form, each premises carefully replicating a non-existing time and place somewhere in the past. Today's commercial interior designer can choose any type of fitting and carpentry from weighty catalogues to meet the wishes of his 'food and drink' retail client. The Dutch are in no need of such catalogues. Once their houses looked the same, but today people are more likely to put Ikea in there living rooms with the wooden patina being left behind at the café on the corner.

Over the last decade many proprietors choose a modern Milano look, rarely it works, the stark white clean lines that begin crisp and fresh start to look cheap and tacky after a couple of years. Some smart thinkers choose to combine the two looks often resulting in charming eclectic interiors that serve leafed mint tea and squeezed orange juice.

I often get asked, "Do I go to Irish Pubs in Amsterdam?". Yes, I do. But I much prefer the Brown Cafés, they to me are the equivalent. I sometimes say to clients, "it's all about authenticity, be what you are, walk your talk". These places, although merely constructed in theme, have authenticity. It is the people who go there that make it so. The subject is worthy of a lengthy thesis, but put simply, going to a brown café is like returning to your mothers womb and who amongst us at sometime in our life has not wanted to just crawl back in.

"No dogs....".

2011-08-18T13:31:00.012+02:00

I am an Irishman who has lived his entire adult life abroad. I'm a European, with youthful times spent in London and Amsterdam. Strangely, I have never traveled outside the Eurozone, not intentionally, but as I love to backpack at short notice in the mountains, I usually end up in places like the Alps or the Pyrenees.

I hope to journey to America and India some day, but I'm still intrigued by how varied and complex Europe can be. How it's many wonderful cultures continue to inspire and inform. These experiences make one feel obliged to vent opinion as an Irish European. Succinctly put, I'm sickened by the steady increase in nationalistic far-right anti-immigrant 'drivel' by some of my fellow Europeans, particularly as an Irishman who's countrymen suffered the same prejudices in previous centuries. "No dogs, No Blacks, No Jews, No Irish"!

I'm not writing about politics here, there is no far-right political debate happening in Europe, there are crude childish prejudices being spluttered in the name of politics. I write at a time where self-designated political and social figures seem to think it's okay to 'debate' the far-right, showcasing it as something other than juvenile rantings. Presenting their observations as intelligent understandings of complex sociology. This frustrates me. I'm not surprised that the conformist and privacy obsessed Dutch people try to embarrassingly blame their own social shortcomings on a Muslim community while they can't even say, "hello", to their 'white' neighbors.

I'm not worried that the English, French or Italians have difficulties with huge increases of immigrants to their countries in recent decades, that the Russian's (yes they are Europeans too!) are still screwed-up over Stalin. I'm not even concerned by the divided Belgians (those crazy Dutch flaming again!), the contrary in fact. Without government for over a year now, things are doing just fine! If anything the blessed Belgians show us precisely how overrated any government actually is.

"Fear of change, marginalized, threats of globalization, rise of homophobia, loss of national identity, regional power struggles"..... just catchy slogans thrown around by our politicians and journalists who haven't got the balls to tell their brothers and sisters to stop whinging like a bunch of spoiled little brats. Suddenly they care that the Church they never went to, will be replaced by a Mosque, or that the healthy Bio-vegetables they increasingly crave are hand-picked by Lithuanians on a cold and frosty morning!

I'm an Irish European and anybody, from anywhere, who wants to go anywhere in Europe and do anything that is remotely within the realms of the law, is cordially welcomed to do so...and anybody who thinks otherwise, should just grow-up or go live on an island. These are my intelligent prejudices and not so informed politics.

what to do on Sunday's

2011-08-09T15:17:00.006+02:00

Fr. Leo Nedersticht, now that's a good Dutch name. Whilst busy with preparations for my marriage some ten years ago, I hastily called around looking for a Catholic priest to give a blessing at my civil ceremony. This was met with distain by my first contact, promptly being told by the cleric, "we don't do that sort of thing". An alternative phone number was privided and I was informed, "you need to call Fr. Leo".

"That's the man for me", I thought. A priest with a reputation, I liked him even before we'd met in person. And, he lived up to his reputation. It was a fantastic ceremony with blessings given by both himself and a Buddhist friend, with an equally charismatic civil servant putting on a crowd cheering performance as if not to be outdone by the traditionalists.

We lost contact over the years, as happens, but returned home from vacation to hear his warm voice on the answer machine. He came for lunch a couple of weeks ago, we enjoyed his company as if only parted for a few months. My wife offered to play harp at his service on Sunday and we duly attended both of his churches, a common thing for short staffed parishes these days.

As I stood outside the church with a coffee, smoking my pipe, it struck me how nice it was to have the familiar feeling, that of homecoming, my Sundays of youth rekindled. In times past Irishmen around the globe would rarely miss a Sunday service, beyond faith it was a way of touching base. I realise how important it must have been to them, it filled a real need. How many Irishmen today would do this? More likely to be IT managers than labourers the general decline of traditional faith coupled with the scandals of abuse in Catholic establishments erode any likely chance or renewal of this weekly ritual.

Famous churches in foreign places like St. Patrick's in New York were monuments to self-determination, loyalty and tradition built by the blood sweat and silver of a work weary immigrant community. Today Fr. Leo's churches are cheerfully attended by a good dose of Surinamer's and Filipiono's, immigrant workers not so different from the Irishmen of the last century. Often underpaid and under appreciated they bring their happiness and humility every Sunday, they stand out from the clearly whiter, more sombre and strained looking faces of the Dutch Calvinistic Catholics.

What delights me is that these churches could not be further apart from anything you might see in the 'colonies' or back home, one of Fr. Leo's churches is just an annex of an apartment building, the other is the ground floor of a large Victorian house. In no way grand or decorative, the emphasis is on faith, not institution. It reminds me that we form opinions of our Christian backgrounds, from and within, a very narrow minded and provincial sphere.

Perhaps it's more convenient and less ridiculed for an Irish IT manager today to spend his Sunday mornings at the Coffee Company reading glossy magazines in Eindhoven or Frankfurt rather than a local church. I radically suggest if you're Irish abroad, be it of Catholic or Protestant background, Buddhist or secular conversion, try leaving your wise understandings behind, your intelligent grasp of all things philosophical and just go to church just like Mum and Dad used to. Shock, horror! You might learn something old, or new.

The water's edge

2011-04-26T12:56:00.016+02:00

Sometime ago while making selections of my photo's I realized I was intrigued by 'the water's edge'. Unconsciously I would find myself there connecting, looking at other people connecting with themselves. Like many traditions the Celts revered it as a gateway, a portal to communicate with other worlds.

Water is a solid thing in my life. At an early age I became a strong swimmer. One of my dearest memories is that of my parents taking my brother and I to the local pool on Sundays. From the early years their marriage was under duress and this was one of the moments they consciously made the effort to be happy and try for the sake of family. A happy place from which the love of my parents can be easily rekindled bringing warmth to the colder moments of adult years.

My father grew up on a farm over looking Loch Dan, a mystic lake if ever there was one and a frequent backdrop in medieval films shot on location. We would spend our warm summers crossing its cold peaty black waters in a small boat. Deep, rich memories ingrained by the dark waves and majestic mountains that surround them.

My mother comes from a small island off the Irish north west coast (Arranmore). I've only been twice but this watery place is ever present in my life. Even though my mother left as a young women it is the island's watery edge that provides stability and meaning in her life. The island becomes a bridge, a lifeline with her cousins who crossed the sea to America. She speaks on the telephone, she reminds them of home, a place in their hearts. Evermore in their minds they need to journey across the ocean after living so long in a far off place where the grandchildren have gone to good universities, bought big houses and died in motorbike accidents. Like spawning salmon they must return to the water's edge.

When I'm at the water's edge everything becomes clear, I let go of the stories even though they have more meaning at that moment. At the water's edge everything is complete, ended and yet to begin, like jumping off a tall building and knowing you can fly. It's big stuff but what amazes me is that I see this in other people too, even if they don't see it in themselves. When people meet the water's edge, they change, instantly, everybody, always, everywhere. Even in a drained swamp called Amsterdam.

An ex-pat I shall always be.

2011-04-05T15:27:00.007+02:00

I recently visited the ex-pupils Facebook page from my old boarding school. I hope some old chums will post me, however I only resided at the Franciscan secondary school for three years and not the normal full five years so perhaps any imprinted memory may be somewhat vague. I ponder that I've kept moving on for most of my life. I guess I was born an ex-pat, whenever I return to Ireland to visit my parents I get the feeling that I've been here, I've done this. Am I a stone that gathers no moss? I suspect not. It's just that the moss has many coloured hues.

At the age of 16 I realized that remaining in boarding school would stunt my preparation for adult life. By 17 my girlfriend would sleep over, by 18 I knew my future would be founded in work and travel and not taking notes in a lecture hall. At 19 I had grown disillusioned with advertising and commerce and joined the Army. By 20 I was in London. By 24 I had bought my first house and was a junior partner in business. At 29 I became a Buddhist and at 32 moved to Amsterdam to live with my wife.

I suppose since then the rolling of the stone has slowed somewhat. I did return to Ireland in 2002 at the age of 36 for a career change only to find it a step backwards in time. I still see that boy from Dublin in the mirror, he's not altered beyond all recognition. As I would walk the streets of south Dublin as a young man, shuffling from one friend's house to another, from pub to party, I always felt I was just biding time. That I was not meant always to be with the people of that city, I felt the outsider. I probably felt more at home in international London of all the three cities I have lived, but towards the later years friends were few and many relocated elsewhere in England.

One of the things I have learned over the years is that it is many things to be Irish, it's a bag that you can't let go of even if you wished. It's acquired in the formative years growing up there, but that originates from a collective Karma, it doesn't come from a place but from a people who come from a people who have lived in particular places. I think many ex-patriots reading this will be able to relate to my tale and perhaps you like me have always been an ex-pat.

things I like about the not so nice

2011-01-17T14:41:00.009+01:00

A friend once commented on my blog, "well one thing is for sure, you don't like the Dutch". Well, I guess that is true, as a people and society I don't like them, but 'like' is not a word that can be applied to the Dutch. Infact it is a word they generally dislike, it is too vague, too emotive, baseless.

For sure I like loads of Dutch people, and I never let my observations and experience of living in their society carry over to the 'individual'. I approach all with a fresh look, a new embrace. So what do I like about the Dutch.

Well for one I like the fact that it is a less chauvinistic country than many, I love meeting strong liberal and independent women who have broken free from the chains of men. In Ireland women have a power that is derived from the importance of motherhood in the family group. But here it extends further, they can be something for themselves, not just as mothers.

I love the fact that gay couples walk hand-in-hand in the streets with a certain confidence and knowing. I like the fact that the police play it by the book, it doesn't get personal, it's just about rules and fines. You broke 'em, you pay 'em.

I like the fact that things work well, I don't mean their bureaucratically driven systems wrapped in excessive intellectualization (que dictionary: An unconscious means of protecting oneself from the emotional stress and anxiety associated with confronting painful personal fears or problems by excessive reasoning). I mean things like their doors and windows in new buildings, little wonders of well thought engineering that bring a smile to the face.

I like the birthday party thing, the behavior at such parties merits a 5 year thesis in psychology. But the idea that people gather every year to celebrate the birthday of every family member or close friend is remarkable. A brief time allotted in the agenda for the celebration of the individual.

I like the fact that the Dutch place importance and relevance on things other than their work. I like the fact they don't stick to rigid guidelines and norms of dress code at social events, even if they look like shit - which they do especially when they follow the guidelines! I like the fact that they often immerse themselves in foreign cultures and languages if only to escape their grey world. I like the fact that they are responsible and reliable. Pragmatically looking for solutions to improve their sodden plot. Those are some of the things I do like about the 'not so nice' Dutch.

mad men - those crazy Dutch

2010-12-16T11:02:00.003+01:00

I was catching up on the ad scene (advertising industry) news in Amsterdam recently and read a comment by a managing director on how bewildered they were as to the divide here in the advertising community. It's a world of two sides, one being the international global advertising agencies (three of which I have worked for in the past) and the second being the 'just Dutch' ad agencies. The director comment on how the two communities don't really mix, socially or professionally, and was at a loss as to why that is.

To digress I once met a young Englishman here who lived here for much of his life, his parents where English and he spoke perfect Dutch. One would think that a fluency in the language and a longevity of stay would mean a fuller degree of integration. Not so I was informed, he commented that there were 3 separate communities in Amsterdam, the Dutch, the ex-pat and the international community and essentially the 3 don't mix. I inquired what was the difference between the international community and the ex-pat community, he responded that the ex-pat stayed for a limited number of years while the international community stayed here for the long term.

I was slightly shocked by this as the Dutch very much herald the secret to integration is a good mastering of the language and culture. Twelve years on I have a good understanding of the language albeit not fully fluent, but if anything my increased understanding of the society alienates me even further. I now know what they're saying as well as thinking. I have good relations with many Dutch people, but the best relationships are with those who have lived abroad or are very broad mined, something I could also say applies to the Irish people I have good relations with.

So one might expect that a creative industry would be full of such broad minded individuals. Indeed it is. But repeatedly I find the Dutch need to retreat into a provincial state of mind the more they expand their horizons, it's as if they get scared, afraid that the ground is becoming too shaky, so back they go, clinging.

And. It is this very peculiar behavior that means the Dutch need Dutch creatives to art direct Dutch advertising campaigns and why the many international HQ's that are based here truly need international people to develop their international ad campaigns. My only regret is that too few Dutch colleagues understand this and do too little to address it. It is their loss.

finally I'm an artist

2010-10-23T14:00:00.009+02:00

I've always said I'm an artist, it's just that I don't actually make any art. By this I mean I'm a creative individual who works in a creative industry but I've never actually sold any art. No longer, I'm relieved to say. For some years now I've been looking for my chosen medium and artistic statement. Blogging is just part of that ongoing need to express my ideas. Regular visitors will notice that I include many images most of which are taken by myself, but all reflect my enjoyment of imagery and show the importance they have when I try to communicate something.

I've been developing my photography at an amateur level for some years, never knowing if my work was viable as a statement and how artistic or individual it really is. Fortunately I can now say that after completing my first public exhibition, it is sound work. It was a delight to see people enjoying my work, seeing that they could related to it and get what I was about. It was also great to sell some, that people were prepared to pay hard cash for my non-commercial creativity.

So what am I saying in my photography? To quote the blurb, “I like my photos stripped bare, un-complex, un-retouched, free of style or intellect - above all honest, I want them to be images your grandmother would like, with a look that brings a certain stillness and familiarity to mind.” You see I've grown tired of images that provoke, that shock or thrill, that startle. That are clever, that are cool, stylish, intense, detailed or the final word in Illustrator and Photoshop skills.

The best thing about peoples reaction to my work was that many clearly felt the same, they got that my work was about coming home, about leaving it alone, that there is nothing wrong with liking a picture your grandmother would like.

bikeland

2010-04-26T14:12:00.009+02:00

Holland is a province, namely North Holland. The correct term all school boys are taught is The Netherlands, but it should be called Bikeland. The Dutch would like to think they invented the bicycle, which they did not, it was a German invention. But ownership is a big thing in Holland, if they like something or do it frequently they really own it. It is a material society, more so than most. In Ireland it's all about the land you own, in England your castle, in Holland it's about the things you do, and if you do them a lot - it must be Dutch!

I remember a Dutchman telling me with that arrogant pride that they excel at, "We Dutch have a unique love of cycling." I replied, "that this was because it was a flat country." "Oh", he responded, "I never thought of that." This is not an isolated case, most Dutch haven't connected the fact that the country is flat with their abundant use of the bike. Autistic in intelligence is a term regularly applied by the outside observer. What they do own, and what is very Dutch are the bizarre alternatives and inventions they develop when adapting the bike. A 3-wheeler, a motor engine, an attachment to carry a briefcase or your entire family of blond blue eyed children.

Since the 1900's the Dutch have been adapting and adding features to the bicycle in crazy inventor like fashion. An object in Holland is something that can be tinkered with, improved, modified, made better. Unfortunately this is also applied to people, an individual is something to be experimented on, engineered and altered, as is society as a whole. It has the frightening tone of a doctor in a concentration camp about it. Don't get me wrong, their skills of engineering are worthy and inspiring and it has created a country with an impressive infrastructure, but sadly it has also created a society with people who are permanently experimented on, tinkered with and as a result don't really know who they are anymore, they do however, know how to ride a bike.

everyone is beautiful, everyone is cool

2010-04-21T11:41:00.019+02:00

I've just started a new advertising viral campaign to highlight my skills as a media consultant. One of the many problems with advertising today is that it 'targets' particular markets rather than people in general. Many companies use celebrities to endorse their products, but with the advent of YouTube and the deluge of 'IT' girls and boys what does someone like David Beckham really do for a brand.
We want people to connect with a star so that they will buy the product connected with them. But everyone is a star, not just 'this' group or 'that' group of people. We are all talented and smart and we need to connect with that. We should remind people that the stories with which we communicate our products and services are already written. Good communication tells us what we already know. Good advertising doesn't shock us with thought provoking ideas, it doesn't need to be original, it needs to connect with people and all that is wonderful about them. More than anything it needs to be human and honest, not fabricated and glossy. Everyone is cool and the marketplace knows that more than we care to admit.

TVmarvelo

you need coaching

2010-04-13T16:05:00.009+02:00

Coaching is the new buzz in both business and lifestyles of late. Many of these coaches have the looks of heavily groomed Parisian models or even worse, Dr. Phil! They quote the Dalai Lama in abundance and revere the benefits of meditation and yoga. They publish books by the score. Their banks accounts bulge. They're the new therapists. It's far cooler to say you have an appointment with your coach rather than your therapist. The power of the positive reaches a new phase of shallowness. Whenever I hear those words 'positive thinking' Bing Crosby and the Andrew Sisters swing into chorus, "you've gotta accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative ...."

I'm all for positive thinking but not when it means for short term goals like power, wealth or success. To quote a Dharma book I've been reading, "if you want to be rich, first be content." Self-help theories miss this point entirely, learning to be happy with the situation you're in is the most powerful medicine you can give yourself, being happy with the shit means you can cope with even more of the same. It is the obstacles that make us, it is the obstacles that are the gifts and jewels in our life, we should finds ways of finding more and more negativity, that's real positive thinking. When we realize that no problem is actually a problem we don't even need to fool ourselves temporarily with an expensive lifestyle or business coach to help us feel that we are more accomplished than someone who doesn't have one. You are you own best coach, that goes to the heart of the Buddha's teachings. I can assure you most business coaches are too busy reading their banks statements to have any time left for real introspection. Listen to your pure Buddha nature within and give the €10,000 to a good cause.

humble work

2010-04-08T13:48:00.009+02:00

I had an interview for part time work today. As the credit crisis bites hard freelance projects are few and far between. The job was for postal delivery work, this will ensure a base income and still give me the time to do graphics at home or visit clients. I'm quite looking forward to it. I love being outdoors and I love walking. I will earn in a month what I would normally earn in a day, but rather than feeling down about it I'm quite the opposite. Few things are as rewarding as earning a humble wage whilst doing humble work. It will get me out of the house, away from the computer and provide an insight into 'real' life and 'real' people.

I long ago concluded that the success of the Dutch and their economy (11th wealthiest in the world) is largely due to the efficiency of the average working man. Punctual in time keeping, focused in work, moderate in both emotion and behavior, the Dutch can be model employees. The problem starts when a Dutchman gets a degree.

A once homeless man who advises Dutch councils on that social problem highlighted the fact that in Holland the first thing a local council does to deal with the problem is set up an organization which instantly becomes beset with regulations and guidelines to the extent that no help is actually given to the homeless. I often say, "a pragmatic Dutchman will only make any problem you have worse". I discuss these issues with the few Dutch people I know and all mutter and say 'well I know what you mean, but that's not strictly true". Correct it is not strictly true, it is completely true!

It is said the Dutch covet their degrees and diplomas so much that they put them in banks for safe keeping. Being smart in Holland is regarded higher in status than power or wealth. Most men masturbate to a picture of Brigit Bardot, a Dutchman masturbates with a picture of Einstien!

Holland likes to think it's success is due to it's academic prowess, but all organizations, businesses and nations successes are due to the abilities and qualities of their foot soldiers, all good management comes from the Corporals and Sergeants. Good Officers know this and it's why they will stick close to the ranks and keep dirt under their boots and good Generals keep plans simple, it's the smart thing to do.

happy ego easter

2010-04-06T11:53:00.007+02:00

It struck me this weekend that despite a huge decline in the practicing of our Christian faith here in Europe, Easter still plays a large part in our seasonal calender. We use it as a reminder that although we don't 'believe' in religion we still agree in principle with its historical significance and admire it's humanistic principles. I read recently that Christians in the UK feel in the work place they face discrimination and ridicule for their belief. So of course Jesus was a great humanitarian but if we go to church or say prayers we're not really to be taken seriously. How true. Secularism has reached a phase in the west that does not just divide religion and state, but also the intelligent and the deluded or the egoist and gullible. If you still follow an orthodox religion clearly you are deluded and 'not quiet right in the head'. In America if you aren't religious you are hindered in the corridors of power and in Europe, hindered if you are.

If anything this just highlights European arrogance and also gives insight into the spiritual multicolored tapestry that is America, a fertile land fed abundantly by the spiritual language and organic faith of the Red Indian. Who know's. But I do know that to consider a Christian deluded while still clinging onto Christianity's cultural and historical foundations rather hypocritical.

For sure many Christians give that faith a bad name, as many followers of any faith do. As a Buddhist I can safely say the same. But you see it's all about the teaching and not the teacher, it's about the prayer and not the pray-ers. I often say, "we all pray, prayer is just wishing things to be good, to be better".

I felt it a pity this year that Easter was a golden opportunity to highlight the Catholic church's perverted nature and it's institutionalism that increased the perversion of justice. Could we and in particular the media not have given them a day off this Easter. How sad that we show our arrogance so clearly, so uniformly. I'm not defending the situation or the organization in anyway, but many chose to celebrate the most holy of Christian festivals with a weekend holiday 'somewhere nice' with a free complementary media frenzy where we can all point our fingers in judgment at the sinners...."may he who has not sinned cast the first stone".

nobody owns creativity

2010-04-01T14:58:00.007+02:00

I've decided that a blog a day keeps the doctor away, or a least a creative out-letting does more good than bad. I often say that creativity is something that needs release. If we are creative and we all are, we need to express it, otherwise it goes inward in a self destructive manner. Working in advertising one would think that creativity is strictly restricted to under thirty somethings who wear the latest Elton John style glasses and garishly coloured trainers. It has always boggled me how conformist 'creatives' can be. Yet another costume constructed, another style adapted and slapped on to say, "look I'm creative".

Everybody is creative, 100%. However not all are artists. I sometimes feel I'm an artist that doesn't do art. By definition therefore I'm not really an artist. It is that constant urge and necessity to express it that defines the artist. Many acclaimed artists suggest that once you begin to talk about your art you expose yourself as a fraud. How true, the creative work itself should stand alone, bare and stripped of anything other than it's presence.

I once heard a leading art historian suggest that by definition old African art is not 'officially' art as much of it has a purely utilitarian purpose. It is not purely created for the expression of an idea. Although understandable it indicates a very colonial western European concept. As the Chinese hire western architects by the bucket load in an effort to present a modern and progressive image they forget that the clean lines of Bauhaus can be found in the east's Buddhist temples and Zen gardens centuries old.

Bauhaus says more about the need for westerners need to colonise not just continents but also to own art and design. Being Irish and living in the Netherlands I frequently see my circumstance as someone who comes from a colonised country to living in one of the colonials. I see it in the mentalities. I see the coloniser in Irish art too, but not in soulful Irish art, that art draws from an understanding that freedom can never have an ideology, it can never come from exterior influence but only from within, from the land that spurt you out. Nobody owns creativity, it gave birth to you, IT owns you,

are we smarter than our smartphone?

2010-03-31T13:17:00.004+02:00

I'm presently doing my best to find new clients for my media business. Along the the way one gets diverted to viewing some of the creative work out there. Some is pretty impressive, Photoshop tutorials and a recent growth in graphic design 'how-to' websites increase a general standard, but also seem to increase a generic style. Media in general has become saturated with heavily illustrated and animated content, most distracts your attention rather than maintaining it.

In recent years I enjoy taking photographs that look 'normal', that are by no means 'moody' or retouched. More and more I revert to graphic shape in my work as opposed to heavily airbushed, toned and transparent work. In the advent of Avatar's 3D spectacular effects, there surely must be a renunciation phase. I'm already beginning to dislike anything that looks like an 'app' or an icon on iphone.

I frequently tell my younger colleagues that styles come and go, technologies change so focus on your craft rather than your portfolio. These day graphic designers must be illustrators, photographers, animators and film makers. I do my best to keep up and it helps to leave stuff out, keep the effects to a minimum, keep the tone down. The buzz word is 'content' these days, it is in some ways a reaction to heavily glossed visual and animated work. But the most relevant thing is to remember there's just way too much content out there and even worse it now demands our interaction. Interact with yourself first, that's the smart thing to do and leave your Smartphone on the table for a while.

a suit of armor

2010-03-29T18:37:00.016+02:00

"Nobody want's to read blogs these days, people don't care what your opinion is". This is a frequent comment on the subject of blogging. For most of us and certainly for myself, it is a form of release, it is to undress. We bloggers write, not to confirm our opinions, but to release them. It's like letting loose a caged bird - where it alights is irrelevant. We add real content to the web unlike the advertisers and corporations that fuzzy our cloudy minds with 'Flashy' websites. We put our lives out there in a global database of observations and emotions.

Think of it as a crusade, we battle the foe and our enemy is the shallow belief that being connected on a social network is more important than what we're connected to. This goes to the very core of Google's recent China action, it is NOT just about connection, it's about transparency. If we search in a world that is plagued by denial, what is it we will find, even more denial. The Netherlands is a society dominated by denial. If one has a problem your Dutch friend will more often than not use it as an opportunity to give you pragmatic advise, all-the-while confirming to themselves how well balanced their own life must surely be. Difficulties are are to be avoided by analytical assessment. A solution found and applied. The waters are kept at bay...phew. A new self-help book is on the way.

But you see if we really are to put up with ourselves or put ourselves out there in a blog we need to realize how much denial surrounds us. To recall a Buddhist teacher, "we dawn our suit of steal armor even before we leave the house in the morning". Cocooned we meet the world, protected in a false security called ego. We hide our weaknesses instead of celebrating them.

When we blog we shouldn't be afraid to show our frailty, we shouldn't be afraid to show our emotion, to strip off our suit of armor. We should not be surprised that some will look at our confusions and think better of themselves for it. Just put it out there, just blog and be done with it. I guarantee you will feel better and in time, be better.

St. Patrick was not a Catholic

2010-03-16T12:26:00.030+01:00

As tomorrow is St. Paddy's day and as Dubinthedam is a Dubliner living in Amsterdam I thought it good to do a cross cultural topic. It is said that the Irish tri-colour flag represents the green of Irish nationalists and the Orange of Unionist Protestants with the white in the middle representative of peace between our two communities on the island. Some say that is untrue because the orange is not actually the colour of Dutch Prince William of Oranje (the house of Orange) but that it is actually derived from gold. And, that colour being impossible to produce in conventional printing terms, it altered to a representative orange tint.

Regardless of true origins I prefer to think that the story of peace between the two communities is the more relevant and truer version. More importantly I have known both communities in my brief years of 43. I was once invited to join an Orange Freemason Lodge as young man serving in the Royal Irish Rangers reserve battalions. My Sargent Major who proposed my candidacy once asked that, "as an Irish southern Catholic was it not a problem to receive such an invite". I replied, "that it was an honor and my informed opinion of Freemasons was that many were good people and it wasn't a club solely reserved for those of a Protestant faith". In the end I declined, I had began an interest in Tibetan Buddhism and had decided to leave the armed forces.

During my basic training in Northern Ireland I had befriended another young recruit, we just hit it off. Someone said that as he lived in one of the most notorious hard line Unionist area's of Belfast that our friendship would not be looked upon with great joy. I have often since wondered if he ever suffered reprisals for our innocent camaraderie. I can only assume not, as I never heard of such.

The regiment was predominantly Protestant, but with a surprising amount of Catholics scattered about the ranks, both from the north and south of Ireland. If fact I learned that traditional stereotyped ideas from the Republic of Ireland that Catholics never joined the British Army were untrue, the army was full of such Irishmen serving with great distinction and still are presently today overseas. The stereotyped false theory was actually one born out of fear and a pursuit of nationalistic conformity.

However it was only until I arrived in conformist 'Oranje' Netherlands that I truly began to understand Protestantism as a mentality. Firstly let me say that if I was a Christian by theological debate I would choose to be a Protestant as it makes more sense to me from what I've learned from Christian teachings. But in the Netherlands the 'New' faith interests me and frustrates me when it translates into social behaviors and society. I often say, "this is The Netherlands where even the Catholics are Protestant". By this I mean the Dutch can be very rigid and lacking in any display of emotion, social responsibility is emphasised as is individual responsibility which often results in a good pension fund but a lack of real empathy for those who do not have one.

It often translates into a coldness and indifference to others. It proposes to be a society that is pragmatic and responsible for all - but this translates as leaving the caring to local government or organisations. It leads to a puritanical corrective waving of the finger at misfits and a smugness or arrogance in oneself. It even leads to quiet a well organised Red Light District and a lax soft drugs policy, again stemming from this idea of practical solution from government which allows for self responsibility, you are your own redeemer! It frequently results in a competition to show how normal and responsible one is as an individual. An outcome is often a society where people - as individuals - have great difficulty with empathy and compassion for those around them who have failed and are addicted, dysfunctional or disorderly. The meek and lost are to be 'fixed' rather than a subject of focus for real Christian compassion. "Conform or get therapy, there are institutions to help you".

In Catholic Ireland I find a deep level of sincerity, I find a profound sense of the spiritual that swirls and drifts through the hills and bogs. I find devotion. I find a passion and humour, a healthy cynicism. I also find a gross level of corruption, a conservatism that cripples even the new economy and society. I find a spirit of rebellion but a dangerous love of fighting. I find narrow mindedness. I find an 'old boy's' network. I find a pursuit of the material born from a poverty laden history. I find a stubbornness. I find insecurity. I find a lack of individual responsibility and social pragmatism. I find Ireland is a land where the Protestants are too Catholic!

I have lived in 3 countries during my life, between two classes with 2 armies served and 2 religions practiced. That goes well with the meaning of St. Patrick's day, he was after all a Welsh Roman who was made a slave and used the Gaelic Druid traditions to spread the true meaning and teachings of Jesus Christ on the island. He was not a Catholic, nor was he a Protestant and today despite our frustrations with each other's social traits, we have a real and long lasting peace between our two communities both of whom celebrate by the wearing of the green - and perhaps just a little 'Oranje".

Faugh Ah Ballagh.

you're not like me

2010-03-02T12:39:00.014+01:00

Elections loom in the swamp, local elections that is. I will probably vote for the Animal Party or the Greenlinks Party, the third - yet to be decided option - being the Muslim Party! So why would an Irish Buddhist be voting for a Muslim party. Well there has been a huge shift towards the right here in the Netherlands. I believe it stems from a inherent xenophobia which arises from a society where conformity is a golden rule. In order to conform one must know what is normal and what is not normal. Being different is only tolerated if it falls into a 'normal' category of excepted creativity or artist behavior. Unique in western society today the Dutch not only steer well clear of abnormality but they exude great suspicion towards it. A finger will be pointed at anybody who does not fall into a strict Calvinistic version of behavior. This really cuts to the degenerative aspect of Dutch society, it needs to destroy what is not excepted in order to justify it's own dull mediocrity.

Dutch society is jumping on a bandwagon of anti-Muslim feeling. It is simply using it as an excuse to vent frustration at a low-income immigrant community who's only real flaw is have a 'few' unruly and anti-social teenage boys who sometimes turn to criminal behavior. A criminal behavior the Dutch police (poorly supported by the government) are usually incapable of dealing with. In recent pols 60% supported the hard-right - bizarrely named - Freedom Party. Many Dutch are deeply angered by this but even few of those are prepared to take an honest look at themselves and the conformity that breeds walls of apartheid both in their past history and present society. It's as if they they put fingers in their ears instead of the dyke while muttering, "no, it can't be so, we're a liberal, tolerant people"!

The Moroccan community are mainly hard working and contribute a huge amount to the society. They not only do important menial jobs and run small businesses, but many of the second generation work studiously at school in an attempt to better themselves. As with Indian daughters in the U.K. the girls statistically do extremely well in academics.

Muslims in Holland do not threaten anybody's identity, they do not wish to convert the country into one of Sharia law. They do not wish to fight a Jihad. They just want to practice their faith, earn a good wage, be shown some respect and grow old like the rest of us. I am like them...and I will vote in whatever way I can to support them against a tide of ignorance, provincial Calvinism and Boerish apartheid.

R.I.P

2009-09-10T13:15:00.012+02:00

Some of you may notice that I have deleted a few posts. These in general where some of my more contentious writings with regard to my frustrations being a 'outsider' in the Netherlands. As with most things in life one needs to review and reassess at various stages. Some of these postings generated a healthy amount of comment, but this perhaps is just indicative of how people can more easily relate to critical editorial. The world press is full of such editorial writings. We read such articles on global politics whilst nodding internally in agreement, confirming our belief that we some how understand the complexities of human suffering better than those who actually live in such situations on a daily and all too real bases.

I've decided that should I post a critical comment, then I should always accompany it with a positive one because in reality that is how things are.

In addition, as a man who has worked in advertising for many years I'm all too aware of my 'brand' image, but more importantly as a Buddhist I'm am aware of my karmic footprint. I began blogging and Youtubing in order to grasp an understanding of this new form of global communication - spirited into our lives so rapidly. I read recently on the help menu's of Youtube information about how to close the channel of a deceased member, a shocking moment to ponder that our internet persona is possibly more permanent than our physical self. That our ghosts of the future will haunt the web rather than the granite stoned walls of old castles or houses.

So next time you write a comment somewhere, or have a rant on this new democratic soapbox, remember to end with something nice. Enjoy your day....dub

lets get connected

2009-03-26T12:09:00.006+01:00

The facebook and Youtube phenomenon gets bigger everyday. Both are sucking me into their void which results in a neglected blog...what's a blog, doesn't anyone blog anymore? The blog is increasingly being hijacked by businesses. I recently visited one by a major ad agency for whom I have worked in the past. I like to keep an eye on what the big boys are doing.

Of course most posts are heavily censored in that, "we're creative and liberal, but you can't say that" way. Leading advertising agency's pride themselves in their ability to follow trends...most of which are youth based while the worlds population grows older every year. "No problem", they say...everybody wants to stay young and buy things that make them feel young. I'm not so sure.

Overload is everywhere, it's not just in the financial system. The pursuit of more things which are worthless and devoid of real purpose and integrity. We're always searching, moving forward - but frequently it's just more running away.

So we get super connected, connect, connect, connected. With who, for what, half of your friends on Facebook would stab you in the back given half the chance or at least if they're 'professional' relationships! I try to keep my friends as friends, I try to use these network devices with some integrity, some grounding.

My YouTube channel is nearly up to 20,000 views....and I have met so many nice people, really nice people. We send parcels of tobacco samples to each other, all based on trust, the trust of gentlemen spanning the entire world. I should have shares in the post office, I would invest but my post office has been bought by a bank that lost 10 billion. The people are real and we need to keep it real when we're using network websites or a bank...really.

south of France

2008-08-31T14:43:00.003+02:00

So long since I've jotted down a few words, my Youtube pipe smoking video's seem to come first on my 'list of things to do' on the web. I guess a pattern is forming, my blog for rants, rave's and frustrations and my video's for communicating in a more optimistic fashion.

The summer is almost ended, it started with a trip to Dublin and ended with a journey to the South of France where H.H. Dalai Lama was inaugurating a new temple. It's been a wet season inbetween, the food in France is surely overrated - at least for a vegetarian, but the French - although easily offended - pale in comparison to the arrogance of the my beloved Dutch brothers, so the respite was enjoyed.

The best meal consumed was a Vegetarian Couscous...quite delicious, no doubt the chef was Algerian! I think French food is not quite a supremest as it once was, the rest of us worldly others having greatly improved our eateries and ingredients on the supermarket shelf. That noted the vegetables where nearly all home grown and tasted accordingly. A good summer all-in-all but still a long way from enlightenment and back in Holland...will it ever change.

shut your mouth

2008-04-21T10:21:00.016+02:00

We journeyed to Muiden on Sunday, glorious weather, quite the surprise. We'd expected it to turn colder but the contary occurred and a heatwave broiled instead. Muiden is a "mouth' or estuary on the Ijsselmeer, the bay of Holland which has been converted to a large freshwater lake. The daytrip is frequently completed. It is an idyllic place, farms, a castle, a fort, a harbour and seaviews of a sea that once was. The town of Muiden and it's sister town of Muidenberg is populated on Sunday's by people sitting on packed terraces, eating apple pie and soaking up the sun as if it will never shine again.

The farmer families who live in Muiden go shopping in Amsterdam on a Sunday (unless they're "Reformed") standing out in burly bodies and healthy skins amongst the less healthy looking wad of tourists most of whom have partaken a little too much and paled as a result.

The urbanites of Amsterdam find this all rather annoying, so instead of sitting on their favorite terrace on the Rembrandt Plein they ride their €1000 touring bikes to Muiden and sit amongst packed terrace's watching each other looking indifferent and eating apple pie. We go walking and do our best to avoid the vulgarity of the Dutch bourgeois.