Not only is it the largest organized flea market in Europe, it's also a place to get inspired and enjoy the unique atmosphere. The IJ-Halls are part of the identity of the NDSM shipyard, a good reason to look back and forward during this special week in these corona times.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the first time I set foot in Amsterdam-Noord. With a friend, I traveled north from the Betuwe for two hours to visit the IJ-Hallen. For two girls from a farming village, it was an incredibly impressive experience. It was also the moment when I fell in love with Amsterdam, a few from which I never really escaped. In addition to the impressive structure of the market on the NDSM site outside and inside the warehouse, there was also a typical “IJ-hallen atmosphere”: welcoming, warm and curious. Something you don't experience like that anywhere else and is almost impossible to describe in words. After that first time, the monthly trip to Amsterdam-Noord had become a regular occurrence. Weekend after weekend, I strolled through the stalls, finding out over and over again that I could really use a new sweater, pants or pair of shoes.

I'm not the only one who looks back on long afternoons by the stalls with a certain sense of nostalgia. If you venture into the IJ-Hallen review page, you'll be overwhelmed by unique stories from visitors, from Amsterdam and beyond. About how they found their new showpiece for the living room or their new solid wood dining table they've been looking for so long. In addition to being a place to buy or sell new acquisitions, the IJ-Hallen are also a meeting place. There's nothing like taking a seat on the Y-slope with fries, next to you is a bag filled with new additions while you chat with a fellow visitor who has also settled down.

It's really fun to find people's extraordinary stories at the IJ-Hallen

‍

Undoubtedly, many connections, friendships and most likely also loves have arisen on the sacred ground of the IJ-Hallen. As a visitor, you also get a fascinating glimpse into the lives of sellers at the IJ-Hallen, who, by displaying their contents or wardrobe, give a glimpse into their style and what they once loved but have now decided to say goodbye to. Hiring for a fine-knit sweater, you'll find out how much you have in common with the salesman at the other end of the stall.

Besides the fact that the IJ-Hallen have an enormous emotional value, buying second-hand textiles and other items is also good for the world. Indeed, the textile industry is a huge one. polluter and responsible for 10% of total global CO2 emissions. Just to be clear, this is more than all international flights and all commercial sea transport combined. The production and processing of clothing, footwear and home textiles also cause water pollution and landfills: landfills of waste in the ground that then sinks into the soil. And we haven't even talked about the human rights violation from some clothing companies in developing countries. In short: buying a little more second-hand can have a huge impact on the world and with a place like the IJ-Hallen, it can also make a fantastic impression on yourself.

As a visitor, you also get a fascinating glimpse into the lives of sellers at the IJ-Hallen

‍

Unfortunately, we weren't able to enjoy the stalls very often last year and it all had to be in a much smaller form.. This had everything to do with the situation surrounding corona and the measures taken to prevent the rising infections. “I hope we can open safely again soon,” says Nichon Glerum, the photographer of the IJ-Hallen for 6 years, when I ask her how she feels about the market in a phone conversation. “It's really a great event. Every time, the stories are there for grabs; together with the photogenic warehouse and NDSM site, this really creates a unique atmosphere. It's really fun to find out people's extraordinary stories and the reasons why they buy or sell things. It's really fun playing a shop.” Nichon's enthusiasm can be felt over the phone. When I ask her about the future, she lets out a sigh. “I really miss the IJ-Hallen,” she says, “as soon as the government gets the green light, we want to go full throttle again. We have a lot of great plans to make the market even more special.”

Don't miss out on the IJ-Hallen and the potential next market when we are allowed again? Watch here the website or click here to stay up to date via social media.

Text: Willem Dieleman
Are you ready? I'm counting to three. One. Two. Three... four? Five. Six?! Seven! Seven months and seven opening announcements, it took us with the Museum of Unintentional Art (MOK) were allowed to open. Seven is a symbolic number that the MOK would normally go very well with. Three days later or forty hours of delay had also had symbolism that we could rely on. In any case, we can count ourselves lucky that it has not been canceled six times. How should I have told this story then.

Storytelling is what we love to do at the Museum of Unintentional Art, preferably with objects that everyone just walks by. Because of these stories, people stand still and look at their surroundings differently. The NDSM-werf Foundation also thought it was a good idea to curate unintended art in addition to all “regular” art. We won the NDSM Open Call 2020, which required the entry to be corona-proof. November 7 (there's that number again) was our official opening. We had chilled the champagne, flew in speakers, decorated the room with fringes and balloons. We were ready to start. However, the Tuesday before, the “press conference of death” came. Wouldn't corona have blown over on December 20? No, not anyway. When things seemed to be getting better, everyone went out, but we weren't allowed to encourage anyone to actually do that. When the sports clubs were allowed to engage in self-flagellation en masse and people were allowed to queue for hours before Primark, we decided to start the race ourselves.

I sent a festive announcement that we nought would organize and that, if you were in the area, you were definitely not supposed to be present at the NDSM Square at 3 p.m. I just emphasized: “stay inside, we won't organize anything!” It was a watertight plan if I hadn't had to self-quarantine the day before.

April 28, 2021: terraces open We open. Really now. However, there are other factors to take into account, such as the weather. You would almost forget that that was once a topic of conversation even when you had nothing to say. The weather. Someone should make it a good drama series with the title May 2021. Our work was corona-proof, which means, among other things: outside. And in probably the wettest May since 1983, “outside” was a suboptimal place to take an accidental art tour.

It must have been good for something. That's what people tell victims to comfort them, that all that suffering was not for nothing. For us, it was indeed a year that taught us a lot, especially cancellation. I've also become incredibly good at writing off-the-shelf emails, dealing with disappointment, patience, and acceptance. And, of course, not to walk in seven locks at the same time. Some people stay in Tibet for seven years before that. We were just trying to open a modest, coronaproof, unintended art exhibition.

Despite all the previous suffering, we have done a number of wonderful tours (I even think 7, but now that point has been made, someone will add another conspiracy theory to it). There were beautiful works among them, they are still there by the way: the tour can still be run independently and you can also take a live tour with our director Gilad Bino Jr. Walvic books. He takes you through the collection and after the tour, you will never look at the surroundings the same way again. A participant said after the tour: I thought it was very beautiful and incredibly funny, but I didn't know if I could laugh. She had a good point there. Art is not meant to be laughed about and certainly not accidental art. The more seriously you take it, the funnier it gets. If you want to laugh, go to the Stedelijk. At least they have signs that say: you can laugh at this work.

The MOK can be visited at the NDSM wharf until the last weekend of June. Click the button below for more information about how to do your museum tour by yourself, or how to book a guided tour

The exhibition series (Un) monumenting is about the concept of monuments today and what they should be, and who decides that. In this context, tries Rosa with Not Forever to make the versatile soul of the NDSM shipyard tangible with a large ambiguous object. The object will roam the NDSM shipyard for the next two months, each time under the care of a different shipyard user, while laden with that person's conviction about what the soul of the NDSM shipyard is.

On a sunny day, I meet Rosa in her workshop in East Amsterdam. This is an incubator in a former school building where several artists house their studio or studio. We take a seat on the building's sunny roof terrace and start talking about her work.

Rosa, when Stichting NDSM-werf asked you to make a work for (Un) monumenting, what went through your head and how did the idea of this work come about? How did NDSM end up in your work?

“I think the question from Stichting NDSM-werf came partly because I was involved in organizing a demonstration in Hoorn, where I grew up, against a monument by Jan Pieterszoon Coen that is in public space. I find it scandalous that that statue is still there and that it takes so long to remove it, if it is ever removed at all. So I've been working on the concept of monuments and who should be represented in public spaces for a while now. In addition, I have made work in public spaces in the past, for example my work Demo and Things you know, which makes me think I've ended up on the radar of the NDSM-werf Foundation. Then the Foundation asked if I could do something with the idea of a monument at the NDSM shipyard. Not so much to make a monument but to respond to the idea of monuments. At first, I found that very difficult for various reasons. First, De NDSM wharf is so big and expansive that everything you put in it has a great chance of disappearing. Secondly, the NDSM shipyard has been inhabited by artists for quite some time and so much has been done there. Each spot has been used to show something so many times that I also found it difficult to relate to it at first.”

‍

“That's when I started thinking about what form this work should have,” Rosa continues, “I like to leave my work in the middle of the world. I sometimes find it easier to show something at a construction site than in a museum, while in a museum, something gets a lot of attention. But on a construction site, there is much more of a context that you can use and respond to, making your work even more meaningful. It is this interaction that I often find interesting; I even like it to have a bit of a clash or to reveal the weirdness of art: the contradiction between a very practical, functional, direct reality and what art is.

Want to give firm shape to something that is elusive, that could represent the soul of the NDSM shipyard.

‍

But art itself is also something very basic at the same time. Even in a museum, it's still a lot of weight that needs to be brought to that place. It's those aspects that I often really like about art because they're actually all just things. We sometimes have that tendency to forget the “thingness of art” with ourselves. We often only see ourselves as a subject, as something that has symbolic value and not as something that only takes up space, as an object or a thing. That idea fascinates me; if you were to completely disassemble a painting in a museum, you wouldn't find one piece that had the value of the work. Just like if you were to completely dissect a person, you won't find one piece that contains the soul or identity, it's in your whole being.”

So how did you end up with this object?

“What I love about monuments is that they make something you cherish together into something material and tangible. So the idea for this work is also about wanting to give permanent shape to something that is elusive, which could represent the soul of the NDSM shipyard. Which you can also easily make a topic of conversation with it. When there is a discussion about a statue in Hoorn, it is not only about that statue, of course, but also about what that statue represents, it makes the subject concrete. If you were to ask me what topic makes this work concrete? Then that's what the NDSM shipyard is at the moment, and if we continue in the same way, there won't be any more very soon.

It's about caring, and that you have to do that together, caring for a place

‍

I am talking about climate change, among other things, but also about the fact that gentrification is knocking at the door and that the NDSM shipyard may be further commercialized and there will be less and less space for art. That's why I have the job Not Forever mentioned, also in response to a nice quote by Sasha Pevak (curator and artist ed.): 'The monument becomes visible only when it is removed'.

“What I also wanted in it,” Rosa continues, “is that it's about caring, and that you have to do that together, caring for a place. So because the object is so big and you can't move it alone, care providers always need several people to move it in and out or to a new place. Exactly those stupid practical consequences, I think that's what the artwork will be in. I think that's where the moment I'm looking for comes in. Provoking interaction, dialogue and stumbling. The intention is that each caretaker of the object gives their own interpretation, giving the object value. The work will be launched on June 25, but I think in a way it's not there yet. The object is there, but just over the next two months, all the experiences it experiences will gather in the object, which is what together becomes what I want it to be.”

You also included the aspect of transience in your choice of materials, can you tell us more about that?

“Certainly, in addition to the fact that it fits the concept of this work, I also think that, as artists, we should take responsibility for what materials we choose for our works of art. Especially for a temporary work like this, I think it's important to focus on what kind of materials I might be able to reuse from other works and what materials have the least impact on the environment. Definitely a job like Not Forever, which, of course, is also partly about climate change, I would find it hypocritical to throw a whole mountain of plastic on the table myself. That is why I chose to use materials from the recently demolished building of Sexyland. I do like the fact that there is also literally a part of the NDSM shipyard in it. Of course, that's not just because of Sexyland, but also because of what that building used to be.”

“What I'm not sure yet is what to do with the boulder after the two months that the work has been active. What reassures me is that all the material I used for it, including the screws, are all things that were already waste before it became this object. That soothes my conscience somewhat. I'm also curious what it is then, what it has become in meaning. I think the final destination also depends on what the collective idea makes of the object.”

Rosa, how do you see art in public spaces, what makes it different from art in a museum or “inside”?

“The main difference is that you didn't ask to see art in public spaces, that's something you're confronted with whether you like it or not. That's what I really like about art in the public space, it also integrates more into daily life than much other art. There is a certain piece of art that I see on my way home every day, and every day I look at it differently depending on my own state of life and state of mind at that moment. It changes shape because my mind changes and time goes by. This can also happen with monuments, just look at Jan Pieterszoon Coen, public opinion is changing (although there have always been protests against the statue), while the thing itself still looks exactly the same. When something is in a museum, it is also viewed differently. That's what I find interesting, how space and time influence the way we look at something.”

“By the way, it's not just that art is subject to the influence of public space,” Rosa continues, “but it can also be the catalyst that starts or starts a conversation. In the ideal situation, work is not only subject to external circumstances, but can also influence those conditions.”

Do you want to know more about Sijben Rosa and her work? Then check here her website. (Un) monumenting continues! In addition to the already visible work Breathing the City by artist collective Frerara on the NDSM Billboards, is also the third edition of this exhibition series in the making. Don't miss anything? Follow the NDSM-werf Foundation on our socials!

Tinka and Zenzi are both fresh out of high school and initially ended up at the NDSM shipyard with their face mask company. Meanwhile, they moved to the east wing in the NDSM Loods where they came into contact with NDSM Fuse and the artists from the City of Art, among others. “That's when we actually thought, why don't we do something creative?” says Tinka, “there is Fireplay hatched. It's the first major project for both of us, and I also call myself a starting cultural entrepreneur.”

“We've both always been into theater,” Zenzi adds, “for me, there has gradually been an increasing interest in the production side. I really directed a play for the first time two years ago, I really liked that. Unfortunately, that production had to be cut off due to corona.”

‍

‍

“We work really well together, we're really a collaborative idea machine,” Zenzi continues, “we call that a “hivemind”. Then we came to the idea that we wanted to make a dialogue, i.e. a play with two people. Precisely because that way, we were also able to keep it small if necessary due to the pandemic. Actually, it's only been a few weeks that we've been handing things over. Suddenly, we have actors and a production assistant, etc. It's like watching your baby grow up.” Tinka nods in agreement. “Indeed, it has suddenly become bigger than us alone,” she says, “it's also a great way to get to know people at the NDSM shipyard and see how everyone thinks along with you and wants to help you where possible. For example, we initially wanted to play the piece in public spaces, but then ended up with Treehouse as they have more facilities and experience in this area. They were immediately enthusiastic as they also played a bit of a role on site by helping young, beginning makers. That's how the ball started rolling”

Next, the two young theater makers tell us a bit more about where Fireplay is about content. “The idea originates from the concept of cyclicity,” Zenzi begins, “the idea that everything in nature is not just progress but a cycle of phenomena that recur all the time. If you are in that cycle, you may not fully realize that the moment you are sitting in is a repetition of what once happened in a certain way. For example, the end of a relationship is often seen as a tragic end to a good time, while it can also be the beginning of something new.”

“From this concept, we started with the idea of dialogue,” Tinka continues, “we wanted to fully build two people in the play and explore how their personalities, experiences and habits interrelated. In it, we try to make a story that does not have a beginning and an end, but is a cycle.”

“The characters in the play are named Daan and Doris,” Zenzi continues, “these are two girls who have been in a relationship for a few years and are both very present people in different ways. In their dealings with each other, a lot has gone under the rug over the years and it all comes up in one evening.” “That then inflames a heated conversation,” Tinka adds, “the play shows how the history of both characters influences their behavior and how that can sometimes be a bit awkward between two people. In the play, these interactions are juxtaposed with natural cyclicality (think behavioral patterns that you adopted from your parents), shedding light on the relationship between two people that the audience has hopefully not seen before.”

In our conversation, I notice Zenzi and Tinka's passion and energy as they're about Fireplay talk. They have used and expanded their entire network to make this production and there is a great sense of professionalism. “The proverb”no you have and yes you can get ' is very true,” says Tinka when I ask what the biggest lesson they take away from this adventure is. “With so many aspects of this production, it has been a matter of daring to ask.”
“We were on top of it all,” says Zenzi, “which really makes it a personal production, we were there for the fun and not so fun jobs, but that's also the great thing about such a project, I think.”

It promises to be a spectacular show series full of intrigue and plot twists you didn't see coming. In combination with Treehouse's artistic atmosphere, Fireplay one to put on your agenda. Bring plenty of water, because we can't guarantee that it won't get a little hot underfoot! It's also a great opportunity to get to know the creativity of young makers at NDSM and support them after a bummer when it comes to stage art.

I meet Anne-Jan at his studio in Make Community Hope in Zaandam. As we walk around inside, I can't help but draw a comparison with the city of art: the studios are at multiple height levels and are all unique. Since it is a remarkably hot afternoon, we decide to have our conversation outside. As we sit under two large oaks on the water behind the breeding ground, we start talking.

Anne-Jan, you won the Open Call 2021 by Stichting NDSM-werf. Can you tell us a bit more about how the idea of Public Air Filters came about and why you decided to submit it to the Open Call?

“Yes, of course, Public Air Filters is linked to an exhibition that I'm going to do in New Dakota later this year called Asbestos The Magic Mineral. The exhibition uses Asbestos as a catalyst or case study to tell a story about dangers that we cannot see with the naked eye. When I was designing the exhibition in collaboration with New Dakota, we thought it would be nice to draw a line outwards, since the subject is about air. So we sent Public Air Filters in for the Open Call, to add another layer to the exhibition, a layer that takes place outdoors on the shipyard.”

We have the idea that we should be able to exert a certain influence on certain conditions of nature.

‍

“Almost all my work has been about risk and anxiety for years, especially about the difference between real fear and unreal fear. When I started thinking about this work, I thought Asbestos was a sensational topic, and it originated at a time when we were even more hysterical about it than we are now. At one point, for example, there was an evacuation of a residential neighborhood in Utrecht, because a small amount of asbestos may have been released somewhere. My tendency back then was to think that was a severely exaggerated reaction, but I did find that hysteria fascinating. We walk among cars tearing by day in and day out, but when a tiny amount of asbestos is released, all alarm bells go off. Not that that is unjustified per se, but of course there is a kind of selection mechanism, which intrigues me. That's how the idea to make a work about an 'invisible enemy' started developing.”

“What I find interesting about things that we can't see is, because you can't see it and you can't measure it yourself, interesting social structures automatically arise. The danger must be framed and flagged by an authority. This is usually done by the government on the advice of science. As a citizen, this immediately puts you in front of the question: to what extent do I trust science and in the authority that transmits the message or result of science? I find that trust issue that then arises interesting, it is often also conflictual and wonderful to poke in.”

The location of the NDSM is certainly an interesting one because you can imagine that there is a kind of special sky there.

‍

“This also includes a comparison with what we have experienced with an invisible enemy over the past year; in that sense, current events have overtaken this project. When that news developed last year, I found it, in addition to being very worrying, partly also a bit of a treat. I find these kinds of very intense socially charged issues about dangers and risks, especially so involved in daily life, the most interesting. What I'm mainly working on with my work and soon with the exhibition in New Dakota is framing that invisible enemy, but in the context of air quality. With my work, I put a frame and a mark on pieces of air so that a value can then be attached to those pieces of air: is the filtered air better than the unfiltered air, and can the unfiltered air still be trusted?”

Can you tell us a bit more about the message behind framing air in public spaces and the visitor's assessment of air quality at NDSM?

“Absolutely, let one thing be clear, it's not my goal to scare the visitors to NDSM about the quality of the air they breathe on site. When you talk about framing air, I think the powerful gesture of my work is that I offer filtered air to people. As a result, all other air is framed as unfiltered air at once. What does that do to people's perceptions of where they walk and what they breathe there? So basically, the work lies in the perception of the environment of people that you generate by offering filtered air. However, it is and remains a work of art, which essentially says nothing concrete about the actual air quality that ends up in the lungs of people walking by.”

Breathing in all at once becomes a kind of extravagant adventure

‍

“The more underlying meaning of the work has to do with what place people occupy in the nature around us. I think that, as humans, we are very inclined to think that we are separate from nature and our environment. In our opinion, it is our body vs. what happens outside our body. While that, of course, is not entirely correct with how our body actually functions, because there are many organisms that are needed to keep our body running, that come from the world around us. I hope that people will become more aware of the interaction with us and nature when they look at my work. In addition to invisible enemies, there are also invisible necessities that are found in nature around us.”

“In addition to the conceptual part of my work, there is also an aspect of experience. It balances on and over the edges of fiction and non-fiction; visitors cannot find out for themselves whether air is really being filtered or not. In addition, a system is at work that exploits and manipulates the idea of a visible residue created by invisible particles in the air. By working with that residue, it is pulled over the top so much that breathing in at once becomes a kind of extravagant adventure where you see and take in all the pink, yellow and shiny growing fabrics. Something that is very normal in daily life, namely breathing in and out, suddenly becomes an experience. It takes on a kind of fictitious adventurous quality all at once. That game that occurs between what really happens and what the installation insinuates, what happens is an important part of this work.”

When I read your plan and started thinking about air quality in that context, I made a link to industrialization, does the industrial past of the NDSM shipyard play a role in the work?

“The location of the NDSM is certainly an interesting one because you can imagine that there is a kind of special sky there. The image of the former industry is still fresh in the collective memory, but must now also make way for the image of a residential area. That's what I want with Public air filters hang out a bit in between. Because more and more homes are being built at the NDSM shipyard, that also means that the sky is changing. Or is the air of the industrialization that existed then still to be found? And now we're still talking about the 'outside' of NDSM. I can imagine that the air quality in the NDSM Loods is even more influenced by the former industry at the moment. In a hall like that, on a floor where a lot of work has been done with heavy metals and toxic substances, you can't get rid of that with a vacuum cleaner. Of course, the question is whether these are quantities that you should worry about, but it is important to be aware of. That's actually the same contrast as what I'm trying to clarify in my work: we call the NDSM shipyard both inside the warehouse and outside the warehouse, but there is a difference in air quality. The same difference when it comes to my work with the unfiltered air and the filtered air in the outdoor area.”

“I do think it would be healthy if we looked for an alternative to the zero-risk image that is being raised in Western democracies, because that image is an illusion. We got the idea that we, as humans, have the right to have no risk, and nowadays many promises are being made and systems are being built around that. We're constantly looking for control over something we can't actually control. We have the idea that we should be able to exert a certain influence on certain conditions of nature while there is a very clear limit to how far that is possible.”

“A lot of unhealthy substances that are better not to breathe in function of a probability that you may only be able to partially influence. Just look at Asbestos, you can be unlucky and get sick from coming into contact with that substance once. But there are also people who have worked with it all their lives and never get bothered by anything. That means that, in theory, you don't have to breathe in much from an invisible enemy and you can still get sick. They are almost like anonymous statistics of invisible dangers and that idea generates a certain tension or awe. Actually, the whole life is also like that, a collection of anonymous statistics that determine the course. That awareness, that we are part of a larger nature and all its influences and opportunities, is what my work is most about.”

I met Luca in his studio in the Art City in the NDSM Loods. After making my way through the labyrinth of studios and workspaces, I came to a spacious room decorated with various Luca toys. This creates a very colorful and playful environment that lifts the mood the moment you step in. After catching up, we had met before for some photos, sat down at a big table in the studio and started the interview.

So, Luca, can you tell me a little bit more about yourself and your art?

“Of course! I'm originally from a very small town in northern Italy. That's where I decided to study architecture in Venice. After graduating, however, I realized that, as much as I love architecture, I wasn't able to incorporate anything from Luca into the designs of buildings, parks, or other large-scale things. I couldn't express myself in designing on such a large scale. That's why I decided to do a master's degree in graphic design, in an attempt to reduce the scale in which I design. The interesting thing is that for everything related to design, the process is the same, but the outcome will be different. I was able to use the same skills I had learned in architecture and apply them to graphic design.”

I realized that a lot of animals came out of my pencil

‍

“Although I really enjoyed graphic design and playing with colors and graphics, I felt that my heart wasn't really beating for work. That was when I decided to move to Amsterdam. When I arrived, I came across a beautiful studio where designs were made for children's toys. As soon as I saw it, I was mesmerized. There are people who actually do this work, it's not just a hobby but a real profession! So I delved into it and got completely caught up in it. I love this work, it's an exceptionally beautiful thing. So my art started with architecture, but let's just say I found a way to best express myself in toy design. I learned the hard skills of design by studying architecture and graphic design and discovered how to put love into my work by making toys.”

“The toys that I design are not objects that you just look at, they are all objects that you can play with. For me, playing means learning, and learning is discovering something you don't know yet. That's also what I do with my toys, I don't give the user, the kids, a ready-made toy, they need the action of playing to finish the toy. That's why architecture was really important because it gave me a lot of rules and a grid that I can use when making these kinds of toys. A strong design makes toys free and easy to play with. With all my toys, I try it out at workshops with children. It is wonderful to see how children play with your toys and that they actually work. Children are also incredibly honest, so they will ask you very direct questions if something is unclear to them.”

“The idea started with the concept of simplicity, like almost everything I make. I bought oil-based pasta crayons, which are made from a type of paste that can be used for a very rough way of drawing, with thick lines that you can't erase. With these colored pencils, I did an exercise to draw things that consist of just one line. I tried to work and play in the same way that kids would work and play. In doing so, you will discover the most important characteristics of animals, the long neck makes it a giraffe and a few stripes make it a zebra. In that context, I started designing on a piece of paper and realized that a lot of animals came out of my pencil.”

“Somehow, I was also fascinated to go big and wild with this project. So for this design, I just tried to imagine it on a larger scale, something to play on instead of something to play with alone. Then I had the thought: what if they could be in the proportions of the real animals they represent? Imagine cycling through the city and out of nowhere you find a crocodile in the park, or a giraffe around the corner of a building. At the time I was playing with this idea, we were back in lockdown and you heard on the news how wild animals were spotted in the city streets because it was so quiet there at night. This gave an extra layer to this idea of wildlife in the city.”

Animal Factory goes beyond just being toys

‍

Can you also tell us a bit more about why you chose to submit Animal Factory for the NDSM Open Call?

”Animal Factory goes beyond just being a toy. In terms of design and use of materials, it is certainly a challenge for me. I feel like I'm also playing while I'm designing and making it. In addition, I think that NDSM is a perfect place for these kinds of projects. Fortunately, there is still a bit of nice chaos and clutter here. There is room to improvise and be surprised. That's why I think meeting a giraffe at the NDSM shipyard is crazy, but also quite normal somewhere. It's a beautiful place full of energy and creativity where lots of great ideas are born. Imagining that the animals will actually roam the streets of NDSM and that children and other people will actually play and interact with them is a wonderful idea. Because of the simple design, I think the family of four animals that we have now can easily grow in the future. They may also be able to migrate to other parts of the city, or to other cities in general. The animals here in this studio just started on a piece of paper. Now we are building them in a steel workshop and they will be at NDSM in the coming months. But I'm sure they're going to other places too. One way or another, they live and go their separate ways.”

The animals of Animal Factory will be on display at the NDSM wharf from August 19 and everyone is welcome to play, chill, exercise or just hang out! I highly recommend visiting Luca's studio or website because viewing his designs is a real mood booster! Check out his website below

“The simplicity of designing the lines on paper is linked to the design process and the way the animals were built. They are made of steel tubes, handled by a steelsmith at NDSM, just as simple as the lines are drawn on paper, nothing more and nothing less. I always think that when you get to a point in your design where you can't take anything else away without the product losing its functionality, you're close to a good product. Bee Animal Factory every line counts, because each line defines a part of the animal and each line also counts for the animal's stability. There is a certain beauty in that simplicity. Due to their simple design, the animals offer the freedom to have multiple ways of use or interpretation. For example, I can imagine kids playing with them, but I also see a group of teenagers just hanging around them or someone else using them while exercising. We all want and need to use our creativity, play and occasionally think of something fantastic and crazy. That's what we need in our lives, I think.”

Can you tell us more about the collaboration with Iwan Snel, the steelsmith who made the animals?

“Yes, that's actually quite an interesting story. One of the great things about the NDSM shipyard is that you can find many different types of people. That's part of the privilege of working here. One day, I just knocked on Iwan's door and asked if he wanted to be part of this project. He loved the idea of the animals and decided to jump in. It's really nice how sometimes a great idea or project connects very different people.”

“I love the contrast between us. I'm a little Italian, really chaotic and noisy, while he's a quieter, big Dutch Nordic guy who works in this workshop full of steel, iron and tools. But even though we seem very different, we were a great match from the start. What is really nice to see is that, as a designer, I am free in my ignorance to draw what I want without knowing what is actually, materially possible. In turn, he knows the machines and tools, their capacity and limits, and the technology needed to build the structures. This provides a nice balance, because I can go wild in my design, unlimited by practicality, and he can then show me the limits of what is possible, creating a kind of golden mean. That's why I think a project is strong when it's nurtured by different people with different areas of expertise. Because there are so many different people with so many different talents here at NDSM, it will be a perfect playground for great projects.”

When I think of the Tower of Babel, I think of language, of Breughel's tower lying like a cake in the landscape, of God and the tarot card with figures tumbling off a burning tower. I'm thinking of confusion of speech, the risk of collapse and the human desire to understand the divine.

The Tower of Babel at the NDSM shipyard is an idea by artist Guido van der Werve. The goal is to create an architectural installation where polyphony is central. By inviting Amsterdammers to bake bricks, edit textiles and have street art created under the direction of artists such as Fouad Lakbir, Tina Lenz, Mick La Rock and Bengin Dawod, we are working on the one hand to build an installation and, on the other hand, to facilitate a place to exchange stories and deepen everyone's perspective on the city.

In the Bible story, all people speak one language, they decide to build a city with a tower that reaches to the sky because they want to “make a name for themselves” and avoid being scattered all over the Earth. Where, on the one hand, this story reads as a historical explanation for why people speak countless languages, but on the other hand, I read an illustration of thinking ahead. The tower is the crowning glory of the city that has just been built, as a symbol of what people are capable of when they join forces.

If the tower in the Bible story symbolises what people are capable of, perhaps the question underlying God's intervention is as follows: What are people prevented from when they focus on building the tower?

Imagine the Earth without cities. Can you see into the distance? Do you hear an animal calling? Are there open fields, dense forests, tall mountains, and winding rivers that expand as far as the power of the water reaches? A group of people form clay blocks with their bare hands and bake them in the fire, coat the blocks with potato starch and stack them on top of each other. I imagine a rhythm, buzz, stories shared as the city unfolds in a nature reserve and then moves slowly upward. Was the goal to achieve a certain prestige or is a connection with the divine being sought in the construction of this tower? Each stone as a prelude to heaven, a staircase to the house of God. In the Bible story, God comes down to intervene. While observing people and listening to the rhythmic stacking of stones, he says in Genesis: “This is just the beginning.” Was that a prophetic note with a look at the present?

The tower in the tarot deck is on the table in front of me. In the distance, I hear piles, a highway, sirens, a truck rushing by. With my finger, I follow the contours of the tower on the map. I wonder why God intervened. Why did He descend and confuse people with speech? In the tarot, the tower refers to the crumbling of a strong conviction, putting everything on loose sand. It is an insurmountable thing, so that there is room for something new. This tower can be a lonely place, where old ideas and mummified feelings prevail. On the tarot card, I see a green door in the tower where three steps lead. The steps refer to acceptance and integration of a new form of knowledge, such as a new worldview or a new narrative about the self. Only then can the tower door open and the
reveal the inside. Only then does the construction of a narrative that no longer serves you collapse. The tower is also compared to an oven where the philosopher's stone unfolds.

If the tower in the Bible story symbolises what people are capable of, perhaps the question underlying God's intervention is as follows: What are people prevented from when they focus on building the tower? What story is being created and does it actually help people? According to God, all strength, knowledge and energy are combined and used to gain outer strength, in the desire for fame. Cultivating the earth is forgotten, caring for each other is on the back burner. In the tarot, God's intervention is therefore explained as a solution instead of punishment. Because of the confusion of speech, people are returning to the question of what it means to be human. Like the tarot card refers to deconstructing a story you've told yourself. The tumble of the tower offers space to start again, to reconnect with the Earth, with yourself, with each other.

In this light, the art project at the NDSM shipyard is an interesting sequel. God is not sought in the air, but within interaction with fellow Amsterdammers. The construction of the installation is not the goal, but the means to facilitate a space where meetings can take place. The word “building” takes on a new meaning in the workshops that are organized at the NDSM shipyard, where polyphony (or confusion of speech) is approached as something positive. Not one building block is the same, each person brings something unique and building is about creating and participating from that individuality. The workshops thus form spaces for connection and the exchange of stories. Something that may have become rare in the city and something that the tarot card with the tower provides insight into. Which wall should you let go of, what can you let go of to experience (again) connection?