My name is Roy van Veen (1970). I am interested in what people drives. I analyse and write. I’m a (theater)photographer and playwright. And I produce theater that encourages new perspectives.
The suggestion of shared values
We live in a fast-paced world where we like to work with labels and boxes. This makes it easy to quickly determine whether someone is interesting to you or not. Whether someone is in your bubble or not. And whether they fit into a certain curve or not. People are sorted and selected. Judgments are made automatically. And, by extension, condemnation follows as soon as someone reacts or acts differently. It is a short-sightedness that I have little use for and will always oppose.
We share an experience equally with other people, but interpret it individually based on our background, upbringing, and sensory information. We expect responses from the people we talk to based on how we see them and on how we experience the world. This suggests shared values, but that is not the case. The other person sees themselves differently and experiences the environment differently. Failure to deal with this difference consciously leads to polarisation, antisemitism, homophobia, racism, and xenophobia.
Cultural hotchpot
I was born in 1970 and spent my youth mostly in my parents’ greengrocery, which was located in a multicultural working-class neighbourhood in Utrecht, The Netherlands. People of every walk of life visited that shop: from the sexton from the church across the street to truck drivers and prostitutes. We had musical talent in the shop, as well as local heroes like football-player Willem van Hanegem and Comedian Herman Berkien. And all those people from many different cultures surrounding our shop.
I would regularly deliver groceries on foot in the neighboorhood and by car (mom driving) to people in trailer parks. I was a frequent visitor to kitchens of people originating from Rumania, Hungary, Spain, Turkey, Greece, Suriname and Indonesië (former Dutch Indies). As young kid I walked into those houses with bags and boxes full of peppers, garlic, and all kinds of unusual fruit, and there I discovered the most delicious smells. And I was always allowed to taste. In dealing with people from diverse cultural and social backgrounds as a young person, I really learned a lot.
Magical playground
Several times a week, my parents drove to the vegetable auction, and to growers and harbours to buy fruit and vegetables. There too, we encountered people of all backgrounds and walks of life: porters, laborers, traders, wholesalers, growers, sellers, farmers and so on.
Especially at the auction, it was a cacophony of noise. The clatter of carts, machines, boats, and crates filled the large halls. And the auctioneers and porters trying to rise above it all without amplification (often using strong language). And everyone had a nickname. Most of those names would not be allowed today, believe me.
Sometimes I ran small errands, other times I just sat on a huge stack of wooden crates looking down at the organised chaos on the floor below. There was auctioning and bidding in the corners (and a huge auction upstairs), with rows of carts full of produce waiting to be sold. On a short end you found the big trucks and boats of the sellers. The smaller vans of the buyers were on one of the long sides. And thousands of guys in blue overcoats moved the produce in carts from place to place. Ad hoc there was dealing and hustling between buyers who had bought to much, or traders that needed to get rid of over-production. Or people trying to sell stuff outside of “the system”. Here and there I saw people drinking coffee from a thermos (or booze from small bottles) or eating a quick lunch.
Enjoying the chaos from above was great, but the 8 year old me found running errands pure magic. Yet it could be quite intimidating. It was like one of those old computergames where you are running against a clock, while trying to avoid all kinds of moving obstacles. Carts coming from every direction, with people yelling and cursing. And when you survived the mess and reached the row of traders, you had to find the guy you needed. You had never seen him and all you knew about him was from the assignment: “Roy, pick up my strawberries from Blue Joe over there.” Most people were wearing a blue coat, but which one was Joe? In the end I learned that it was not about the coat, but about the blue nose Joe had from all the alcohol he consumed. And I was “the little kid from the red one” (“de kleine van de rooie” like we say in Holland), as my dad had a big head of red hair.
Two full days to Salzburg
I didn’t become a shopkeeper myself, but as an entrepreneur I had a number of startups. For a few years, I ran a security service with men and dogs. I spent four years selling fish at the market, sold (cooking)oil and had a software company that built complex online platforms. I also built a telecom company that handled payment transactions in the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany.
The companies had activities in various countries meaning I traveled a lot. I spent much time in Russia, Belarus, Israel and Germany. Sometimes I had the feeling that I was living in an airplane, it really was that hectic. My mental outlet was my pen and camera. I wrote newsletters and brochures for my companies, short (travel) stories for fun, and under pseudonyms I worked for politics, media, and photo agencies. The ratrace was sustainable as my wife Ksenia was as driven as I, or maybe even worse.
We moved in together almost right after we met. And got married soon thereafter (fixing papers and stuff, as she is a migrant), but kept full focus on the companies. We experienced all ups and downs together, but had a different role. My activities as CEO were always very visible, where she was backstage programming, optimising databases and running technical projects/teams. When she accompanied me on formal events, she was often addressed as “the wife of”. After over three years of continuous work, we took our first vacation: it was December 2002 and we went two full days to Salzburg.
Heart and soul over head
Ksenia was pregnant and not by accident. It was 2010. We approached it like any other project and had prepared and researched everything. She literally worked ’till her membranes broke, trying to make every last deadline. In September she delivered a healthy baby-girl.
For me that process of giving birth was a life-changing moment, although Ksenia did all the work. I was there just for support. But that human being that I held in my hand, made me realise how single-sided the corporate ratrace actually was. It was a complete reset of values. The business was no longer top of mind.
I wanted out. But how?
It took me to the winter of 2014. Then I said goodbye to the hectic life, and chose heart and soul over head.
The husband …
Now I’m a photographer, playwright and producer of theatershows. And I occasionally give guest lectures on entrepreneurship, startups or teambuilding.
And Ksenia? We are still together!
She discovered acting while playing with our daughter and took up acting-lessons. Drive and dedication can bring any human being far. Sometimes she plays ensembles, but mostly makes soloshows which she performs over 40 times per year. As she frequently is on TV and Radio she is making quite a name for herself. These days, when we are greeted at a theater where she will be peforming, I’m most of the times welcomed as “you must be the husband of“.