the annoying kind of art

I seriously think that photography is the most annoying kind of art. Not only do you destroy every valuable moment by pressing your camera knob rather than being present in it + spoiling the moment for others as well, also your reality is filtered through plastic and glass. There are a lot of other art forms too, where the result is influenced by chance and external variables. In photography a lot of it is not even influenced by you rather then controlled. My relationship with photography is a very love-hate one. Thanks to Andreas Mühe and Yann Stofer for restoring my love for it and convincing me that not everyone taking pictures is an incredible asshole getting on my nerves during or in situations i would just love to dwell in.

Picture by Yann Stofer

good times

if you got nothing in life
but you´re having a good time
then that s more than enough
then that s pretty fine

done

emptyness is rather soothing, why would someone dislike it?
merry christmas

soaked

bit a hole into the roof
and realized I don´t like blue
now clouds fly by in soda skies
carpet pillow
wooden ceeling
borrowed purple
borrowed feeling
feel too much but not enoug, same old story
orange thoughts
litterbox
smell of piss and unwashed socks
first bit your tongue now i bite mine
you re wasting time,  time n time
lost all touch
skretched your skin
tension made it paperthin
I am the place
I am the place
just a place not a home
a concrete kingdome of my own
wear my crown through this dead end town
urban sadness, smalltown dust
misery made of sex and lust
villain and victim
victim and villain
not my fault
not your fault
not your fault
soaked in thought

Group S

People feel good in categories.
But you can keep your label:
Vegan
Feminist
Punk
Artist
Anarchist
Vegetarian
Goth
Nihilist
Man
Woman
Hippie
Antichrist

I´d rather keep my window open.
The only thing I wanna be is an individual, I´m not a notion, on a good day I´m just me.

Appreciation of evil

what good is a villain if he does no harm?
embrace the distruction and fall for his charm
...

The beautiful kind of boredom

And I miss the beautiful kind of boredom, that slowmotion sunday feeling from childhood days, when there was nothing to run after or think about. I really miss beeing bored.....

Tribute to Bulgakow

Moving to L.A. to make a living as a photographer, musician or painter is not a commitment to art. It´s the proof a strategic and structured commercialization of artistic approaches. Making a living on art requires investments from people who concider your work worth of their monetary attention. The term investment pretty much states it by defintion: it´s a transformation of monetary capital into goods of various nature. Then again goods are definied by a limited quantity, which adds to their value. Well, so someone is obviously interpreting you as production capital. This seems like a very weird interpretation of an artist.

While moving to a specific city or country for networking and synnergy purposes seems like a good argumentation, realilty usually demasks other motives. Ever since the 40s european artist have been moving to the US to make a living with their art (Eva Hesse, Marina Abramovic, Louise Bourgeoise..), just as have US artist who moved to various cities (Patty Smith, Robert Mapplethorpe..). This implies the transformation of a passion to a profession and by this work.

Concidering the approach of art for arts sake, that by definition makes an artist, this leads the whole case obsolete. What about people like Bulgakow who wrote their entire life without even the slightest chance of getting published? Not for money, not for fame or recognition or other ego-inflation, for pure intrinsic motivation of creating something of value for your own spirit. Persistence and stamina gain special attention in this scenario. The master and margarita is one of my favourite books ever, an emotional counterpart to Goethes Faust that also donated the famouse phrase for Ciorans poem „der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland“, based on Bulgakows Prof. Voland. I cant prove this but it´s way too matching to be incidental. Writing on it for 26 years he did not live to see it published. I hope one day you will be able to read it in the original russian version as there are just no words that include this amount of spirituality and emotion in western languages.

Tribute to Bulgakow, a true artist.

Well done fat rabbit...

.... guess now we can take another attempt to be friends. Power dynamics are a funny thing. I needed to get to the point where your appreciation did not matter any more, where things were fine the way they are. I´m greatful that you are always smarter than me though.  Whatever distance you may chose I´ll respect it. Thankful for that short lesson.

A fat lesson....

spinnin´around and around.. favourite record shops pt.3

Imagine making a cheesy independent french movie. You would have the soft yellowish light, dusty charming houses and green metal gates, girls in Doc Martens and flower dresses. Imagine the action would take place in a french record store. What would it look like? Of course you would find it dans un joli cul de sac avec déchets et poussière. Total Heaven records is hidden in one of this nice little streets quite close to Bordeauxs` university.
Who would run such a shop in the middle of southern France? Of course a bad ass charming frenchman wearing hawaiian shirts and showing his chesthair, wearing glasses and speaking some nice fantasy English with french accent. What a weird turnon!
This place can´t be named. It´s a mix of art/poster shop, record store and basement. The mix is an intimmidating proof of great taste. Indie, Sixties, Mowtown, D-d-dooooom, Dancehall, Dub, African Tunes... these people made a polaroid of my brain and translated it into music. It´s structured rather perfectly and clear, no useless roaming around. You will also find beautiful zines and diy art and photo books that just match the vibe. Maybe you would also like to walk with a silkscreen print of a masturbating Osama Bin Laden... or what about a bike or canned tuna? Well, their mix is special but perfect. The store smells like summer and eternal vacation.
I walked home with some nice Codein Bootlegs, Dorothy Ashby, King Tubby tunes and some zines from 92, when I was 8 years old and did not even think southern France does exist.
Should get back there sometime soon.... Close to it there´s a nice fleamarket where countless people from Algeria or Marocco sell awesome african vinyl.

spinnin´ around and around... favourite record shops pt.2

Some might say that Amsterdam is the nicest place on earth. Well, to be honest the name "Old Amsterdam" is pretty matching. It´s charming in its old slow and modest way. For a capital city its pace is incredibly slow and the atmosphere calm and chilled. To be honest: after some time it s rather unexiting. Anyway it happens to be the home of one of my favourite record shops. Distortion records is located on the Westerstraat pretty close to one of Amsterdams countless canals. The store follows a very own messy conception and unusual untidy design, a mystery to everyone besides the charming owner and shopcrew. The genre classification is rather individual and changes every once in a while. You might find your favourite record either in one of the unpacked boxes, or thrown down carelessly on the ground. Either way: they have EVERYTHING! the challange is just to find it. How they keep track of whats  where will always remain a riddle to me but I figured out that asking helps a lot and they will immediately get you what you are looking for + provide great new artists that also might float your boat. I just love browsing around there and catch some Vinyl from Kranky Records, Sahel Sound or a nice  Slint bootleg. Bring time and a clear mindset otherwise it migth just throw you off track and confuse you. 
Guess you just gotta love it.... I visit them on a daily base as they are a ten minute walk from my home on the Elisabeth Wolffstraat. The walk there is quite meditative and always a good approach to dampen my daily hate. You probaly won t leave empty handed. 

spinnin´ around and around... favourite record shops

Wherever you may roam a record shop is alwys a good spot to catch a feeling of home and comfort. As they are usually an extension of their owners, they vary in style, interior and genres sold.
Unlike most people I will always prefer a tiny shop with a good selection to Amoeba records (feeling lost and overwhelmed is not my prefered way of shopping records).
Luckily I happened to stumble over some of this shops, that would always offer a good time and great tunes.

Big Tiger Records (Bangkok)
What are you gonna do with a great taste in music and a very limited budget? Exactly: open up a two times three meter big record store in one of the worlds biggest cities. Located in the crazy JJ market in Bangkok Big Tiger Records offers a great selection of Molam, Funk and Worldmusic, that would provide samples for at least 50 years of Wu Tang and MF Doom tracks.
All Thai press so it s always a great suprise. Run by two boys from Bangkok and Hamburg the mix is just insane. They know what they are selling and will definetly keep cool stuff for themselves but  tell you whereelse to get it or play it countless times to make you jelouse. Jan loves to dj for hours ignoring your buying attempts. He wrote a book about traditional thai music. Free beers and fruit, great dancing, good people, portable record players from Japan. This little gem is only open on saturdays, so come early and bring some time to browse the countles boxes in this diy built cabin.

Skin is my second favourite surface

Skin is my second favourite surface. The favourite one is water....

Anyway: Thanks for spending the night.

It´s ok

I got a lot on my back but my shoulders won´t crack. I guess I can take a lot. 

Baby steps to truth

Tell all the truth but tell it slant

 

By Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind —

 

 

Half a fuck!

And I will cut my middle finger off, so I won´t give a fuck ever again.

Random vagina information Pt. 1

Due to its pH-level of 4,5 a healthy vagina is supposed to taste a kind of sour that is somewhere in between a grape and vinegar. So stick two fingers deep in one and give it a shot. Happy healthcare to you....

(art by Caroline Paquita Kern)

Superpowers

The greatest superpower ever is to make people feel good. So: make people feel good!
It never hurts to be polite.

by Super Future Kid (UK)

And what do you bring to the table?

If I would meet you in an empty place, with noone around, with nothing around..... who would you be?
If I would shave your head and take off that jeans jacket you love to wear frequently, pull off that shirt of your favourite band, ... who would you be?
If your skin was blank, with no ink and no scars telling stories, who would you be?
If I would meet you afar from that busy hometown you live in, despite your job, with no hierarchy, your economic success, your position in society, would I recognize you?
And who would you be without your possessions and connections?
What would you bring to the table in an empty space?
The horse you came in on?
Your thoughts? Your ideas? Your emotions and perspectives? Your abilities and talents?
Feathers?
Who would you be if you would have to stand for yourself?

I m so tired of masquerade.....

Mut vor Handwerk, auf ewig

„Wenn Sie eins wählen könnten, welches würden Sie nehmen, junge Frau?“ Fast prallt die Brille des kleinen Mannes vor meine Nase, während sein schütteres Haar vor meinen Pupillen schwebt. „Aber nur eines!“  Sein Aufzug aus olivgrüner Cordhose, weißem Hemd und braunen groben Schuhen wirkt etwas antiquiert, mit den brauen Hosenträgern jedoch durchaus charmant. Trotz seiner geschätzten 80 Jahre finde ich ihn süß. „Den Ringelnatz aus dem Erdgeschoss. Den Dachgarten der Irrsinnigen würde ich nehmen. Da brauch ich gar nicht zu überlegen.“ Als erstes Bild begrüßt es den Besucher in der Ausstellung. Es könnte auch von einem Grundschüler gefertigt sein, wären die Motive nicht so absurd. Erbrechende Alkoholiker an einer Tafel, Seiltänzerinnen mit blanken Po, Monster und Stelzenläufer, Menschen beim Sex, Menschen bei der Masturbation, ein Akkordeonspieler und der gesichtslose schwarze Mann. Die Runde ist illuster und wir sind eingeladen.

„Sie mögen wohl die Sonntagsmaler.“ Das trifft es nicht ganz. Nicht die Sonntagsmaler mag ich, sondern die inneren Dämonen und den Mut sie trotz mangelnden Handwerkes mit anderen zu teilen. Gerade in einer Zeit, in der jeder viel zu bemüht eine digitale Idealversion seines Lebens bastelt, erscheint Ringelnatz Ehrlichkeit außerordentlich. Zu zeigen, was einen bewegt und antreibt, egal wie grotesk, erscheint mir mutig. Nicht, dass Ringelnatz nicht malen könnte. Kaum ein anderer schöpft die Instrumente von Farbe und Raum so ergreifend aus. Er entführt uns über die neblige See und in düsteres Dschungelgestrüpp und teilt seine Seeabenteuer in vortrefflichem Handwerk. Hier erlaubt sich sein Kind-Sein. Er schert sich nicht um Proportion und Mittel, nicht um Perspektive oder Sinn. Er ist all das und daran ist alles richtig. Er ist der stuhlwerfende Irre auf der Cabaretbühne. Er ist der einsame Seemann am steinigen Ufer. Er ist aber auch der ausgestoßene Missverstandene, der Trinker, der Einsame.

„Ja malen können die, diese Kunststudenten. Das Handwerk an Kunsthochschulen für teuer Geld erschlichen. Das täuscht über den Geist hinweg.“ Er scheint mich zu verstehen und nickt.

„Dämonen...... ja ja Dämonen. Den Dachgarten also. Sollten Sie einen Komplizen brauchen, ich stehe Ihnen zur Seite. Auf drei rennen wir.“ Eine versöhnliche Begegnung. Ich bin mir sicher wir sehen uns wieder.

halve the hippo

Well, I halved the hippo so I´m not scared of you anymore....

Truth and dare: speak your mind

Why is it so hard for us to speak our minds? At least in a sober condition....? A few drinks usually help to loosen the tongue. That´s probably why kids and drunk people are supposed to tell the truth. But why is it that we struggle so much with beeing honest, although we claim so much to do so? Why can´t we say straight ahead what we want and what we think? Is it not to protect others or not to hurt ourselves?

To me it happens on a daily base. While my mind thinks "I miss you and I want you all over me" what I actually say is usually "what´s up?". The situations are countless. Friends who don´t keep promises or dissappoint me I usually want to spit all my hurt feelings right in their face. But "it´s alright" ususally wins. Here are some examples with translations:

  - I like you = you re so hot I want to eat you alive / damn, you´re way smarter than me

  - I´m not in the mood today = I know I´m only your second best alternative and that´s not enough

  -  we´ll do it another time = you must really think I´m heellla stupid

  -  congratulations = you did not move one finger to deserve this, bitch, you just got lucky

  -  he´s nice = your boyfriend is so dumb

  - I really don´t know him = we fuck occasionally but that´s none of your business

  - I´m sorry I got so much work to do = I´d rather masturbate in the tub than waste my time on that bs

  - I´m really sorry = i really think you suck and I´m not sorry at all

    

Very rarely establishing an honest behavior becomes part of my reality. Towards really good friends I would admit that I can´t stand them this very moment, that it´s hard to like them because of their actions. Also sharing needs and wishes with people I appreciate takes place. "I would really like you to bite my neck", "could you pleace fuck me reckless", "I feel dissapponted and random when we are not in touch for weeks. please don t do that". VERY rarely.

To be honest you have to be brave enough to stand a nother persons reaction. And this might not be what you wish for or imagine. And that´s actually fine! As it´s not gonna kill you or them. It´s better and also easier to deal with something real, something visible than with thoughts inside peoples heads. It gives them opportunity to actually react, to recognize your perspektive and take care of your needs, maybe even fullfill your fantasy. You´ll figure out a way, does not matter if it´s good or bad. And when people ask me tomorrow what I did on new years´ eve I´ll tell them: I hate new years parties and spend the evening with comic books, codein and popcorn and it was great.

Happy new year everyone!