A Night to Remember

The artist reception and opening were both amazing. Hob-knobbing with artists from Berlin, Denmark, Italy, France, Belgium, Bavaria, Paris, Atlanta, New York, Los Angeles, London, and of course the sole other Canadian was quite the surreal experience.
Pablo had the reception at a former squat which is now a gallery /residence and I think a cool space. It was very Berlin. We had mojitos and bad wine served with pretzels and rice crackers. This was our official opportunity to network and meet all the other artists.
Now imagine in the middle of this Toby arrives to do his speech with a Muslim women from Libya who he met on a train. She then arrived three weeks later unannounced at his door and stayed the night. According to her religion Toby could not also stay, so had to leave his own house. In the end he happily transported her along with him for three days. What she thought of the squat and art work, I can’t imagine.
Toby did his speech with her at his side which was quite comical and thenalso did a photo shoot of many of us at the reception which was great fun.
We then all went to Pablo’s favourite bar the Kiwi Café for dinner and stayed up very late talking long into the night, with the big night still to come!
The big event featured two bands, one dancer, caterers walking around with trays of food and wine, and a performance art show. The performance artists are from Atlanta and in their seventies. They do human sculptures which are something like a cross between very good yoga and those Chinese acrobats that twirl plates. They recite quite interesting poetry while building the sculptures and eventually get completely naked to perform. Yes completely naked and do human sculptures at seventy. You couldn’t not be impressed as there were over two hundred people there watching in amazement as they unabashedly contorted their naked bodies in front of us as they talked of death and decay.
At this point the only other Canadian, a math teacher from Victoria came up to me with wide eyes and said – “Wow this is a happening – nothing like this would ever occur in Canada would it” And that was exactly the point.

The Really Big Show

For three days we played curatorial assistants to Pablo as he set up the 3rd Annual International Assemblage show to be ready for the opening on Sept 29th. There are over 300 art works by the sixty artists participating and over twenty five arriving in person to attend. It’s terribly exciting and as they say in the circus “a really big show”!
Dion’s main job is transporting things to the mouldy dungeon and working on the computer, I mostly assist with the unloading and moving of art work. I try hard not to break things. Mostly it goes well. There are some dramas about the placement of art and the sizes of certain pieces, a set of three that Pablo thought were about 2ft long, turn out to be over nine feet long each! (A metric misunderstanding as it turns out)
Huge parcels arrive daily in crates, badly wrapped packages arrive by courier, some artists transport their work themselves and drop it off. It’s wonderful to open all the surprise packages. Pablo says it is like a horrible Christmas, as you never know what you are going to get. His three interns keep very busy cataloguing both the show and packaging it arrived in, which Dion also gets to take down to the dungeon.
Four large parcels arrive from Canada in crates – and lo and behold the packager has used the Robertson screw driver to seal them. The Robertson screw driver is apparently unknown in European and American hardware circuits. Not thinking to bring this tool with us from Canada, we disappoint. In the end it takes all day to open the four crates using alternate technology.
In the midst of all this artists arrive from all over the world and need direct directions to restaurants, to look at their art, to talk, to flirt, to network and in one case shop! I was seconded as the only other north American female of shopping age to take the LA Times art critic shopping through out Berlin. I happily obliged
Slowly over the three days between shopping and computer work the show was hung.
It looked fantastic and filled the entire gallery and the three studios. The only major glitch was about twenty minutes before the opening Deiter somehow managed to erase the entire data base of catalogue materials, which of course contained all the labels! To say there was drama is to underscore the tension and words exchanged. We missed most of it as it was all in German. A last minute plan was devised to label everything with a number and print out a price sheet. After much running to the copier store, hand edited corrections and last minute identification of art work, there was something to give to the “collectors” at the opening. And what an opening it was.

The Fate of the Shrine

Over the past two days we have torn down the show, said our goodbyes to many friends and a bittersweet void has filled the atelier. Of the twenty two pieces the four of us created, 10 were sold for cash, 5 were traded for meals or lodging at the infamous New Zealand Café, one was donated to the Grunburger community house and four pieces are staying for the international exhibit later this week. This left us with two pieces to distribute to the streets of Berlin. One was a shrine created by Dion made of broken windshield glass, rocks and other unsuitable things for children to play with – the other piece was a very heavy mirror collage created by Lilla which was too heavy for the hostel wall.
We scouted the neighbourhood for places to do two street installations and found a lovely tree pole for the mirror – fortunately close by and we hung it with ease. The shrine was harder to find a home for as it needed a flat surface and many of the power boxes and postal boxes that line the streets have a curved roof, which is possibly to prevent such things as this from taking place. After some perseverance we found one box with a flat roof at eye level and with a little ceremony left it on top. It looked beautiful in the sunlight and we all retreated to the café across the street to watch passer-by’s response to the piece while we had an iced Kaffee in the beautiful September afternoon.
Leo loved the idea of our art becoming a part of the street and promised to come by once per day on his way to coffee and take photos and sent them to us in Canada. This seemed like a perfect end to our crime and a way to stay involved.
But fate or theft intervened. Last night on our way to a party we walked by the shrine to see how it looked at night and to our surprise and delight it was gone. It survived less than four hours on the Berlin streets. So much for Leo’s photo essay.
Dion was terribly disappointed, but in my heart I know it was adopted by someone who found it attractive, broken glass and all and that it has gone to a good home, hopefully someone’s garden. But we will never know and that is how it should be.

Art Crimes

My family has been and gone. My sister April arrived with Tristan last week and made quite the impact during their short stay here. April is everyone’s new best friend and has already been offered a job by Pablo to run his European empire. She also had Pablo biking and going to the gym with her at six am. Tristan managed to ..ahem…meet a German intern student. Enough said on that evening of his life. The big excitement was his arrest.
As previously mentioned a few of us had talked with Pablo about painting the exterior shutters to the gallery to eradicate them of bad street art and replace them with good street art. Tristan has done a few “tags” in skate parks etc, never anything illegal before, but was keen to assist in the project as part of his stay here in Berlin.
We purchased our supplies a few days earlier at one of the unbelievable specialty street avenger stores – where they sell spray paint in four foot cans, markers and other impulse items such as balaclavas. We thought it the perfect night, Lilla and Harveys last, Sven’s first and also election night and a full moon to boot. What could go wrong?
Declining the need for balaclavas or other disguises, we brazenly walked over to the gallery as Pablo had said if we got into any trouble, all we would have to do was simply say that he had given us permission. So we really embarked on the project as a condoned, risk free kind of street art, but still thought we should have look outs. Mom and Dad opted to be the lookouts and Tristan the first artist. At one am the streets were still quite crowded so things went slowly –being Canadian and all it was hard not to be naturally circumspect about technically illegal art applications. After about an hour the parents faded…being a lookout is hard work and after all it was now well after two am. No one had seemed to even notice us except for one guy who had raised a fist. Checking with Tristan if he was ok to finish without us we left, assuming we would complete our part of the project the next day. He was only four blocks from his hostel. Apparently right after we left is when the police car pulled up. We now figure the gesture of the raised fist was in fact the nieghbour who called them. We had thought it a symbol that we were cool – raised fists werent covered in our travel guide to Berlin.
Tristan tried the Pablo’s permission story, but the police wanted Pablos last name and address. Tristan sort of remembered where Pablo lived and then oddly the police chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and decided to walk with him to Pablos house to talk with him. Unbeknownst to Tristan Pablo isn’t his real name so once they were at his door buzzer – none on the names were even close, Tristan didn’t want to start randomly ringing buzzers at two am, so they nicely arrested him and took him to the station. He had to explain why as a Canadian he had done this art crime and fill out a form in German stating he would never do it again. Finally he was searched and then set free miles from his hostel at four thirty am with no idea where he was. Amazingly he found his way back by going into bars and cafes and asking for directions back to the neighborhood.
The current status of the art crime project is “a work in progress” but seeing as the police confiscated our thirty euros worth of four foot paint cans of that is how it will likely stay.
Pablo still think it looks better than it did before

Sixty Years On

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe was created by New York architect, Peter Eisenman and is Berlin's newest landmark. It opened July of this year and is already being called The Holocaust Memorial. I’ve been there twice and plan to go again as I find it intriguing and well concieved. The concept itself is simple: 2,711 stone slabs of varying heights and irregular tilts are arranged in a rectangular pattern right near the Brandenburg Gate. Between them runs a grid of narrow paths, and when you venture into the middle of this field of slabs, they swallow you up and soon tower over you. On a bright sunny day, as on my first visit, the slabs offer you shade and a dazzling display of dark shadows. In the rain on my second visit they offer shelter. The memorial is not overbearing, nor overstated, just quietly somber and yet children would likely be inclined to run or play hide and seek in it.
The memorial invites you to walk individually through its mazelike paths and you walk alone with your thoughts but you are also continually being surprised by another visitor suddenly appearing from the left or right. There is a lot of random bumping into people. But no matter how deep you venture amid the tallest of the slabs, every intersection has four clear straight ways out. Doing some research on the memorial I found out the following: that 2,711 is a prime number, and also apparently the number of pages in the Babylonian Talmud. Another theory is that 2711 squared is a little over seven million, representing the approximate number of Jews killed. The concrete slabs also seem to represent graveyards and some slabs already have small stones placed on their edges, which is apparently a sign of respect for the dead in Jewish cemeteries. The lack of rules for interaction i.e. no running etc. was apparently also intentional and is something that forces an individual response.
As I read on one Jewish web site, this memorial is not for the Jews, as they have their own but for Germany herself and her people, in their changing capital, to care for, grow with and remember.
Sixty years on there is still much to remember

Vernissage One

Here in Berlin they call art openings “Vernissage” a nice French sounding word pronounced “ver-nay-saj”. We have attended several since our arrival and have been invited to so many it’s been hard to keep track of them all. There was some mix up as to the official date of ours, we were originally told it was the 14th, then Pablo’s publicist had it as the 16th so we printed all our invitations and posters with that corrected date. Then the four women painters who are from Germany, Brussels and Stockholm who are doing the show in the front gallery, had apparently hired dancers and drummers for the 15th. So in the end to appease all parties we decided to do a vernasache on both dates, and the first one was last night.
There were about 60 – 70 people in attendance, mostly supporters and fans of the four women painters but we did have several people come to see our show as well. There were dancers and drummers, slide shows, cheap wine, strange snacks and gasp…..art sales!!!
Sandy the primary painter in the womens show sold seven paintings to one collector and we made five sales from our show. Now mind you ours are going for about 90% off, but it was still thrilling none the less and yours truly sold 3 pieces. Some of our art will now be going to live in Miami, Brussels and Berlin.
So I am happy to report that I have paid for at least one of my boots, let’s say the left one, the whole of the sexy skirt and all the second hand store purchases and still have change left over for a few 1 Euro veggie-donairs.
Life is good.

Das Hunds

I have to mention the dogs in Berlin as I am missing my own dear muttkins.
From our first sighting on the flight from Munich of a woman with a Dashund as carry on luggage, we have continued to see dogs in a large variety of new non North American ways. First of all “das hunds” here all seem to have never made the irrevocable one way trip to the vet to get “tutored” and proudly display their intact testicles. This may explain the sheer quantity of hunds we see. After awhile seeing dogs in bars, cafes, restaurants, malls, on trains, buses, streetcars, and on both the Ubahn and the Sbahn seems perfectly normal. My favourite sighting so far was a dog riding on the back of a bicycle.
I’m not quite sure how he was hanging on – but I was impressed with his skills
Dog owner culture varies form North America and very few dogs here have ever known the restraint of a leash, or had their “sheiss” picked up after them. They run free but seem to have developed a terrific traffic sense and wait patiently for lights and their owners to catch up.
Small dogs are the most popular dog and cross all age and gender groups as far as ownership, other than the punks who all have a cross between a shepard, pit bull, boxer or lab, and always seem to own several dogs. This is definitely not a culture of purebreds, and the funniest dog I saw had the body of a dashund and then large oversize boxer head. He looked quite impressed with what genetics had given him.
There are minor dog disputes under the odd restaurant table and the occasional use of the testicles in parks and of course the sidewalk goodies to avoid, but all in all das hunds of Fredrichshian are delightful to watch in their natural habitat. They know they rule.
I have not seen a single cat.

Das Fruit War

September 11th was not just the fourth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the USA but here in Berlin the date of the annual “fruit war” between the East (Friedrichshain) and the West (Kreuzberg) In the middle of a bridge not far from where the Berlin wall once stood there is apparently an annual condoned war fought with fruit, water balloons, paint and other things guaranteed to keep dry cleaners in business.
We heard about this event last night as a recommendation by Toby our Swiss House-mate as a place to take my Father who had just arrived in Berlin. Thinking it best to skip a riot with my seventy one yr old father we instead went out to a lovely Sunday brunch and then walked it off all day at the Zoogarten. A nice family outing right – My Father even offered to buy me a balloon and an ice cream.
We then headed back to Friedrichshain by U-Bahn- only to arrive right when the battleground was being set. While on the train across the bridge we saw the riot police and the crowds forming, then once at our station we saw thousands of people headed to the “war”. Many were armed in home made protective gear from garbage bags to elaborate paper shields – all were carrying various weaponry of fruit, some even with eggs, coffee ground, paint guns, and one guy was just pulling his rolling trash cans. There were children and dogs along – obviously this is also a family affair.
All day long we had been professing the charms of Friedrichshain’s lovely cafes and convinced my father to come to our neighbourhood for dinner, I hadn’t mentioned the potential of fruit warfare to my father so he was a tad alarmed to see punks armed with rotten tomatoes, beer and dogs greet us as we walked to the atelier.
The entire walk home – the people just kept coming – we realised we were in no imminent danger – but certainly decided it was not going to be a photo-op we would chose to participate in. Well I probably would have if not for my dear old Dad.
Then up drives Leo one of our fellow studio mates from Croatia. He has slime all over his pants. “Have you seen vat is going on out there” he yelled. He inadvertently stopped his car to pick up something from a store, noticed a burning vehicle and before he could flee was hit by a barrage of fruit salad. He said he was scared – “I thought vas war – like in home country – then vas ok- just produce” He then stayed and took a whole photo essay and had the orange juice stains to prove it. I was a little bit jealous.