Lucky last from the Berlinische Galerie, which I’ve only been to once before shortly after I arrived in Berlin and remembering not liking but felt like I ought to cos it was getting hyped, but here I am a lifetime on and nah still don’t like it. Abstract Expressionism though, I do have a soft spot for my eyes and brain getting fucked on these visuals.
Still at the Berlinische Galerie. Obviously I liked this one. Totalled Deutsch hoonage? Easier fix than changing the timing chain. Sometimes I wonder if I’m emotionally swayed by art which is actually superficial at best and kind of white neoliberal corporate in its heart. I dunno. Would I watch 10 minutes of this Benz doing a Nürburgring lap? Duh! Simple pleasures.
Primarily I went there to see this painting. Me and eyebleed colour, eh. And at the end of a couple of hours, it was still my fave painting. The colours are kinda off in my photo though cos I still have no idea how to do colour-balancing.
Seen on Urbanstr. as the first snow started to fall, proper German hoonage of an Audi TT RS Mk2 Coupé in winter camouflage white riding slammed on black RoadForce centerlock rims (or at least pretending to be centerlock). “Guys better show respect / If they see man pullin’ up in a TT”
A couple of months ago Bonnie said, “Come to Napoli!” Wednesday, my first time flying since 2019, first time out of Berlin since Miss Rona arrived (very masked and all for the whole trip), first time in Italy since 2014, I arrived in Napoli. And damn I forgot how much I love flying. The takeoff, the landing (it was a bumpy one), the hours above the clouds where the sky is a much darker blue.
Been wanting one of these for ages. Said to Gala, “I’m looking forward to slightly skinning myself again just above my outside ankle bone.” Added a few other upsetting quantities of flowing blood to that particular overly close shave. Seductively terrifying how weightlessly it scythed my armpit undergrowth. Are my legs and pits smooth in a way disposable razors can never? Very yes.
The trees along the southern perimeter road which I know so well. I haven’t sat under all of them only because I have my favourites.
This storm line slipped to the south-west of Tempelhofer Feld. The next one to the north-east. Threading the sunny needle between downpours all afternoon.
The Flugfeld doing that pretty late-summer bloom of lilac-lavender chicory flowers. I sat under a tree reading Fatimah Asghar’s If They Come For Us.
First time ever being inside the Neue Nationalgalerie, and with Alison Currie who’s blasting through Berlin / Germland / the north-west Asian peninsula (aka Europe) on a dance / art trip.
One of the last artworks we saw, and the last painting I photographed before we schlepped around the gift shop. It’s supposed to be three chicks perving at a naked dude, but I think it’s three trans women showing off what the fourth could have if she just got on hormones and embraced her femme.