1. The Total Tramp, 2004.
What makes a man give up all securities?
He looked at me and spoke:
You resemble my sister.
You resemble me,
Before I lost myself in drugs..
He touched my soul with this remark, and mage me
realize more,
How fragile "safe" existence is,
And how somebody can take a "wrong" turn,
In the road called life.
Coming from Pakistan,
Now struggling on the streets of Amsterdam.
Black ink on paper.
Seize 19.5 cm - 29 cm.
Seize 7.75 inch - 11.4 inch
2. The Wanderer, 2002.
What makes a man give up all securities?
Or didn't he had a choiceHe was touched by the innocence and friendliness of my
dog.
And forgot while petting her,
His worries and hunger.
He smiled at me,
And shared his moment of happiness.
Coming from Jamaica,
Now struggling on the streets of Amsterdam.
Black ink on white paper.
Seize 42 cm - 59.2 cm
Seize 16.5 inch - 23.3 inch
3. The Gardener, 1999.
What motivates a man, to live and work in the middle
of nowhere?
Or didn't he had a choice..
Passing by a fence made out of cactuses,
This gentle man
Caught my eyes for years, when I passed by on my way
to Lac Bay, Bonaire.
Always the same descent pants, no shirt,
And the gardening tool in his hands.
The burning sun, nor the strong winds could stop him,
Always working the land.
I could not stop wandering,
What would have happened,
If this man was born in Amsterdam?
Blue, green and white color-pencil,
On gray passe partout paper.
Seize 46 cm - 36 cm
Seize 18 inch - 14.3 inch
4. The Lonely Drinker, 1994.
What makes a man give up all securities?
Old pub, lonely figure, staring at his drink.
A lost soul, somebody who tries to wash away daily
worries?
Maybe his love left him, because he was always drunk.
Or he left his love, because she always nagged about
him being drunk.
Maybe he choose to be single,
Because he liked the silence more.
Maybe he just got fired, maybe he's broke.
Maybe he lost a loved one,
And finds his share of happiness in his drinkHe definitely is a trigger for my imagination.
Watercolors on paper.
Seize 12 cm - 10 cm
Seize 4.75 inch - 3.95 inch
5. The Fisherman, 1997.
Armed with a backpack,
And lacked of any form of luxury,
I traveled Venezuela, from north to south.
We met this fisherman,
In a little pirate village, called Porto Colombia.
He wasn't spoiled nor wealthy,
He did not miss luxury, like me.
According to what I saw,
His only possessions,
Where the fishes he caught that day.
He carried them with pride.
Simplicity in the use of my colors,
Green, sienna, oxidized red and white.
Acrylic under-painting,
Soft pastel sketch,
And finished with oil-paint.
Seize to be followed.
