THE UNTAMED
FIRE
IN
BABYLON
Roots are found in the creeks and cracks of this city. Be it in a record store, hanging from a wall, on the radio, or spoken outside a concert hall, if you haven’t felt it yet, you must be ducking the Amsterdam core. This city is not only made up of soul sellers giving up their freedom to the Babylon merchant. Despite governmental efforts strangling squatting, the laws have not torn down the rundown walls or silenced the honest songs. The history is still being written. We want to explore these roots as they continue to grow.
“THE FLAME IS STILL ALIVE”
an old Paradise bird told me last year during anthropological research on subcultures. A fire that remains untamed by the commodification it is surrounded by. It was from multiple conversations with old-timers and newcomers in the creative sphere, the idea to create a platform began to take shape. To see so many people believe in this project early on proved that not only is the flame still alive, it’s red hot!
Each issue of Underdam Magazine will voice different people and themes that deserve amplification. With the help of your words on these pages, let us spread this fire together.
This first issue explores the theme ‘community’ within a collective of artists in Amsterdam. Pass Dam Square coming from Oost, dodge a horde of tourists then cross the street. Make a stop at Paleisstraat 107, and enter the ‘Free Palace’. Run by 25 free spirited artists, Vrij Paleis always brings on a show. Whether it be their ‘Open’, where they curate local and far-flung artists, stage musical performances, screen films, or exhibit their own art, Vrij Paleis represents the heart of alternative culture.
The following pages will unfold recorded interviews with local residents of the Palace; Rogier Marius, Jagoda and Ella, as well as two independent artists who exhibited March 2023.
There is a massive difference compared to how it was ten-twenty years ago. Squatters were very artistic. In those days, you would deal with the government. If you were a registered artist, and you would once a month bring an artwork to the municipality, you got $800 for life support.
What the fuck happened to that?
That’s what I want to know…!
right, lets begin
ROGIER
It’s a really tough business if you’re alone. But if you are able to share, it cuts the costs a lot as well. Which enables people to continue.
What was important for you when you first began to take over the responsibility of this building?
There was an interesting debate. Some said “you should take it on, try to get that soul back”. Others said ‘you should do something totally new with it. Don’t try to use the historical past because it will backfire.’ But we try to stay true to it. It was a very experimental place. It was a crazy free spirit. . . and because it was so deeply rooted in the squat and the screw you world. For artists I think it is very important to be aware of the power you have. I don’t want to do the same but want to stay true to it.
How do you find the balance between having to care about the monetization and staying true to the roots of this place?
That’s where ‘Vrij Paleis Open’ comes from. It is so difficult to find stages for artists in Amsterdam, because everything is so hyper commercial. That is the basis of our collective, which is facilitating the collective. We basically never agree on the content or way of working. But we do share facilities, and we share them also beyond the group of members that we have, removing all the restrictions of these days, which are that you pay crazy rent, or if you want to buy a paint brush, that’s six euros… We want to present a nice contrasting alternative to all the flagship stores around the corner. To have an appearance of something that is not for profit or simply money to buy.It’s a bit shabby, but it’s also what’s attractive.
How do you guys work together?
Actually, nobody is reliable. We all know that we’re unreliable. So we try to create back ups. And if somebody promises to give the key to somebody who comes from their exhibition, we try to make sure the two other people know where they are so we can actually work. I’m pretty sure that I speak for everybody. We all share a love for this place, but it is also a very individual thing. Personally, I love the opportunity, and the direction it gives me. You should ask this question to the other artists here, they would have a totally different answer. I think the artists never intended to have this place for themselves. It’s part of the wider, artistic community of Amsterdam.
How does it work for you to be an independent artist in a collective of artists? And how would you define your role?
To be, I mean, I would call myself the captain because the captain is one that leaves the ship last. But in other ways, I’m not trying to boss over anyone. I get a lot of inspiration from the folks I know, and the ideas people have, even when no art is around. The other day, I was just sitting at the bar discussing and trying to make plans for an exhibition. In comes a guy with a weird English accent claiming he was American. Turned out, when he got honest about it, he was a Russian traveling under a false name.
Well, he was a nice, fairly open minded cool guy. Nothing really art related, but he understood the place. And I think about 15, 20 minutes later, three Iranian girls that literally five days ago fled here from Tehran, came in. So we had a drink at the bar, the five of us. Totally weird situation. I never expected that that day, but it was very serious and very joyful.
So I really, really appreciate the public and the people that are coming. It’s not for charity, it’s for fun. Sometimes I sell work, but most of the time I just drink the energy and hear the stories, and store it for later.
So, I also do it for myself.
What do you do here?
So I joined the workshop downstairs, I think almost two years ago, right after graduating from the Rietveld Academy, where I studied for five years.
After that I moved into ceramics. I started using the oven that they had here. Then I naturally became a member and I started to see what needed to be done. Starting with organizing events, picking up things like the Instagram account, which I have no skill in. here’s a lot of things that need to be done. If you don’t pick it up, no one will. Sometimes I’m trying to do the program, trying to clean the toilets, trying to involve other members, promote ourselves as much as we can. So I’m a bit of an octopus.
I think maybe that’s the third time I’ve heard someone talk about the bathroom cleaning.
It’s a symbol. The collective is like that. It’s like the most trivial, simple, basic thing. That still proves to be very problematic. It’s the tip of the iceberg of tasks that need to be done.
To my understanding, the people involved in Vrij Paleis extend beyond the artists and the art on the wall. How would you characterize the people drawn to this place?
There are people who come here that you would never think are interested in a place like this. Yet they still come in, they stay, and are so amazed because they feel like they’ve entered a different universe by just daring to come in. That’s also why I feel a lot of people, a lot of tourists especially, are so insecure about coming in, because they don’t know what this is. They’ve never encountered something like this. They don’t know if this is a store, Is this a gallery? Am I allowed? Is it for free?
How is it being an artist in this collective?
We are all artists here and we just work in different diciplines. It’s very inspiring to enter a space where you see someone busy with something that you don’t know anything about – like what the hell is Francis doing with his stones and the chisel while looking at the ceiling?
What draws people to Vrij Paleis?
Thirst for alternatives and for authenticity. We don’t pretend we are something we’re not. That’s because you can feel that this is authentic in a fake commercial plastic world.
JAGODA
HESSEL
“Why this place is working is because they know what they can control and that’s the only thing they try to control. That’s really where most institutions fail in the Netherlands because they try to control everything. You should just control what you can control.”
ELLA
“I kind of like a little element of chaos and surprise in things, which I find in a very comfortable way in vrijpaleis, where it’s like OK, we’re doing something, we have a kind of a common goal. Nobody really knows how we’re gonna get there, but that’s totally fine because it works out anyway. Everybody fills their own role but nobody tells you what that is exactly.”
HESSEL
“You don’t have to fight anything. You just, yeah… but that’s what you get when you don’t do things for a reason. When you do everything for a reason then there’s no freedom and you’re just slaving for the reason. But if you don’t do that, nothing will happen to you. You will still be hungry, you will still be tired, you will still do what you enjoy. Whatever.”
HESSEL
“It’s ok to just start, things will become beautiful when you’re just thinking anyway. You don’t need to overthink it.”
When it goes right it becomes this really beautiful nice place, but then you shouldn’t cling onto that. It’ll be nice for ten, twenty, thirty, forty years, but then at some point you’re just dragging an old thing along while all the people who actually started it have died. Things become abstract. When the original people die it becomes this sort of holy institute and you cannot change it anymore because you are not the one who started it.
ELLA
“Just whatever is left I hope it stays, and I hope it grows, I don’t think it should be frozen like this forever. But I don’t think it’s even possible.”
Artwork: ‘I stopped watching porn: The creation story.’ – Hessel
ART IN CAVES
Sanna
It’s about the art, but it’s also about people just having fun. Those normal galleries are open during the day, 8 – 5, and it’s scary to step in because they’re so official. This is a much more natural place for art in my opinion, because that’s how it used to be. If you think about how we were once in caves and cave women started to do the first paintings, they had these parties around the fire and it was just about having some fun.
Artwork:
‘Great Ladies’ – Sanna
Nobody is on heroin anymore.
-Hessel
Noises of A Grumpy old Man
THE BEAT GOES ON.
By now just about everybody in Amsterdam knows the complaining about Amsterdam. How FUNKY it was in the seventies and eighties; how Mokum was a city with tourists, which was cool, and now it’s a tourist city, which is much less cool. How expats are the cause of everything getting way overpriced. How dangerous Amsterdam has become, how everybody is in a bad mood. And those are just a few superficial failures, Charlie Brown.
The Underdam team is not fazed by alla dem dark forces old folks' mutterings
They are inspired by the Magic Centre sixties, seventies, etc. Underdam knows it’s impossible to go living through the past, and that’s why they are determent to create something for 2023.
Looks to me like the right team at the right place, at the right time.
It’s a new Underground.
Are you picking up now?
There ya go. It’s word up and you know what time it is. Where too much commercialization results in division, the Underdam Movement, more than just a magazine, strives for Unity. Unity implies trust, and where there is trust there will be treats.
Their motto is:
The Beat Goes On.
It’s a positive Vibration.
Yours Truly – Iceburner
For ten years Nico den Braber and I were like brothers. Never a bad word spoken.
Today, I celebrate my old friend Jivin’ Nick
– Ice
In his book, Nico den Braber, a regular Amsterdam guy, goes ‘on the road’ at the age of 16. He drifts through France, Belgium, Germany and sleeps under bridges and in the fields, living on the money earned off street drawings and singing.
In 1963 he began a big trip to India with a friend, hitchhiking; together they had 10 New-Francs in their pocket. They reach India after 6 months and there they live for over a year as beggars. They end up in jail for ‘illegal stay’, read: an invalid visa. They are held as prisoners in the Indian lock-ups for 3 months. After this it’s once again traveling, through Turkey, the Middle-East, Afghanistan and West-Pakistan. During a second visit to India, Nico suffers from pleurisy and for a long time his life is in danger. Finally, very ill, he hitchhikes back to Europe
‘Too Hot To Go Any Further’ is a moving account; written straight from the heart which clearly shows a life on the edge of a smoking, old paradise bird. Nico den Braber left a very long life behind him. A life which for most of the East-ward traveling chicks, freaks, junkies and others with art at heart are still at the start.
NACHTBUS DIARIES
I’m bikeless in Houthavens. No sleep till Geuzenveld. Nachtbus only option. “It’s all good hop on mine till you are close to your stop, I’m Centraal bound”. Jumping off while speeding over bridge. Deep bone chilling wet Amsterdam cold, insufficient jacka. Walk to Buiten Oranjestraat, non-orange lights glint in fog. Arrival at stop, sole other occupant passed out on his back. 35 till Bus. Two cop cars fly past. 25 till bus. Cat tentatively examines me across road, then slinks off. 13 till bus. 7 till bus. I refrain from checking the time. Lights shine round corner as bus arrives. OV sound rings. Pure warmth feeling in the elevated window seat. Nothing looks clear as all light that enters the bus passes through droplets on the windows. Leidseplein comes prematurely, stops get chopped off the screen as time slips forward. Slow grind into Leidseplein, stabbed with freezing wind upon exit. Stop littered with the leftovers of late Leidse revelries. Sods shriek, girls grunt. The leather of my jacket has frozen and cools me off instead of keeping me warm. Info screen confuses. Google maps and 9292 conflict. Alas I wait, 55 till bus. Portuguese tourists scuffle with Dutch roadmen. Ends with shakes sorry and aid as passed-out girl is lifted onto bus. 35 till bus. Nearby old lady has a joint. What she doing here? 25 till bus. Old lady offers joint, “you have to get a girl to keep you warm!”. Unexpected advice, true, though not so helpful now.
Her name is Meidi, “Moved to Bijlmer in 90s, I work at cafe round the corner you should come!” Conversation carries on in Dutch Spanish English Portuguese in Amsterdam fashion. Bus nog steeds verloren, toes nog steeds vermist, cold consumes. Meidi’s pre-roll offers respite. Screen has unfairly reset, bus in an hour, heart crushing. Is bus at other stop? Unsuccessful mission. Return to my freezing nest. Meidi’s bus arrives brutally mid her sentence. Stoned and alone. Info screen still confusing. Still no bus – shoulda walked. Everyone else I know is sleeping. I achieve GVB martyrdom as the 3rd hour of waiting passes. Delirium saunters down the tram tracks into my mind. I think all the same thoughts again at least once more. The sky turns the same blue as my fingers and toes. Taxi drivers sit in the lane across pouring their eyes into their phones. Smoke mixes with the condensing water vapor exiting their lungs. Fountain gargles. Sky gets lighter – shoulda walked. There is a rumble in the air. My phone died hours before, grip on time lost. Now locked out by my landlord’s app-activated lock. My window is open hopefully. A rumble increases and confounds. Tram headlights round the corner, I would laugh, though I simply stare. In disbelief I mount the tram, GVB rings out once again, the driver wishing me a bewildered good morning which is barely returned. The landscape changes slowly as the creaky blue worm creeps street by street deeper west and I fall asleep, the tram gently rocking. I am shook awake by the driver as the eindpunt has been reached.
Jaro Mir
There sure are a lot of characters in the streets of Amsterdam. I only wish we could record half of the conversations we have…
We sure spent a weird afternoon together in the park the other day.
I remember I first saw Hiba when cycling. I stopped, and we talked. Normally I get a “Go away you pervert!”, sometimes a “You’re crazy”. I say, “Yeah, sure. You want to see my GGZ papers?” I can really act sometimes you know.
How long have you been performing on the streets or in parks?
I moved to the city when I was young. I got into drugs, of course, like every youngster. Amsterdam back in those days, it was heavy to come here. At one point I had a big camera and I liked graffiti because I did that back where I grew up. So I started to photograph graffiti and these junkies shooting up. They were busy with that, and I was busy with the camera.
Do you like performing for public audiences?
I exaggerate sometimes, but it can be pretty tough. If there’s a carpet laid out, I feel uncomfortable. If I know the situation a little, or I feel good with the people, and they see me as a human, that’s what I want. I feel very vulnerable. But if you have experienced life, then it has been beautiful.
What is your reason to perform?
I think it’s always personal. If I hadn’t had music, I would have died, probably. Because this gives me my main reason to be here you know. It’s pretty strong and intense, but I remember staring at my guitar for a few years without doing anything with it. That can really kick you in the face. Sometimes it’s about money. But money is bullshit. I have a hard time making money.
Aside from money, what are you paid in?
When I play guitar on the streets, it is mainly to work on my fears. Death was blocking me a lot, you know, That feeling of being happy or feeling happy, that’s not a natural state for me.
I feel when I work, when I can do things, I feel good. I have this fear that I could lose my hand or my hearing, so I work on that. I thought, okay, I’m deaf. I can write, I can draw. So I did that. I was very creative in finding solutions for my own fearful mind. And I worked very, very hard on that.
Is it lonely being a street artist?
Sure, I think that’s something you have to accept. I can only work when I commit myself to it. I could choose to party every night, for a time I really did take that course. I would always feel good on a Sunday to go out. Maybe I was against the establishment. My sister would call me on Mondays to remind me “it’s a new week, Jaro”.
How would you define a good crowd?
I don’t give a shit who’s there but a day not played is a day not lived, for me.
Nic
Creator of Underdam. He’s that cool motherfucker, wandering the streets of Amsterdam in search of whatever cool shit they have to offer. He’ll be gone for 5 minutes and come back with a tale of how he was involved in a rap battle on a street corner. That’s why we call him the master wanderer. Norwegian on the outside, Reggae on the inside.
Sander
The Renaissance man. This man can do anything from web design, to putting crowds in a musical trance with his DnB sets, to supplying the Underdam community as well as anyone who crosses his path with some good medicine. In fact, give him a stair set and he could most definitely kickflip down it.
Hiba
The underdam crew’s favourite pastime is watching Hiba arrive on her fast bike. She’s always calm and collected, boasting an air of mystery with her matrix like shades and black boots. She’s passionate about photography and design, but most of all, she’s a hash connoisseur, providing us with la crème de la crème of Amsterdam.
Iceburner
The paradise bird. Kees is a real Amsterdammer. He has never been away from Amsterdam for more than two weeks at a time. He has seen and been a part of the creative jungle of Amsterdam since the 1970s, and often tells these tales through his old film roles. Aside from photography, he writes and collects records. Ask him anything related to dub and reggae and he will provide some knowledge.
Renzy
Renzy is a part time photographer/ musician, and a full time sweet talker. All of this combines beautifully into the artistic melange that he is. If he’s not creating music he’s out jotting down half baked conversations looking for a linguistic exception. Moreover, he’s a wizard on the fiets.
Zsombor
Zsombor is that tall and suave looking man from Hungary. Being an experienced videographer, he can really work some magic with the camera and bless the magazine and in turn the world with his filmmaking. Aside from being a creative specimen, he is also a decent mathematician.
Aino
If Aino hadn’t graced the world with her presence, it may well have gone to shit a long time ago. She’s involved in every aspect of Underdam. She shows up with fresh new ideas that can be applied to every facet of the magazine and more. But most importantly she always comes through rocking the funkiest bandanas.
Leo
Finally it comes down to the author of these introductions. He is an international man of mystery with hair that would make tarzan jealous. Writing and discovering music are among the most important things in his life, however his true passion lies within those glimmering green packets of Golden Virginia.
Underdam reaches beyond the names written on this page. Whether you are an artist appearing in the magazine, a contributor to the cultural fabric or a reader, you are a key to Underdam and to this thirst for exploration that we hope will never be quenched.