sleeping late, and sleeping some more

tired, more tired, dreaming, a bit galling

doing some laundry, drying, folding it away

and one more siesta in the end

feeling guilty, vague: ‘what a pity, this beautiful day...’

at last I go out

cycling, the wind on my skin, almost too cold

in a bookshop picking up one book after another, bored

and than the ‘damn’-feeling:

I was supposed to write myself, I want to write now

shit, no paper, no pen

no problem

I’m in a bar: ‘do I have anything to tell at all, to write?’

‘why do I want to do this in the first place?’

killing the idea even before it is born!

so I write, I write, I write...



September 1th

Tomorrow, september 1th, some of my art will be sold by auction in Teddy Kids International Kindergarten in Leiden. A part (30 percent) of the profit will go to the Willem Alexander Children Fund.

Along with my art, there will be art of Eugenio Eijck (my brother) and other artists, including the children from Teddy Kids.

The auction will start at 17.00. 

You're welcome to preview the art from 16.30.

Teddy Kids

Zeemanlaan 22A


dance of the animals, part 3

And here is another animal. It looks like a camel, but it is born out of fantasy,lines and color. 

Besides, the background is the table in my studio. It forms an eternal inspiration with all its spots of paint, ink and glue, each one unique and able to get me to make all kind of new creatures.

dance of the animals, part 2

I keep on painting and drawing animals. Can't get enough of them. So for the coming days I'll be posting animals, strange creatures and more animals.


Deep down, hidden

Hunderds of thousands

Millons of words,

Billons of letters

I found a colourful

Worth following


The dreambeast:

"Come, climb on my back. 

There I build a house for you. 

Come, I'll take you there where your dreams send you"

a very small story

circling and circling in the same rounds
all that exist is the ink-dark night

but when I look through my openend heart
the black becomes a whirling of life

my soul is a house

my soul is a house

Sometimes my soul is a house full of warmth, full of rest, full of light.
Than the trees make music.
Than the red tulip shines.
And the colors, the words come to me.
I don’t need to look for them.

Page 5, ‘Book of Life’