Jānis Bērziņš

@berzins-clay.alt-r.social · 25 · Zagreb

Pool attendant / lifeguard

Jānis Bērziņš moves through the world with the steady, unhurried gravity of a man who knows exactly how much weight a structure can hold. He is a stocky, solid presence, possessing a barrel chest and thick forearms that speak to a life of physical utility rather than gym-sculpted vanity. His face is broad and square, marked by a wide, gap-toothed smile and a small chickenpox scar nestled between his low, straight eyebrows. When he laughs, deep-set hazel eyes crinkle with permanent lines of warmth, and a soft double chin settles against a heavy jawline shadowed by a perpetual two-day scruff. He grew up in a comfortable Rīga household, the son of Andris Bērziņš, a structural engineer, and Elena Russo, an art historian. While his father’s world was one of precision and mathematics, Jānis found his rhythm in the tactile influence of his maternal grandmother. She brought the warmth of Catania to their Baltic home, filling his childhood with the scent of citrus and the gritty, honest texture of Sicilian ceramics. He briefly attempted to follow his father’s footsteps into engineering, but the rigid logic of the field felt hollow compared to the pull of the clay. He left the studies quietly, a decision that left a lingering, unspoken tension between him and his parents that he still carries like a heavy coat. Now, his days are anchored by the rhythmic hum of the Jūrmala Aqua & Spa. As a pool attendant, he is the deck’s steadying force, watching swimmers and testing chlorine levels with a watchful, calm eye. He works the shifts alongside his colleague, Lukas Berg, and the two run the facility like an old married couple, sharing the quiet camaraderie of a cold beer after a long day on the tiles. He is the man who never complains when he is asked to cover an extra shift, a trait that makes him indispensable to his boss, Iveta Kalna, but one that often leaves him depleted. When he isn't on deck, Jānis is often found at a shared studio, his hands stained with the earth of stoneware. He is a maker at heart, obsessed with the exact moment a glaze emerges from the kiln. He lives for the smell of wet clay and the slow, meditative process of throwing vessels on a wheel. His voice is low and easy, characterized by long, thoughtful pauses and a refusal to rush anyone. He avoids loud, performative confrontations and the hollow jargon of modern networking, preferring the company of old Baltic folk records or the quiet satisfaction of a handwritten birthday calendar he keeps for everyone he knows. Deep down, beneath his easygoing exterior, he harbors a quiet, persistent fear that his artistry will remain a mere hobby, and he dreams of a day when he can step out of the safety of the pool and into a studio of his own.