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imomusThursday night threw me through a fairly typical Berlin sequence. Hisae and I joined Sunshine and her friend Ollie at an opening in a building where Ollie has a studio. We asked to see his workspace, but Ollie demurred, explaining that there was an embarrassing lack of work on display. Actually, I really just wanted to see the space, up on the fourth floor and overlooking the Spree. I like seeing workspaces. Not knowing Ollie very well, I suppose I thought the space would tell me more about where he was coming from.
Next we went to Tesla where an American media artist called Jeff Mann was holding court at an open studio event. There were circuit boards everywhere, and videos playing on flatscreen monitors. Jeff was deep in conversation with some visitors, which was lucky -- unless I really love an artist's work (and I'm not familiar with Jeff's) I have the classic shy person's fear of open studios. How do you edge away from the inevitable conversation about the artist's "process"? The more interesting the work or the process is, of course, the more difficult it becomes to escape. Meanwhile your stomach's rumbling, or you have to go to the toilet, or you have another appointment (in our case it was a combination of rumbling stomachs and a pressing appointment with noise rock duo Blue Sabbath Black Fiji at Zentrale Randlage).
Above you can see my workspace. It isn't much to look at, and it's not separate from my living space. There are art magazines, and Japanese art magazines, and old art magazines from the 1960s (that's Studio International from January 1969 up in the top right). There's an iMac, an acoustic guitar, some CDs and DVDs, a few books (mostly about visual culture) and a TV which plays ambient stuff. I sit there with my girlfriend nearby. I drink tea.
I sometimes think vaguely about renting commercial space in Berlin to work in -- a place to record a new album, for instance. That's something you can do fairly easily here. As art critic Daniel Richter says in this conversation with Jonathan Meese and Tal R, "Berlin is empty. It's a very empty town. Still, it's not rich, it's not a bourgeois town, there is so much space you can rent. It's the first thing you need. You need some food and a place to work. You can't get that in Paris or Copenhagen or Hamburg, because these are expensive bourgeois towns".
Food and a place to work! Nothing bourgeois, nothing to own. Berlin is full of rather stark, functional and funky "spaces" used by artists to make their work. That's basically the look of Berlin, and what people talk about. "I have a nice space, very cheap..." In Britain, by contrast, conversation would tend to be about house prices, I think. I don't know, I haven't lived there for a while. But I was very startled, looking at the Guardian's interesting yet horrifying Writers' Rooms feature, by just how unglamorous most writers' rooms are. And how unfunky and bourgeois.
Only Will Self's space is remotely Berlin-like -- stark, funky and functional. I'm interested in the way he sticks Post It notes bearing plot ideas over a map of the Isle of Grain, mapping the structure of a sequence of narrative ideas to the outline of an existing place he knows well (this is a bit like a mneumonic -- I often remember sequences of ideas by stages on the walks on which I had them). Something about David Hare's space also appeals to me -- some distant reminder of photos of the various places Brecht worked during his international flight from the Nazis, perhaps. Some whiff of a committed "theatrical humanism" -- a 1960s radicalism doomed and dying in British theatre, and therefore to be cherished.
All the other writers in the Writers' Rooms series have pretty geriatric spaces which just reconfirm my innate prejudice against Anglo literary culture. These studies all look like unused bedrooms in dingy (yet overpriced) semi-suburban houses -- you know, the rooms parents take over for belated creative work when their offspring drift off to uni. The "home office" vibe is intensified by ugly orthopedic chairs, nasty cheap PCs (although several writers swear by ancient typewriters, claiming to hate computers), ugly telephones, meanly-proportioned windows and cluttered Victoriana (although JG Ballard updates this to the 1930s courtesy of a bad Surrealist painting). There are framed certificates on the walls, or NYRB caricatures of the writer (hello David Lodge!). There are velour tablecloths, Art Deco lamps and silly gifts. It's all very 20th century.
I suppose some of the blame for the impression of fustiness rather than funkiness communicated by these photos has to be laid at the feet of the Guardian editors, who chose a bunch of elderly and rather bourgeois writers to document. I'd like to see Ali Smith's space, or Zadie Smith's, or Mark Haddon's. But I suspect it's also a function of the difference between the creators in book culture and the creators in the visual world. And, you know, call me superficial, but I'd rather see the space Blue Sabbath Black Fiji rehearse in. As long as I don't have to live next door. That shit is loud.
Next we went to Tesla where an American media artist called Jeff Mann was holding court at an open studio event. There were circuit boards everywhere, and videos playing on flatscreen monitors. Jeff was deep in conversation with some visitors, which was lucky -- unless I really love an artist's work (and I'm not familiar with Jeff's) I have the classic shy person's fear of open studios. How do you edge away from the inevitable conversation about the artist's "process"? The more interesting the work or the process is, of course, the more difficult it becomes to escape. Meanwhile your stomach's rumbling, or you have to go to the toilet, or you have another appointment (in our case it was a combination of rumbling stomachs and a pressing appointment with noise rock duo Blue Sabbath Black Fiji at Zentrale Randlage).
Above you can see my workspace. It isn't much to look at, and it's not separate from my living space. There are art magazines, and Japanese art magazines, and old art magazines from the 1960s (that's Studio International from January 1969 up in the top right). There's an iMac, an acoustic guitar, some CDs and DVDs, a few books (mostly about visual culture) and a TV which plays ambient stuff. I sit there with my girlfriend nearby. I drink tea.
I sometimes think vaguely about renting commercial space in Berlin to work in -- a place to record a new album, for instance. That's something you can do fairly easily here. As art critic Daniel Richter says in this conversation with Jonathan Meese and Tal R, "Berlin is empty. It's a very empty town. Still, it's not rich, it's not a bourgeois town, there is so much space you can rent. It's the first thing you need. You need some food and a place to work. You can't get that in Paris or Copenhagen or Hamburg, because these are expensive bourgeois towns".
Food and a place to work! Nothing bourgeois, nothing to own. Berlin is full of rather stark, functional and funky "spaces" used by artists to make their work. That's basically the look of Berlin, and what people talk about. "I have a nice space, very cheap..." In Britain, by contrast, conversation would tend to be about house prices, I think. I don't know, I haven't lived there for a while. But I was very startled, looking at the Guardian's interesting yet horrifying Writers' Rooms feature, by just how unglamorous most writers' rooms are. And how unfunky and bourgeois.
Only Will Self's space is remotely Berlin-like -- stark, funky and functional. I'm interested in the way he sticks Post It notes bearing plot ideas over a map of the Isle of Grain, mapping the structure of a sequence of narrative ideas to the outline of an existing place he knows well (this is a bit like a mneumonic -- I often remember sequences of ideas by stages on the walks on which I had them). Something about David Hare's space also appeals to me -- some distant reminder of photos of the various places Brecht worked during his international flight from the Nazis, perhaps. Some whiff of a committed "theatrical humanism" -- a 1960s radicalism doomed and dying in British theatre, and therefore to be cherished.
All the other writers in the Writers' Rooms series have pretty geriatric spaces which just reconfirm my innate prejudice against Anglo literary culture. These studies all look like unused bedrooms in dingy (yet overpriced) semi-suburban houses -- you know, the rooms parents take over for belated creative work when their offspring drift off to uni. The "home office" vibe is intensified by ugly orthopedic chairs, nasty cheap PCs (although several writers swear by ancient typewriters, claiming to hate computers), ugly telephones, meanly-proportioned windows and cluttered Victoriana (although JG Ballard updates this to the 1930s courtesy of a bad Surrealist painting). There are framed certificates on the walls, or NYRB caricatures of the writer (hello David Lodge!). There are velour tablecloths, Art Deco lamps and silly gifts. It's all very 20th century.
I suppose some of the blame for the impression of fustiness rather than funkiness communicated by these photos has to be laid at the feet of the Guardian editors, who chose a bunch of elderly and rather bourgeois writers to document. I'd like to see Ali Smith's space, or Zadie Smith's, or Mark Haddon's. But I suspect it's also a function of the difference between the creators in book culture and the creators in the visual world. And, you know, call me superficial, but I'd rather see the space Blue Sabbath Black Fiji rehearse in. As long as I don't have to live next door. That shit is loud.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:27 pm (UTC)The rest of them look like Professor´s offices, ugh! I keep expecting them to ask me about my essays.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-13 11:56 pm (UTC)I know where everything is. Nobody else has to.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 12:02 am (UTC)and Work: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jackospades/392080738/in/set-72157594454006544/
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 12:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 12:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 12:43 am (UTC)I love visiting the 'fusty' homes of elderly people for the same reasons you like how they dress. Young people's spaces can be an incredible bore--they're far too new, far too fashionable (the 'right' colors, the 'right' furniture, the 'right' books and music, blah blah blah). They rarely express the peculiarities of the occupant, at least not to the degree that the homes of elderly people often can; they haven't been around long enough to amass those eclectic little quirks.
I like the cozy warmth and texture of Beryl Bainbridge's room, (http://books.guardian.co.uk/graphic/0,,1989206,00.html) with the bric-abrac accumulated over a lifetime. Old vs. new isn't the point--it's about overall visual interest puctuated with curious items (eg: The typewriter that takes extra care to use because no one repair it, and its slower speed forces the writer to be more cicumspect).
Wouldn't mind a place like an elderly queen's Manhattan apartment, like John Richardson's home, with its reefs of books piled on the bed, a dried whale's penis in the corner given by Warhol, and the countless priceless art historical treasures given to him as keepsakes.
Gabrielle D'Anunzio's place (http://aubreyweirdsley.livejournal.com/12096.html) would be your worst nightmare, to be sure. Likewise the home of the late Mr. Cheesman. (http://aubreyweirdsley.livejournal.com/36967.html#cutid1)
I think I would have much preferred Frank Hughes' place, myself. There's a lively wink in the decor.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 01:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 01:26 am (UTC)environment mapping
Date: 2007-04-14 01:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 02:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 02:50 am (UTC)I suppose it's not very funky (other than the fact that everything is at least 40 years old) -- and maybe even Germanic, or at least the way I imagine some German artists worked 40 years ago.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 02:56 am (UTC)But I'm a special case: A freelance journalist who volunteers at a hostel in exchange for a bed. So I don't actually *have* anything resembling a space of my own, and I'd rather my to-do list wasn't continually scrutinized by the up to five other people I share a dorm room with.
Likewise, my workspace generally depends on what coffeeshop I'm in the mood for -- the one full of bookshelves where no-one talks, the one full of my friends, the unostentatious one near the hostel, or the one where the bathroom is made to look like it's underwater, the servers sometimes wear gorilla costumes, and tables have motors inside them and slowly rotate clockwise, forever moving your drink and belongings towards the person on your left.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 03:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 03:59 am (UTC)I think the places I linked are great fun (I could list quite a few), but I couldn't live in one--way too heavy and dingy, and it's too straightforard in its emulation of previous styles. I prefer something lighter, more rustic and pop with a wonder cabinet vibe: 'baroque terrarium modern', you might call it.
But then, some of my friends are hothouse flowers--forcing squeaky ole Mies on them would simply be too cruel.
Happy Songkran
Date: 2007-04-14 04:12 am (UTC)In Thailand, the ‘Land of Smiles’, you can dine well and still leave the table with change from $5. A full check up in a modern hospital costs under $40. Gorgeous homes rent for less than $400 a month (sometimes a lot less). And yes, it really is possible to purchase a studio condo in a seaside town for under $20,000.
What are you waiting for?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 04:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 04:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-14 04:54 am (UTC)I went hunting for images of some of the studios of my favorite creators, but came up almost empty-handed. I'd love to see and show Hundertwasser's studio, or Rockwell Kent's or Turrell's. All I could come up with were rather poor shots of one corner of Cornell's basement workshop, and Gorey's study.
Re: Happy Songkran
Date: 2007-04-14 04:56 am (UTC)