Erik de Groot, he is both the juvenile absorption and the renaissance lost. He is the lone boy with the spindling toy, the wrapped-up package left under the Christmas tree. He is the anonymous attraction, singing songs into a broken microphone, he screams into a forest filled valley and only the rustled return of an echo leaves him a reply. Henk carefully reminds one that friends should be chosen, in a mutually beneficial exchange between calibrated-irony and spiritual cohesion; combined with an air of solitude he coats a thick padded protective layer of saintly devotion to all that is pure or has been. He is both the puppet and the puppeteer, he has choreographed, tap-danced and pulled so many strings that he walks, knees wobbling, as if held up by a higher power. Henk has found resolve; his spirit, he left behind in the eastern hemisphere where he will one day return, to do what makes his heart sing.
Erik has found creative expression through writing and singing, his artist name is the New 2k Human and he has a way with words.