I’d like to imagine that some of you are asking yourselves ” dutchslavetrade? why dutchslavetrade? ” Here’s the story. I went to Holland for the first time in 2003. I was very excited about the prospect of going at the first mention of the opportunity. Firstly, for getting the chance to go elsewhere, secondly, my last name is Holland. Growing up, I frequently had to say, when giving my name, “Holland, like the country.” So the idea of going through customs with a passport with the surname Holland was parallel to coming through LAX with a passport reading “Captain America.” When the moment arrived, me, my passport, the customs agent… the flatness of the lowland reality greeted me. Some hours later I was drinking Heinekens with some locals and I expressed that I was surprised that the beer was still so skunky, being in the town that it was brewed in. I told them that I had previously drank Heineken because “..if you hold the american label the right way you it reads ‘Ken Holland’. We all laughed they said ” no. it’s always horrible” and began talking about the Dutch’s role in the slave trade, whaling, mining, oil…etc. The next day I was in the lobby of the hotel waiting for some reason. I drew this plant sitting on a window sill a few times in my sketchbook. I drew this from those sketchbook drawings when I returned.