Case # Krowji

Tuesday we followed the signs towards Redruth, where we had an appointment at Krowji with boardshaper James Otter. Krowji is “...Cornwall’s biggest creative cluster, providing studios, workspaces, offices, The Melting Pot Café, meeting rooms and other facilities for a wide range of creative businesses at the Old Grammar School buildings in Redruth” (http://www.krowji.org.uk). Krowji as a site is owned by Cornwall Arts Centre Trust Ltd (ACT) - a charity and limited company. Krowji means “workshop” in Cornish and as a location the Krowji is providing separate space facilities to individual companies or organizations, in total over 100 creative practitioners.

One of these is the Otter Surfboards (http://www.ottersurfboards.co.uk) owned by craftsman, designer and surfer, James Otter. His space is a board-shapery, where the shaping of wooden surf boards primarily is done with locally produced cedar wood. The main object of the business for James is the workshops, where he tutors surfers to build and shape their own boards. Of course, we fell in love with the concept already before we entered the Otter space: The idea of combining board shaping and sustainability must be the ideal birth of a board for any environmentally conscious and ideological surfer. Wooden boards not only materializes the history of surfing back to ancient Polynesia, they also symbolize the lifelong relation between a surfer and his board. With a wooden board you can choose to learn to surf your board in all conditions instead of zapping through different shapes to match the challenges of the waves. That is, at least, how James perceives it, and I like the idea.

Entering the light, wood smelling space of Otter, we stepped directly into what for us as a couple would be the dream work place: A craftsman’s workshop combined with a little exhibition entrance and an office with personal props and a dog resting underneath the table. James himself primarily chose the Krowji as his space provider because the  organization allows residents to rent their space with only one month notice, which is exactly why small start ups like Otter Surfboards can afford being there: they do not have to sign a long term rental agreement.

The Krowji as a co-working space is enormous, and ACT is an organization, that might support more agents than you could ever find within the creative sector in a low population density municipality like Thisted. But it is interesting that the cluster community serves both as an upstart facilitator and space provider for its members. By combining the two, the ACT is actually supplying the Krowji with residents - who do not have to attach themselves to the place for a prolonged period.

Additionally, the wide spectra of business types is a quite unique example in our co-working research. On one hand, James’ shapery does not belong to the group, we usually consider to be within the cultural sector or to the typical target group businesses of a co-working space. But there is a charm in combining the creative professions working with ideas with the crafts working with materials. Otter Surfboards is a brilliant example in which a craftsmanship is guided by the work of shaping an idea, and as metioned above: Imagine the combination of a carpenter’s workshop and a writers office. I like it.

otter1

tim shaping

otter2

otter storyboard

Case # The Open Shed

Behind the Penzance Savoy Cinema in an interimistic bike repair kitchen, we walk into the Open Shed, a crowdfunded hackspace, and are kindly welcomed by Johannes (http://www.openshed.org). Here hackers, bike repairs-men, and computer-recyclers come together in a sustainable survivor atmosphere. First, we do not quite understand the connection between the so-called “bike kitchen” and a co-working space for IT-workers, but the link appears to be the re-use of hardware parts and the ability to (partly) fund the place with the small payments, the bike-fixers charge for a repair.

Johannes gives us the tour of the stuffed location, adding a grass-rooted example to the list of visited co-working spaces. Tools, bikes, boxes, computer parts, trash, worn out furnitures and bits and pieces I cannot identify are occupying the backroom spaces leaving very little floor for movement or conversation (http://openshed.org/content/empty-shelves-full-shelves). This seems to be a place where the financial state of the peninsula is most explicit: no municipal funds are given to the initiative that only charge its 50 members 10 pounds a month for a membership. Do you fix a bike, half the price is given to the space, the other half you can keep yourself.

According to Johannes, it seems as if the financial state of Penzance and Cornwall in general, forces the population of the peninsula to reinvent not only a sustainable industry (since tourism apparently is not enough), but also an identity (since being a tourist destination should not be it). The Open Shed appears to us as a complex picture of this state of development - as a revelation of the need to be part of a work community even when you are out of work and the initiative to create something even though you have no capital to invest.

Case # Digital Peninsula Network

On our Monday visit to Penzance we knocked on the doors of Digital Peninsula Network, DPN (http://www.digitalpeninsula.org). The largest network of ICT and digital businesses in Cornwall is physically located in an old brewery yard behind the shopping district. Here we were friendly welcomed by an assistant manager, who was still awaiting his managing director to return from his holidays. We had a short conversation on the topic DPN, whilst the AM made a note for his boss and referred me to other places in Penzance (handing me torn pieces of paper with handwritten addresses, which reminded me that there still are people like me who exchange info in paper format).

As I had already acknowledge through my research, the DPN was initiated as a space for the creatives of Cornwall to come and use proper wifi since the peninsula did not have any strong connections. Now - almost 15 years later - the company works more in state of it's networking capacities offering tutoring courses and matchmaking consulting.

At DPN the tea and coffee are free and as we talk to two hot-deskers smoking in the yard, we realize that being around other self employees and a 3d printer is more important to the coworkers than strong wifi since fiber is now installed almost everywhere in Cornwall. The smoking hot-deskers cannot imagine living anyplace else than here, but they admit that making money is hard if it was not because of the geographical detachment of their professions.

Again, I return to Penzance on the following Wednesday but when I reach DPN the manager Janus had just left. One more time the Colombian Assistant Manager takes his time to answer some of my questions, even though he seems careful to admit his complete insight in the organization of DPN. He tells us that DPN as the oldest coworking space in Cornwall, started out of the need for strong wifi, computer equipment and hardware. The EU Regional Development Aid and the “Objective One Programme” (http://www.objectiveone.com) helped start up the DPN. Today it is an organization limited by guarantee with a board, a director and a manager. The DPN primarily functions as a networking platform, and a start up and hotdesking space. Companies that used to be located in the DPN facilities but now has grown bigger keep their virtual membership, small start ups come for tutor and network aid and hot-deskers work there to socialize. The DPN is for businesses within the ICT sector - or so it happened to be by itself, no official criterias demand the business code.

Case # The Workbox Penzance

Monday morning the plan was to go to the port town Penzance even though I had no luck making an appointment with any of the coworking spaces, I managed to locate in the Penzance area. I was hoping to find a more realistic everyday view of the Cornish life than the one we encountered in St. Paradis, since what I was trying to uncover was not the tourist tracks but the way of life of the local self-employed or the travellers staying in Cornwall for a longer period of time.

The economy of Penzance has, like those of many Cornish communities, suffered from the decline of the traditional industries of fishing, mining and agriculture. Like the rest of Cornwall housing remains comparatively expensive, wages low and unemployment high which means that local residents are struggling to make it. As a visitor, though, it can be difficult to distinguish the activities of the locals from those of the non-locals, so the strategy was to knock on the doors of my potential coworking fellows, public holidays or not, and look for the reality of the self-employed coworker in one of the most employment deprivated areas in England.

Unfortunately, I must admit that I passed the location of The Workbox Penzance (http://theworkbox.com) more than once before I realized that I was at the right address. The rather new coworking space is to be found in an anonymous brick office building in the center of Penzance. Nevertheless, from the construction site embracing the ground floor entrance, you could imagine the views to be found on the 4th floor. I did not get to see them though, cause when I rang the doorbell nobody answered.

After popping by some other spaces in Penzance equally derelict of busy coworkers, we decided to come back another day and instead turn the car towards Lands End, the most Western point of England. The beauty of it all stroke us as we made our way down the coast through narrow uphill and downhill streets, past sidewalks and gardens blooming with flowers, through broadleaf forests, along spectacular coastal cliffs and sandy beaches and a completely turkish Atlantic ocean illuminating everything below us. To most people (including myself), I am not sure Klitmoller can compete with the rock sand, hydrangeas and palm trees of Cornwall...

Anyways, on my return to The Workbox the following Wednesday, I was buzzed in by Nigel who, unfortunately, had very little time to chat. Entering The Workbox from the escalator, you are taken by the views overlooking Penzance, and even when trying to focus on the interior or the man speaking in front of you, eyes are drawn towards the light and beauty outside. Truth is, I do not recall much of the decoration, maybe because it was still too new to be personalized and did not leave any sign of its users. While talking to Nigel, though it was only shortly, I tried to neglect the smell of new furnitures, wishing I had a little more time to explore the flexible and transparent interior choices of the space.

The Workbox opened in April this year and now has approximately 30 members, primarily within the IT sector. Through seminars and workshops on various topics and in close collaboration with local colleagues and other organisations such as Outset Cornwall (www.outsetcornwall.co.uk) the space provides its residents with start up help and other networking opportunities. It seems that this is the most common coworking space service in Cornwall: To enable people to start as independents through financial advisory and marketing guidance.

The model of start up business assistance is currently being implemented in The Municipality of Thisted through Thy Erhvervsforum. I am excited about the outcome. Seems that the service is an important entrance to funding and realization of coworking spaces.

Case # Cornwall

Coworking has been a well-known phenomenon in Cornwall for almost three decades. Creatives, IT-workers and self-employed went to places like The Digital Peninsula Network (http://www.digitalpeninsula.org) to be able to work with a proper wifi before any private household wifi could do anything. Today every nook and cranny of the county Cornwall has got the superfast broadband and when it is installed in the Cornish cities also, Cornwall will - according to http://www.gradcornwall.co.uk/living-working-cornwall - “be one of the best and fastest connected places on earth, offering businesses a clear, competitive advantage”.

After the awesome output from especially the visit to Portuguese Óbidos, I was afraid to get my hopes up too high before taking off to the British south-west peninsula Cornwall. Luckily, I chose to buy a ticket for my own personal chauffeur (and boyfriend), so at least I would not have to worry about many hours of driving whilst chasing the good cases.

We landed in Bristol on a cloudy Saturday morning, thinking that we had a hole day of research in front of us. Apparently, we knew nothing about the British highway queues! Arriving in St. Ives six hours later, we only had the energy for a stroll, a chit-chat with the lifeguard on duty and a veggie burger at the local café (though it should not go unnoticed that this was the best beach burger I had in my life).

Waking up at dawn the following morning, we went for a long walk & talk in St. Ives (that quickly became St. Paradis in my vocabulary). A large percent of the the seaside town’s income is based on being a popular holiday resort, and faced with the scenery of the place you get a clear picture of why this place is preferred by so many British tourists. Unfortunately, the main surf beach of St. Ives, Porthmeor Beach, was empty and the Atlantic Ocean flat. In our quest for the surf spirit of Cornwall we headed North towards the very long surf beach Gwithian. Here the crowds were going in the water, though, even for a surfer coming from Denmark, the conditions looked ridiculously shitty. So we went back into the car and made our way up to Portreath, where the surf historian geek inside me had the satisfaction of visiting the Portreath Surf Life Saving Club (http://www.portreathslsc.co.uk). Inspired by the Australian and South African models, the British Surf Lifesaving Clubs were the starting points for many committed and progressive young surfers of the late 1950s and the 60s. Out of the love for the ocean and the meeting with visiting lifeguards (and surfers) from Australia and South Africa grew a passionate community of surfers and by 1964 the new social groups of British surfers had adapted the surfie lifestyle of the Californian surf culture and became an important asset in the tourist industry’s branding of coastal Britain. The story is repeated in many different locations and shifting decades throughout the world, but especially the Australian and British popular surf scene is still closely intertwined with the Surf Life Saving Clubs and the voluntary work they perform to educate, train, encourage and support the local communities of watermen (or waterkids).

The patrolling life guard at Portreath beach told us to go further North searching for waves, so we continued towards Chapels Porth after a stop over in Aggies Surfshop (http://www.aggiesurfshop.com), where we had to rescue ourselves (or rather our personal capital) from the temptation to buy some of Aggies beautiful boards (among these I fell in love with an original second hand Cord longboard). At Chapels Porth rain was falling, current was strong, tide was low and waves were breaking in a messy mess, but people were still hanging out on the beach and eating their picnic with surf boards set as tables.

No surf, we thought, and decided to try to get to Fistral Beach for the Boardmasters final and maybe even the chance to hear Ben Howard play at the festival (http://www.boardmasters.co.uk). To put it in few words: No Fistral for us, no Ben Howard this time. The hole Newquay area was one big traffic jam and there was no parking space to be found anywhere near the fistral festival area. We had to settle with the downtown tourist track and some browsing in surf shops (with views).

Heading back to our hotel we decided to try Gwithian again, and since I am no longer allowed to surf (that is my perception of it, of course, I do not have to mention I would probably give birth to a flat baby if I continue lying on my stomach on a board), I was forced to try the Sunset Café while Claus went into the ridiculously shitty waves. Nevertheless, I had some quality time observing the Sunday living life of the vacationing British surfer families, interrogate the far to busy café people and hang out with a very lifelike poster of Kelly Slater. By the end of the day, I did not feel like neither a researcher, a surfer nor a tourist. I just felt lucky.

st. ives harbour low tide

st.ives:st.paradis

gwithian

aggie the board shaper

beach patrole

surfshop with a view

show respect, gain respect

Case # CoworkLisboa

Following the recommendation of Pedro, I only scheduled one visit in Lisbon during my 20 hour stay in the Portuguese capital. I was told to go and see CoworkLisboa located in the LX Factory (Fábrica LX) in the old industry district of Alcântara underneath the Ponte 25 de Abril.

Determined to walk the entire way from the hotel to my destination, I was not just fashionable late on a Friday afternoon and my semi-appointment with founder and owner of CoworkLisboa, Fernando Mendes, became a rather short talk since Fernando was off to have Friday night supper with his family. Luckily, I could continue the conversation with the manager, Laura Alves.

The LX Factory almost cannot be compared to anything - but since we like to understand things in matter of comparison it is sort of a nicer, more ambitious, newer and less stoned version of Danish Christiania. Here you will find lots of creative business, shops and showrooms, organic cafés, sushi bars, ice cream joints and Indian clothing. Mixed with the raw appearance of the graffiti covered old warehouses.

CoworkLisboa is located on the 4th floor of one of the central aisle streets with stunning views of the city. The place was established by Fernando 3 and half years ago, being the first of its kind in Lisbon. The coworking space is one of the biggest, I have visited, yet also one of the most original and thought-through. Looking around I found myself in something emerging as a fusion between an artist studio, a private living room, a cozy bar and a serious work space but, from my point of view, the mixture was successful.

Treated with organic strawberries and friendly smiles, I circled around for a while after talking with Laura, and in my quiet mind I added Lisbon to one of the places, I want to bring my work whenever I can. That is the sentiment you get, when visiting CoworkLisboa.

http://coworklisboa.pt

LXFactory1

LXFactory2

Cowork-Lisboa-flow

Cowork-Lisboa-organic-veggies

Cowork-Lisboa-workflow

Cowork-Lisboa#leginatub#

Cowork-Lisboa#whythisleginatub#

Cowork-Lisboa-Fernando&SweetWife

Case # COLab Óbidos

During my research I came across an article regarding creative-based strategies in small cities. One of the 3 cases discussed in the paper was Óbidos. Had I known that the present coworking space in Óbidos, the COLab, would be such an inspirational and like-minded place, I might have gone to Portugal earlier in the project period. And brought Rasmus with me for him to experience the energy, the tolerance and the openness of the colab’ers.

The specific coworking society in Óbidos might not be exactly as we imagine ours to be. But the overall concept is precisely like ours: to develop an open source generic blueprint and to implement a pilot project serving as a test zone for the blueprint. Pedro is 6 months ahead of us and during that period, the COLab has housed more than 50 events. A high level of activity and a lot of knocking on doors were necessary, according to Pedro, since the space opened before the community was established. In accordance with the cultural policy of Óbidos, the Municipality offered to pay the rental expenses of the premises, and so it happened that Pedro from one day to the other had a COLab.

While talking to Pedro, I cannot help thinking how different the building is from my hotel and the village houses: The room is light, airy, and warm as oppose to the cold, dark and humid insides of typical South European brick houses. Pedro is aware of this, and he tells me that the atmosphere of the building actually attracts creatives who otherwise would be working at home.

Pedro himself is from Angola, grew up in Portugal and then moved to Finland and Estonia throughout a decade to be with his Finnish wife. He laughs when I politely stretch out my arm 5 meters before approaching a person to avoid the obligatory cheek kissing, he hears my African Portuguese accent and he knows the differences between being self-employed in the Southern part of Europe versus the Scandinavian countries. All of this makes it very easy to exchange experiences and ideas with Pedro, and of course - since this is what I came for - I would have loved to stay longer at the COLab.

Especially the laboratory-mentality of the COLab (COLab refers to CO(working)Lab(oratory) and not collaboration) comes to my attention as something quite extraordinary: events like “the unconference”, “the dreamlab” and “summer camp” are so unconventional and inclusive that the work/work perception of working in Denmark seems slightly boring compared to the work/life attitude, I encounter in Portugal. Through “the dreamlab” and “summer camps” children and youngsters learn how to love work even before they know what it is. Abilities, ideas and thoughts are perceived as passion, and passion is adapted into work. I might be interpreting, but this is nevertheless how I saw it.

After having a typical Portuguese lunch with Pedro, I stay at The COLab to make my notes and enjoy the late afternoon sounds rising from the market street below. Sun is still shining in the room, and as I write questions keep popping up my mind. The COLab is already to be implemented in Istanbul and Finland. I wonder if the concept would be sustainable in Denmark or if it takes to much of a coworker for the busy self-employed Danish person to enjoy and explore the social aspects of a COLab-concept. So far The Cold Hawaii Starfish is invited to a virtual “Friday’s Hang Out” with the COLab in Óbidos.

CoLab-entrance

CoLab-sun

CoLab-desks

Case # Deskowitz Amsterdam

The last minute, before leaving Amsterdam, I had the chance to visit Deskowitz and talk to one of the two co-owners Bram. Unfortunately, he was short of time, so neither the interview nor my stay in the space were very extensive. The reason why I wanted to go to Deskowitz and not to one of the many other coworking spaces in Amsterdam was the operationalized ambition of running a self-managed coworking space. This I made out of a Dutch web site so of course I was anxious to know if I had mistranslated the concept.

Like at The HUB Amsterdam, I had to buzz my way into the building of Deskowitz - an old public redstone house with views to the Museum Park. Though the entryway clearly belonged to Deskowitz, as did the rest of the ground floor facilities, I had to ring the door once more from the authentic station-like hall. Inside, talking to Bram, I once again found myself in a light, high ceilinged space furnitured with recycled materials though this one was separated into 3 commons with both private and public desks.

The significant difference between The HUB Amsterdam (or any other HUBs for that matter) and Deskowitz is the managing aspect. At the HUB Amsterdam coworker contact, visitor contact and administration were operated by hosts or managers present on a daily basis. At Deskowitz the owners attempt to eliminate all human expenses and transfer all the managing operations to the online services. To benefit from these services, though, you have to be a member and to be a member you have to be approved as such - by the owners. This leaves no space for daily visitors, but where The HUB Amsterdam did not promote the daily offers to preserve the community feeling among the more permanent residents, Deskowitz has not yet taken in daily guest due to the amount of administration.

The atmosphere of Deskowitz was relaxed and quiet - each coworker concentrated on their own business. I left quickly, regretting not to have more time with Bram, but relieved to have been to 3 so very different spaces in Amsterdam. Next stop Portugal.

Deskowitz-hallway

Dekowitz-entrance

Deskowitz-desk

Deskowitz-kitchen

Case # The HUB Amsterdam

On my second day in Amsterdam I rode my bike along the canals towards Westerstraat, which is a flea market street buzzing with traders, tourists and immigrants even on an ordinary Monday morning. My destination was the HUB Amsterdam, which is one of the coworking spaces related to the global HUB organization present in more than 30 cities across all 5 continents: http://www.the-hub.net/# The HUB Amsterdam did not announce its location other than by house number and a small door sign leading me to think the place could not be in need of public promotion. Once I got inside the distinguished entryway I reached a locked glass door, and realized surprisingly that for me to enter the HUB Amsterdam I not only had to ring the doorbell, I also had to wait for a host to come and pick me up at the ground floor.

Almost embarrassed by the formality of my reception I followed the host Somaye to the 3rd floor of the fancy building, where she guided me through the high-ceilinged hallway to the main room of the coworking space, a large common with green plants, comfortable office chairs, organically shaped desks made with recycle materials and natural sunlight illuminating the space through huge windows facing both the streets and the opposite site of the building (no doubt someone had been thinking about anti-stress decor while furnishing this place!).

I could go on about the interior design of The HUB Amsterdam (I even think I spotted the dining table as a Piet van Eek piece while chatting with some of the coworkers over lunch), but after being seduced by the pleasant decor, soothed by the sound of water running through the self-managing lettuce gartnery and politely greeted by whomever I addressed, I began to feel misplaced. Perhaps because of my anthropological agenda, my observational attitude or my protruding belly I felt all eyes on me, but as conversation (or interview I would rather call it since the formal and discrete manners of my host did not vanish throughout my visit) unfolded I noticed that, for me at least, the HUB Amsterdam seemed very closed in on itself despite the number of 350 members.

The HUB has an overall theme of sustainability, the official objective description being: The HUB is designed to facilitate the creation of sustainable impact through collaboration. Therefore all HUB members has to work with sustainability or some aspect of the concept resulting in a formal take in of coworking applicants. We plan to do a similar procedure to ensure the matchmaking potentials and the professional community of our coworking space (in the specific case of Klitmøller), but where The HUB Amsterdam did not seem to be too concerned with filling out their space, the flow of beta-residents is crucial to the conceptual survival and economic sustainability of the space we plan to create. My HUB experience lead me to reconsider the social mechanisms of a coworking space and the alfa-, beta- or gamma-residents it is designed to serve. How do we create a space as pleasurable and work encouraging as The HUB Amsterdam, while we also signal openness, cooperativeness and social interest towards the beta-residents, the daily visitors, the researchers, the students or whomever entering the MZ1 from the outside?

Cleaning my coffee cup in the open kitchen, wrapping myself up again and greeting my friendly host politely goodbye before exiting the fancy building again, I wondered about the response I would receive on the follow up questions I felt was appearing in my information overloaded head.

hub-hallway

hub-open kitchen

hub-events

hub-lettuce gartnery

hub-the ones

Case # NDSM Shipyard Amsterdam

On my way to Portugal, I decided to elongate my stopover in Amsterdam to check out some of the more metropolitan coworking spaces. I knew from my research that coworking in Amsterdam is a popular office solution in a city where square meters are very expensive due to the density of the urban population. Some public amsterdamse coworking spaces even offer their services for free in the attempt to address the enormous need for deskspace among students, creatives, freelancers, self employed and small business owners. Walking through the old city in the Sunday morning sunlight, I could not help to think that I might have been wrong about going to Amsterdam. Without offending anybody you could say that Dutch people and Danish people are very much alike. Both our languages are kind of funny sounding and unknown to the rest of the world, our countries are flat and has only a few serious surfing destinations, our capitals have a good infrastructure, millions of bikes, very pretty people, water all around and a creative industry that marks itself in our national economy. But even though the Dutch nation reminded me so much of the Danish, it did not seem relevant in the context of The Matchmaking Zones and the effort to make a generic blueprint designed to solve the challenges of a rural creative industry.

I quickly made my way through the city and got on board one of the small free ferries pendling back and forth between the Central Station and the cityscape on the other side of the IJ. Wanting to get away from the tourist crowds and into the “real” Amsterdam, I was almost relieved when I found myself alone on a deserted harbourfront watching everybody else purposefully drift away into different directions. Since I on board the ferry had spotted the 4 enormous letters signifying the item of my interest to the place, I knew I was in the right location, and chose to follow behind some grommits on skateboards who - I assumed - were aiming for the skate park inside the NDSM Shipyard.

Tracking the small skaters I entered a graffiti covered heavy iron door, walked through an enormous “stripped off purchase” ship construction hall towards a broad wooden staircase leading me to the skate park - a construction that seemed to be hanging from the 50 feet ceiling only connected to the concrete ground with some iron pillars. By the top of the stairs, I found myself in a skate arena among patiently waiting parents all occupied with their tablets. I was entertained by the organization and discipline of what went on inside the skate area, but considered my presence a little awkward without my own child to watch over, so I left the noises of the wheels against concrete and went back down to re-enter another heavy iron door.

Here I found what appeared to be the coworking society of the NDSM. Today was Sunday, though, and nobody was there besides me, or at least so I thought. The place was so big, I would not know if anyone else was there. I walked down a broad diagonal path with two storeys improvised workshop spaces on either side. All materials looked recycled, creating a makeshift design probably changing by the day. In and around the shipyard I encountered all types of recycle solutions, signs of previous events, old Volkswagen busses, autonomous gardens and other mixes of things left behind for someone or something to give it a new meaning.

For me, though, the experience was pervaded with an absence of meaning. I found myself a little lost, not even enjoying the autonomy of the place since nothing gave away the atmosphere I had expected to find. Deciding to return for more volume the following day, I escaped the empty space and aimed for the nearby Noorderlicht Café. In the warm, cozy light inside the old green house I regaled myself with chocolate cake and super-hot coffee. This place was addictive and if it was not for the other items on my list, I would have stayed throughout my 48 hours in Amsterdam.

On my return to the NDSM Shipyard, I did not become much more informed. Again I was only discretely greeted and remotely answered. Today, though, there were activities going on in the building, loud noises from grinding machines, welding and trucks. It was obvious that the place is primarily occupied by artists’ studios, workshops and ateliers, and the few constructed rooms housing people with computers were closed almost ceiled (maybe to create less disturbance for the residents).

The NDSM Shipyard is an old industrial area transformed into a workspace for creative industries and a skate park for the public of Amsterdam. You can compare the place to Christiania, The Meat District on Vesterbro or The Institute in Aarhus, but bottom line is: people do not resident here (as in having their home here), they work here (including all perceptions of the term work). At least so it seems. The place is very raw, very secretive, and undefinable. There are no central office, hardly any name sign on the doors, if the door is actually a door, and the web page is mastered in a chaotic mixture of English and Dutch.

I took the ferry back on my yellow amsterdamse bike concluding to myself that the NDSM Shipyard definitely was a metropolitan experience high lightning the autonomy and anonymity of the user of urban spaces.

NDSM-entering the shipyard

NDSM main entrance

NDSM buildings inside buildings

NDSM map

NDSM Café Noorderlicht

NDSM brownie-licious

my yellow amsterdamse