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You are tall, blue-eyed, blonde, do drugs, travel with your caravan to France, and wear wooden shoes, right? Who are you and what are you currently doing?

Hans Gremmen Random answer 1: Grootveld called this symbol GNOT, a neologism combining the Dutch words for “God” and “pleasure” (genot). The symbol came to stand for the magical center of Amsterdam, in which the apple symbolizes the concentric canal belt, the stem the river Amstel, and the dot the public sculpture Het Lieverdje on the Spui, opposite the independent bookstore Athenaeum. Possibly, there’s a secret connection between this magic apple and The Beatles’ record label Apple Records (founded in 1968).

Jeremy Jansen I guess I am indeed relatively tall. And last summer I did travel with my camper through Europe, including France. In no particular order, some of the things I am are a book designer, dad, mediocre cook, teacher, owner of a gray Opel Corsa, and optimist.

At the moment I am working on several artist books. These last couple of years I have worked almost exclusively on book design, which I enjoy very much, probably the most.

Elisa van Joolen I am the opposite of the above, except I do have blue eyes.

At this moment I am working on different projects, one of them is Our Rags Magazine, a collaborative project with Aimée Zito Lema that investigates transformative processes, proposing new forms of collective production aimed at the reuse of discarded clothing and textiles. The project and resulting fashion magazine question consumer behavior and its relationship to the world in which we live. We imagined what a fashion magazine would look like in 400 years, in a world with no natural resources left, transformation and recycling are the only way forward. Our Rags Magazine is a magazine where the pages not only show clothing but actually are clothing. We made 68 unique copies.

Another ongoing project is EVJ, a series of unique tote bags made from used plastic shopping bags. These bags are not for sale, but users can borrow them for a set period of time.

In doing so, they become the bags’ caretakers: users sign a loan agreement stipulating that they will look after the bag and take care of it, and return it after six months ready for a new caretaker. I initiated EVJ in March 2020 at the Jan van Eyck Academy (JVE) in Maastricht, and the project continued in collaboration with Het Nieuwe Instituut Rotterdam, Dutch Design Week and Z33 House for Contemporary Art, Design, and Architecture in Hasselt. EVJ challenges preconceived notions around property, use, and care. It asks what it means to care for something that is not ours, and whether something seemingly worthless can accrue value by being in our charge.

We buy things, or we receive them as gifts. Sometimes we rent things. But borrowing something—without a monetary exchange taking place—and then having to care for it, is less common; even less so when it comes to borrowing from a stranger. It calls on notions that seem to have gone out of fashion but are in fact incredibly important. In our present moment, ideas around commons—shared spaces and shared resources—have become sparse, as well as notions of care, commitment, responsibility, maintenance, and trust. EVJ aims to reinstate these ideas as and through daily practice.

We made a website (evjbags.com) where you can borrow a bag, browse through the ever-growing archive of EVJ bag stories, and read up on the history, theory, and psychology of care, maintenance, and commons.

In March 2023, some bags will be available again for a new round (the fifth!) of borrowing at Het Nieuwe Instituut. Since the bags are from no one, also not from an institute, I like that they become temporary Z33 bags and now are again Het Nieuwe Instituut tote bags, I would love them to become one day MoMA or Hamburger Bahnhof tote bags …

Madeleine van Lennep I am small, brown-eyed, hate drugs, prefer boats and flexible shoes. My name is Madeleine van

Around 30,000 residents of Amsterdam called for tourism to be limited to 12 million overnight stays a year. But the city did not follow suit. It set the cap at 20 million. The rules for platforms like Airbnb have been drastically tightened, the number of hotel beds has been limited, and city tours in the historic city center have been restricted. It is also being considered to ban a large part of prostitution from the red light district and to ban the sale of soft drugs to tourists in the coffee shops. How does it feel to live in a city that seems so expensive and crowded with tourists?

Hans Gremmen Random answer 8: P.L. Kramer designed an apartment block located in Heinzestraat, including a red-bricked façade. The doors in the triangular—shaped porches are placed slantwise. This building provides an architecturally relevant example of a tight façade composition and of expressive details in the style of the Amsterdam School.

Jeremy Jansen I wouldn’t know, I live on an island. Literally, I live on an artificial island on the border of the city.

Elisa van Joolen It can be overwhelming … and yes, residents of Amsterdam are fighting to claim the city back. I live in Amsterdam because my friends, family, and work are here, I love the city and cannot imagine myself living in another place in the Netherlands.

Madeleine van Lennep Compared to other “real” metropolises Amsterdam is not

8 that overcrowded yet. It is not so difficult to avoid a certain type of tourist and it is only enriching to see and meet others. The lockdown periods showed us a quiet, serene Amsterdam that we hadn’t experienced for a long time. It made us more aware of the fact that we don’t need to take things for granted. We can make choices and “manage” tourism.

Jord Noorbeek Luckily I am living in the north of Amsterdam, on the other side of the backwater called the IJ. It is (at least where I live) quiet. You don’t hear trams on the street. It’s like a village. When, in the morning at 9 a.m., I cycle away from home it gets busier and busier the closer I get to my studio. I’m used to living in a busy city and I do like being among the bustling crowd. I like I can always be among the people, and join the crowd, whenever I feel like it. It was precisely when the tourists were not there (during Covid) that the impact of tourism became clearly visible. The rest and quietness in the city were overwhelming. During that time Amsterdam was only for Amsterdammers. Suddenly I would walk into friends on the streets, while normally—as it is now again—there are too many people, too many tourists, to spontaneously bump into anyone you know. Many people enjoyed it. What I really liked as well was that the streetscape, the city, and its architecture were much more and differently visible, without all the tourists.

Haarlem Vinyl Festivalal design: Suze Swarte, Jord Noorbeek, poster design, 2023.

Phil concerthal Jord Noorbeek, design: Suze Swarte, Jord Noorbeek, visual identity, client: Stadsschouwburge & Philharmonie Haarlem, 2023.

Hugo Rocci Are there cities where the local, creative class is appreciated appropriately? Doesn’t seem to be an issue exclusive to Amsterdam.

Charlotte Rohde It makes cycling an adventure every day. But our communities are small and we have our places and usually, you don’t really intersect with the tourists.

Vera van de Seyp Damn, I feel sad now. The city center is not very liveable in some parts anymore, but then it also wasn’t before it was gentrified and tourists came. I don’t think prostitution or the sale of soft drugs should be banned as it has been part of this city for longer than most people. Honestly, I prefer being surrounded by tourists than by people that spend their entire day practicing some new hip lifestyle and unironically wearing yoga gear in public (rocking a VanMoof or one of those dumb Mad Max motorized bikes). In my opinion, that tendency is affecting the city more negatively. However, as creatives, we also have to acknowledge the role we play in this process of gentrification of cities. In Amsterdam, new creative hubs are subsidized in specific areas so that they would become more “habitable” (read gentrified). Until recently interesting art places were subsidized further and further away from the city center (De School complex, Het HEM) but in the past few years some creative places have started in the middle of the Red Light District again. Full circle: the epicenter of tourism now has become a ground zero for arts again.

Kai Udema I don’t want to compare them to pigeons, but … after a while, you don’t notice them anymore until you almost kill one on your bike. Then there’s another plague going on, which is the “ringneck parakeet.” They’re more like the slumlords of the city, overtaking you left and right on their electric bikes, claiming every hole in every tree, and making life for the other species more expensive. They look pretty but they’re loud and selfish.

Edgar Walthert What hurts me the most are specialized stores that have to close because the rents are too high. These are then quickly replaced by tourist shops. Souvenir shops have been limited by the city, but now there are overpriced candy stores or a rubber-duck stores that keep popping up (probably until this loophole gets closed). The inner city is a theme park. When friends complain about tourists blindly walking into the bike paths backward, I say: who can blame them? The city is marketed as Disney Land, people have no conception of people living and working here. Putting up huge photographs of residents in the Red Light District that say “I live here” is too little too late. The city needs to do more, of course. If it keeps going in this direction, the center will be uninhabitable.

Purple Haze

Edgar