Surprise Party for the Police

We disagreed with the police losing their free Sundays, so we called them to complain about ourselves. Then we greeted the officers with a mobile sound system, confetti and a surprise party.

We disagreed with the police losing their free Sundays, so we called them to complain about ourselves. Then we greeted the officers with a mobile sound system, confetti and a surprise party.

Burning Man has a temple. Amsterdam got a cradle. We created a participatory installation where people could leave something behind, then burned the lot during a barefoot festival ritual.

A fully operational pool party appearing, exploding and disappearing from Amsterdam’s Zuidas within an hour. Fire truck, DJ mobile, inflatable pools and enough pineapple-flavoured mischief to make the morning papers.

How do you make festival crowds trust tap water? Brand it like the beer they already order. We turned Dutch slang for tap water into Gemeentepils, refillable bottles and a festival idea that kept returning.

No fences, no tickets, no spectators and barely any budget. We started an Amsterdam regional Burn so the culture of Burning Man could exist a little closer to home, entirely through participation.

An inflatable-sausage-powered rave in HEMA’s Amsterdam flagship store. What began as a surprise party became national news, a documentary cameo and one of the stranger things ever done near the underwear department.

Our mobile sound system needed publicity; Amsterdam public transport workers needed support. The obvious solution was a rave on the metro, which became much bigger than anyone, including the GVB, had planned.

An art project about women’s emancipation led to a museum performance about the awkwardness of being a male advertising creative talking about women’s emancipation. So I made that awkwardness the work.

Winter depression met inflatable crocodiles. Amsterdam Plens Event was a deliberately childish indoor pool party for adults, complete with retro music, synchronised swimming and a Red Belly Contest nobody really needed.

No sponsor, no permit, no complicated programme. Just hundreds of people, a pile of pillows and Amsterdam’s most symbolic square reclaimed for the friendliest fight we could organise.