Count me in!

(Where Rembrandt first saw the light)

When it comes to all-things AI, I’m loudly-and-proudly on the “What could possibly go wrong…” side of the fence.

But as a travel PR who is instinctively geared-up to watching out for something new, different, or an answer to the travel writer’s favourite question - “Why now” - I think I might have seen the future. And believe me: if it’s all as good-looking as this, then I’m an instant convert.

This is Holland: the country with a capital so popular that it seldom needs to market itself, or proactively chase after media coverage, to make itself look appealing to tourists.

There’s not a great deal more you can say about it really. Not unless there’s a new way of reaching it, a new exhibition of its golden age of art, or a major new hotel or attraction.

So…The Eurostar service to Rotterdam and Amsterdam is still relatively new.

And “Young Rembrandt” is now the new old master should you be looking for something as simple, and such great value, as a portrait of yourself…by the man himself.

It’s impossible to guess at just how many travel articles have been written in the past about Leiden, in Holland. As Rembrandt’s 1606 birthplace, it’s the starting point for anyone wanting to follow in his early footsteps.

It’s a bit of a shame the authorities decided to knock down the house in which he was born. (Oooops!). But today, there’s a plaque on a block of flats which marks that spot; a statue of a young boy looking at a painted portrait of Rembrandt; a relatively recently constructed windmill to replicate the one his father once owned; and - next to another statue of Rembrandt - a cantilever bridge over a picturesque canal (just in case you happened to forget which country you’re in).

But this is definitely the place where Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, a master of light, first saw the light.

Navigate a handful of narrow streets from there to 89 Langebrug, and you’ll find The Young Rembrandt Studio, housed within the very building he was first taught art by Jacob Isaacsz van Swanenburgh.

It’s been open for about four years now - so there’s nothing particularly new about that, or the very clever “3D” presentation you’re ushered-in to watch behand the curtain of a small side-room.

What is new, and why everyone should look again at Leiden now, is that - since April of this year - this is where visitors can go to have Rembrandt paint their portrait.

It’s costs just 2.50 Euros to step through the door, back in time, and way, way into the future.

“Hallo - et welkom op The Young Rembrandt Studio,” says our host, with a knowing smile, adding that for just 10 Euros more, we can go home with a full-blown portrait by the man himself.

Full disclosure…

…a couple of days earlier, I’d visited The Mauritshuis in The Hague and seen, not only Vermeer’s “girl with the pearl”, but also a couple of Frans Hals portraits which are just laugh-out-loud great, and Carel Fabritius’s The Goldfinch. But there, in a corner of one gallery, was a portrait of one of the most self-assured, gloriously confident and cocky counts I’ve ever seen. A bit like Rik Mayell’s Lord Flasheart - only with a Dutch standard swung nonchalantly over in his shoulder - there was Loef Vredericx, (https://bit.ly/46rIddD) painted by Thomas de Keyser, the most celebrated portraitist in Amsterdam at the time.

In that moment, I had actually wanted nothing more than to look like Loef.

So, 48 hours later, here was my chance.

My new bestie did the honours, asking me to take off my baseball cap and glasses, leaving me looking like some dishevelled tourist off the street, and pointing a small camera at my face.

And that’s the moment young Rembrandt worked his magic…with a little help from his AI friend.

A few seconds later I had six portraits in front of me, including a brand new persona - Count Jan de Waag - which, frankly, left me breathless (mostly through laughter) at just how flattering this new combo had been in producing someone who looked 40 (possibly even more) years younger, (slightly) more handsome than the real thing, and a whole lot more interesting (and wealthy) than I have even been in my entire life. Goodness: I even had hair.

“Do you want to edit it at all?” the artist’s apprentice asked me.

“No way!”

“But you need to check - sometimes this gives you seven fingers or three hands”.

“I really don’t care. Anyway, how do you know I don’t already have six fingers? Oh, and while you’re at it, print that other one of me off, as well, please.”

After such a build-up I only hope the portrait doesn’t disappoint.

And believe me, I don’t think it’ll be long before every visitor attraction in the world has a set-up like this.

If this is the future of AI, count me in!