FundamentallySound Blog

Not a lot to report other than that my body is here in California but my spirit is still across the Atlantic.

A few observations:
–Heathrow is seemingly incapable of reaching its full potential for absurd horridness. Every time I have the awful luck of passing through its grime covered walls I am astounded by its sickly combination of gawdy advertising, stupid layout, and employees with nasty attitudes. Got to make sure I don't ever go through this airport again.
–California sunshine *is* therapeutic and invigorating.
–San Francisco has the potential to become a creative playground like Berlin. Maybe if the American economy collapses and rents go down, this would happen. I've got my fingers crossed.
–California feels very close to Asia and Germany feels very close Turkey.
–I'm excited about planning a tour for Kunsole in Germany next year! We'd fit in quite well over there.
–I am interested in the idea of rootedness these days, nomadicism is great fun and has been a way of life for me for a while, but to have a space of my own and a connection with the local culture is even more exciting right now. And a sweet man waiting for me makes it even better.
–After all, South American Boyfriends are the new Japanese Girlfriends, according to an anonymous comment on Click Opera (scroll down on link).

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Last night I had the pleasure of hanging out with Adam Goldmann. He was telling me of a metaphor he had picked up for Beriln, how the city acts as a palimpsest. When he brought it up, I could only remember the word from the title of a Gore Vidal novel, but couldn't remember exactly what it meant. Thanks Google, because of you, I don't even need a memory. Palimpsest: a piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing but of which traces remain. Which is exactly what Berlin is, a living city constantly rubbing out little bits of its historical scars, but never fully erasing them, trying to forget but afraid to at the same time. And within that process an incomparable ecological system of culture and art is currently thriving. I can only imagine that it is similar to what downtown New York must have been in the 70's. But without the crime and grit and with an urban infrastructure that seems to work nearly flawlessly. Now if only San Francisco would join the EU so that I might live here without all the visa hassle!

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I came to Berlin to absorb, not produce. In the past I've always tried to do shows, make connections, etc. This time is a bit different, I just want to learn and be dazzled.

I spent four days in Kassel with Nora, Juan, and Radim. My time there was spent drinking a lot of German beer and feeling a bit underwhelmed by the art at Documenta. But I was totally stimulated by the curation and presentation. Late in the afternoon of the second day, while taking in a Diaz and Riedweg piece, I think the whole thing made sense. All that about modernity as our antiquity and so on, it all clicked. I could see the intelligence of the bare-bones presentation, the pieces culled from over 400 years of art history, all working to deflate the self-importance of art itself. It was very "anti" and smartly so. But are things really this broken?

Back in Berlin, Big City Orchestra (California) and Rinus van Alabeek (NL) were great fun at Zentrale Randlage, a venue I played at a couple of years ago, which is sadly closing at the end of the month. And Roses Bar, with its fluffy pink walls, too many disco balls, and high-absurdist-kitsch is my favorite bar in the world. The fact that it dares combine fluffy gay-ness with tough kreuzberg neighborhood attitude is enough to make me swoon.

Phoebe Washburn has a great show up at Deutsche Guggenheim. I want to decorate our apartment in the style of all those light woods, yellows, greens, and reds.

I went to a performance of OM-2 with Momus and Hisae, really great to see him and meet Hisae. The performance was too darkly nihilistic but the great ramen afterwards made up for it. I learned of Momus as a writer before I ever heard his music, his essays on Japan were a big influence on my understanding of Japan while I was living there. I met him for the first time in 2003, I think. I still admire his writing and Hang Low from his most recent CD is an excellent song. So hanging out with him in person is always a joy.

Last night found me at Tesla, a venue for electronic arts that, too, is sadly closing. Nathan, Laura, and I took in performances by the ensemble Die Maulwerker. The music was highly cerebral and strangely de-sexualized. While listening I forgot I even had a body. It gave my brain a charge but left everything below my neck cold. I used to be very interested in this neuter type of music when I was closeted and before my first boyfriend.

Tonight I'm off to the LA-Berlin festival at Ballhaus Naunyn, looking forward to hearing Scott Arford's new work. Yes, Berlin is everything I always imagine it to be.

(this was written on my iphone, apologies if grammar and spelling have suffered, or if you have because of it).

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J.

As the plane touched down at Tegel, Michiko glanced at her watch. A feeling of alienation ran across her, flying still made her question life's givens. If we could take off in the air so fast, cross continents while sleeping, then what could be taken as truly axiomatic. Michiko, not being one to get caught in that neurotic web of what-ifs, set her mind to the task at hand, getting her luggage. Then, always trying to stay one step ahead of the game, she started working out the details necessary to get the Cartiér system back to Tokyo from Berlin. U-bahn to Hackesher Markt, S-bahn to Warschauerstrasse, then a walk to the closed down former East-Berlin factories. It's been nearly 20 years since the wall came down, but those factories in the fields around Treptower Park look like a postcard "of the people" circa 1979.

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The call of Deitch lured Kunsole to Manhattan.

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Our two intrepid adventure seekers were all set for a day out in the magical sunny land of California.

And adventure they found! John Bankston introduced them to the one-eyed explorer setting out on his craft with his band of merry men, carefully crossing the river. Watch out for the man in the tree!

The gooey sea people were uninterested in causing problems, and more interested in their promenade across the water, admiring each others' uniforms and physiques.

The one-eyed explorer sails through their midst offering only a wink and encouragement for their pursuits!

Two Walter van Beirendonck look-alikes are practicing their sex-clown routine.

That ugly green monster jealousy rears its head briefly, but is quickly forgotten.

Night falls in the forest and the men in trees eye one another from across the water, serenaded by the the peaceful sounds of wild animals frolicking.

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...join us.

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Summer finally happened here in San Francisco. For six days. Apparently it is gone now, opening the blinds reveals a wall of warmish mist. I have never been one to pay a lot of attention to the weather until living in Holland where weather was primal like a direct link to big forces in nature. In San Francisco the weather is dainty and fickle, never quite staying the same but also never being loud or pushy. We had our glimpse of summer, now we're back to fog and, well, fog.

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1. San Francisco is seen as a wacky and fun place to the rest of the world.
2. San Francisco is indeed a wacky and fun place.
3. Wacky and fun is great but it is very limiting to only be concerned with that.
4. How to maintain wacky and fun while still looking at things critically?

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Not everyone is cut out for it but those who are can hear the call loud and clear: long sunny days spent walking around urban landscapes observing the wildlife while contemplating radical thought and their latest project, reasonable pay with no need for customer service or decision-making, tuning into a city's rhythms, it's all part of being a postal delivery person. I know quite a few people who have had this fantasy, myself being one of them. It seems more desirable all the time.

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