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An evening in Berlin
Jan. 28th, 2007 01:27 pm5pm: To Jannowitzbrucke to see what's on in the row of cave-like art galleries that hide under the S-bahn, bordering the Spree. There's a noticeable South American flavour; videos by Marcellvs L. of poor people walking along the side of threatening highways, seen in extreme telephoto. And a few doors down Javier Téllez has red flags, banners and videos from a Mexican popular uprising. "Long live Mexico! Long live the Socio-Political-Cultural Movement of our country! Independence--Peace--Freedom! Peasants let's join our efforts!" say the banners.
6pm: To the Café Moskau. It's Berlin Fashion Week and Ideal-Showroom is hosting an event. People who design clothes are showing them to potential buyers, and there's art too, tucked away in the back rooms. We finger clothes designed by Makin Jan Ma (of Jan Family) with admiration. There are other interesting things, sort of padded hooded tops with scribble patterns, acid yellow lines, slashed kimono sleeves, and pleasantly unnecessary folds, gatherings, rouches... I give a video interview to the roving camera crew. "What, to you, is the one indispensable thing?" the blonde interviewer asks. "My passport," I decide. "Brecht said a human being was more easily made than a passport. It's certainly more fun making a human being, though."
7.30pm: To the badeschiff, where Hisae and I sauna and bathe naked, flipping through the free fashion magazines we've picked up at Ideal. Luckily the bademeister who usually throws me out of the pool isn't there, so I do my usual inept swimming -- and don't drown, this time. Nobody interviews us here.
9pm: Thoroughly refreshed from our bathing (although Hisae feels a bit ill after swimming so soon after eating), we head to nearby gallery Peres Projects for the opening of Folkert De Jong's show "The False Prophet". This Dutch artist has made lurid resin sculptures of famous characters from the history of painting -- Otto Dix's lesbian journalist Sylvia von Harden, for instance. We team up with our friend Sunshine Wong, and meet some Japanese girls, one of whom approaches me with the line "My boyfriend loves your blog!" (It used to be "I love your music!"). Meanwhile the Peres photographer is snapping away. These Peres openings are without a doubt the best in Berlin. There's a real buzz here. The air hangs thick with smoke, and people jabber away in Dutch, German and English, quaffing free beer (while supplies last).
10pm: An hour in the Barbie Deinhoff bar across the road. It's very pink in there, with comfy sofas.
11pm: To a Vice magazine party in Mitte. The place is heaving with people puffing on cigarettes and wearing American Apparel tops as if they're some kind of uniform. I meet my friend Mario, who's making the official video of the evening on a tiny camera, and films us. Then I get interviewed by a Norwegian journalist for some new style magazine. "Are you here to see or be seen?" she asks. I can't think of anything clever to say. "A bit of both, I think." It's hard work having to be interviewed everywhere you go, and come up with a memorable soundbite at 2am. Can't a man just relax and party in this town?
6pm: To the Café Moskau. It's Berlin Fashion Week and Ideal-Showroom is hosting an event. People who design clothes are showing them to potential buyers, and there's art too, tucked away in the back rooms. We finger clothes designed by Makin Jan Ma (of Jan Family) with admiration. There are other interesting things, sort of padded hooded tops with scribble patterns, acid yellow lines, slashed kimono sleeves, and pleasantly unnecessary folds, gatherings, rouches... I give a video interview to the roving camera crew. "What, to you, is the one indispensable thing?" the blonde interviewer asks. "My passport," I decide. "Brecht said a human being was more easily made than a passport. It's certainly more fun making a human being, though."
7.30pm: To the badeschiff, where Hisae and I sauna and bathe naked, flipping through the free fashion magazines we've picked up at Ideal. Luckily the bademeister who usually throws me out of the pool isn't there, so I do my usual inept swimming -- and don't drown, this time. Nobody interviews us here.
9pm: Thoroughly refreshed from our bathing (although Hisae feels a bit ill after swimming so soon after eating), we head to nearby gallery Peres Projects for the opening of Folkert De Jong's show "The False Prophet". This Dutch artist has made lurid resin sculptures of famous characters from the history of painting -- Otto Dix's lesbian journalist Sylvia von Harden, for instance. We team up with our friend Sunshine Wong, and meet some Japanese girls, one of whom approaches me with the line "My boyfriend loves your blog!" (It used to be "I love your music!"). Meanwhile the Peres photographer is snapping away. These Peres openings are without a doubt the best in Berlin. There's a real buzz here. The air hangs thick with smoke, and people jabber away in Dutch, German and English, quaffing free beer (while supplies last).
10pm: An hour in the Barbie Deinhoff bar across the road. It's very pink in there, with comfy sofas.
11pm: To a Vice magazine party in Mitte. The place is heaving with people puffing on cigarettes and wearing American Apparel tops as if they're some kind of uniform. I meet my friend Mario, who's making the official video of the evening on a tiny camera, and films us. Then I get interviewed by a Norwegian journalist for some new style magazine. "Are you here to see or be seen?" she asks. I can't think of anything clever to say. "A bit of both, I think." It's hard work having to be interviewed everywhere you go, and come up with a memorable soundbite at 2am. Can't a man just relax and party in this town?