A movie in which I play the lead – My time in San Diego

Something unexpected happened recently. I stumbled upon an old lecture I once gave—by pure chance. It was about my time in San Diego. And as I watched it, the story began to unfold before my eyes again. Like a movie. A memory I had almost forgotten, yet one that shaped me deeply. Not just as a person, but also as a professional artist. It’s time to share that story here, on this website. Because it’s special. And because it made me who I am today. But also because it was there that art and science met each other.

Where ART meets Science.

Balboa Park – a village of art and science

From the very first day in San Diego, I felt like I had stepped into a film. Everything just fit. The light, the atmosphere, the people. But most of all: Balboa Park.

A place as large as a village, made up entirely of museums. More than twelve of them. From art to science, aviation to natural history. Each museum the size of an IKEA!

I wandered around for days, alone, but never lonely. On the contrary, I felt completely in my element. In love - with the place, with the art, with life there. And then something happened that I could never have imagined.

The doctor of the future

Full of inspiration, I walked into the Museum of Science. As a former physics student, it was a joyful recognition. Interactive installations and experiments explaining the laws of physics in playful ways. Amazing to see children engage with it all.

And then, amid all those installations I saw something familiar. A photo. A face. My face! On the other side of the world, in the Museum of Science!

It was a photo my brother Jean had once taken of me - for a stock photography website. The title was “The scientific looking guy.” And there it was, unexpectedly, displayed in the middle of the museum. Large. Prominently placed. And above the photo, it read: The doctor of the future.

I had to laugh. First to myself, then out loud. People around me asked, “Is that really you?” I nodded. Photos followed. And the next day, I had a conversation with the museum director. He suggested taking a picture of me with the curator who had originally put the exhibition together. It felt like I was living in a surreal dream. The museum I had already fallen in love with offered me yet another unexpected gift.

Museum of the Living Artist – a dream comes true

Among all those museums, I also discovered the Museum of the Living Artist - a beautiful space entirely dedicated to local artists. The moment I walked in, I felt it: this is a place where my art belongs too. So I took a leap and asked at the front desk if they ever accepted international artists.

The answer? “Yes, once a year.” I was given a link to register. But when I saw what was required - titles, dimensions, physical artworks - I felt resistance. My paintings are large, transporting them would be a challenge. What if I could just paint there, live, in the museum?

So I went back. I pitched the idea: live painting, on site. The staff member looked at me, smiled broadly and said: “We’ve always wanted to do that! But we’ve never done it. And now you’re suggesting it?” Within five minutes, we were sitting down with a second staff member.

And just like that, it became reality. In the summer of 2013, I returned to San Diego for four unforgettable weeks as an artist in residence during the Summer School at Balboa Park. I had the chance to create five monumental artworks - live, in the museum, surrounded by visitors. In constant contact with people. The energy that flowed through those weeks was indescribable. And even now, years later, I still receive a Christmas card every year from a devoted fan who was there at the time.

Conversations, consultations, connections

Those weeks in San Diego weren’t just about art, but also about conversation. Deep encounters, spontaneous exchanges, and even a few tinnitus consultations that I gave on the spot. People found me, recognized something, and felt safe to open up. I cherish those connections. Some of them still reach out from time to time, even more than ten years later.

I met an interior designer who creates luxury homes and showed interest in my work. An art broker who saw opportunities. And an artist who once started as a hobbyist and is now an established name. These people left a lasting impression on me - and I hope, I believe, that the feeling is mutual.

A time that won’t return

It’s been a long time now. And I increasingly realize: America today is different. I’m not sure this would still be possible. That openness, that trust, that natural space to try something new. Maybe it’s exactly that which makes this memory so precious.

A golden memory

That old lecture I recently rewatched brought everything back to life. The colors, the people, the feeling. And I was struck by how defining that chapter has been. San Diego didn’t just give me memories - it gave me direction. It shaped me as an artist. And maybe that’s exactly why I want to share this story. Because it shows what can happen when you dare to dream - and dare to live your own movie.

And the best part? That movie still lives inside me.

That summer of 2013 - working and painting in the museum every day, surrounded by curious visitors and unexpected conversations—gave me so much. It wasn’t just about the artworks that emerged, but also about the encounters, the stories, the looks on people’s faces when they were moved. It’s those experiences I now, years later, try to relive. To capture them again. To revisit them. Because they still say something about who I was back then - and about who I have become today.

To be continued.

Één van de vijf kunstwerken. Tweeluik DS13005 DS13006.