Karen 5.0

Less is More...or Less

2011-12-07T08:45:00.002-06:00

Marcel Duchamp was one of their influences. Herb and Dorothy Vogel were champions and collectors of their art. Their work continues to maintain a strong presence in prominent private and museum collections. But after many years of art immersion, I still struggle to appreciate them. I'm talking about Minimalist and Conceptual artists. Or rather, their art.

In an ongoing effort to determine whether or not I am simply just a Minimal/Conceptual Art Philistine (and to once again try to rid myself of The Emperor's New Clothes refrain that accompanies me when I look at much of the art that falls into these categories), I recently visited the Museum of Contemporary Art to see the exhibition The Language of Less (Then and Now). I liked that the show's theme required the curators to dig deep into the museum's collection to highlight the work of Minimalist artists such as Donald Judd, Sol LeWitt, and Richard Serra. The work of a newer generation of artists who have been inspired by these men was juxtaposed in a way that mostly made sense, although I think the author of the wall text struggled at times to strengthen these somewhat tenuous connections. I noticed at least four separate groups of people being guided through the exhibition by a docent/teacher who attempted to explain the thought processes behind the art. Some observers appeared puzzled, others bored, while still others played with their iPhones. I was reminded of one of the last scenes in Olivier Assayas' haunting film Summer Hours (2008) in which this very theme, among others, was addressed beautifully. In other words, how does this art speak to us now? What does it say and to whom?

A recent viewing of the excellent nine-part BBC series, Art of the Western World, really got me thinking that I may have been irrevocably seduced by the colors, forms, subject matter, -isms, as well as the artists' lives and talent of "traditional" Western Art of the past 2,500 years. I appreciated esteemed art critic and theorist Rosalind Krauss' explanations of Minimalist, Pop, and Conceptual Art, but she merely highlighted the problem I have with some of the art from those movements. The narrator of the program wondered where art was headed and in the last episode of this 1989 series, suggested that it was headed back to nature (e.g. Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty) much as they had initially done thousands of years ago when our ancestors used caves as their canvas. But I have yet to see contemporary examples of such inspired work in our times. I am waiting.

Wicker Park

2011-10-24T08:07:00.003-05:00

Marketa Sivek, Soo Kim Chang, Kevin Lahvic, James Monroe, Charlie Rees, Mary Andrus ATR, LCPC, Vis-A-Vis Art Gallery, and Collaboraction Theater are just some of the 50 artists and entities renting space in the Flat Iron Arts Building in Wicker Park. The First Fridays event allows visitors to see some of the studios which are open to the public between 6-10 pm. When I was in the building this past Friday however (technically the third Friday), the only people there were a maintenance man on a ladder and an artist who took me up in the rickety elevator. The initial thrill of having the entire place nearly to myself was quickly overshadowed by locked doors and (but for my footsteps) quiet hallways. Occasionally, I heard music and smelled cigarette smoke coming from inside one of the studios and I tried to imagine what was being created at that moment. All was not lost, though - I was able to peek inside some of the work spaces that had glass windows and quite a few art works with corresponding prices hung on the corridor walls. I came to this building with friends many years ago for Around the Coyote (sadly, cancelled in 2010), and the memory of the stifling crowds and heat back then convinced me that my recent experience was the better of the two.

I was happy that Derrick, the owner of The Bongo Room, remembered me. Over fifteen years ago, friends and I would wander in for breakfast burritos at the restaurant's original location wedged under the Blue Line El tracks in Wicker Park. It has long since moved from its original location to a bigger space down the street on Milwaukee (where I stopped in on Friday) and there is another one in the Loop. Content after catching up with Derrick and making short work of a beef tenderloin baguette sandwich accompanied by Saint Andre cheese, watercress apple relish, and horseradish aioli, I began the 3.5 mile hike up to Lakeview (my old neighborhood) to see The Mill and the Cross (see prior post). Walking along Ashland, which is decidedly unlovely in parts (e.g. one section is an industrial corridor over a branch of the Chicago River), I crossed a couple of bridges and passed by the now-closed Green Dolphin Street, one of my favorite jazz spots from way back, which is now open for special events. [The other great "Green" jazz place is The Green Mill in Uptown, still going strong after nearly 100 years.]

Things got brighter as I approached Prescott Elementary School further north on Ashland. Sunlight reflecting off gold and silver mosaic tiles of an outdoor mural on the school's wall caught my eye. I later learned that the school children work with artists in Green Star Movement to design personalized murals that reflect their ethnic backgrounds and ties to the community. A detailed shot (above right) of an interior music-themed mural was taken by chef Alan Lake. Tesserae treasures created by budding Gustav Klimts.

The Mill and the Cross

2011-10-22T11:12:00.002-05:00

If you've ever wondered what it would be like to be inside of a painting rather than to merely gaze at one from without, The Mill and the Cross places you right in the midst of 1564 Flanders, with Pieter Bruegel the Elder (Rutger Hauer!) as your guide. Inspired by a spider spinning its web, we follow along as Bruegel describes the creative process behind his masterpiece, The Procession to Calvary, to his wealthy patron and friend, played by Michael York. Among the most interesting of these imagined revelations was the artist's decision to reverse the stature accorded to the figures of Christ and the miller.

During the course of the film, you are privy to quiet, intimate scenes of Flemish daily life. There are also harsher scenes depicting religious persecution of the Flemish Protestants by the Spanish Catholics, a parallel to the painting's theme of Christ's crucifixion. Of the 500 characters depicted in the art work, we follow the stories of a handful of people. If the action were to freeze at any of these moments, you can imagine the scene captured in any one of Bruegel's famously character-filled paintings. In fact, the action does "stop" near the end of the film, and the camera withdraws as the tableau vivant transforms into the painting as it hangs on the wall of the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna today. A merciful lack of incessant dialogue or music reinforced the film's atmosphere. For me, it was also a more intimate experience because there were just a few of us in the smaller, less flamboyant, screening room of The Music Box theater.

The Mill and the Cross premiered at Sundance to much acclaim and has been shown at numerous film festivals throughout the year. The multi-faceted Polish director, Lech Majewski, also produced and co-wrote the film. As if that were not enough, he was also the cinematographer, the music arranger, and the illustrator of the drawings of The Procession which appear in the film. Majewski said that he had always been captivated by the Bruegel painting and imagined living inside of it. The film was a labor of love beginning three years ago. It was worth the wait. Perhaps the film will inspire museum-goers to spend more time with individual paintings - each with their own unique stories - and thus, honor them with the full attention and appreciation they merit.

Queen to Play (Joueuse)

2011-10-17T16:48:00.000-05:00

If chess isn't your game, Queen to Play (Joueuse) just might pique your interest enough to get you to pull out that chessboard and give it a go. If you're already a fan, you'll probably appreciate the game even more. The film stars Sandrine Bonnaire (one of the loveliest names you may ever hear), Jennifer Beals (!) in a sexy, protagonist-altering cameo appearance, and a non-hammy Kevin Kline in his first French-speaking role. I don't know about you, but I rather like when American actors step out of their comfort zones and leap into something new. It has worked extremely well for Kristen Scott Thomas in the French films I have seen her in, particularly Tell No One and Leaving.

The setting is Corsica. A woman (Helene) rescues herself from continuing to live a nondescript life by falling in love with chess. In a critical early scene, she observes the seductive power a beautiful woman has over her lover by playing - and ultimately winning - the game. Thereafter, she persuades her employer (the reclusive, sad Kline) to teach her to play better. Helene eventually becomes so good that she wins a local amateur championship, but not without some predictable strife with her husband and daughter along the way.

Though some films are better seen on a big screen, I have found that I prefer to view the majority of them on a smaller TV screen and on DVD. One of the advantages to doing the latter is the extras and bonuses you can enjoy in addition to the movie. In this case, I watched interviews with some of the cast and crew as well as actual chess tournaments in which older players were losing to 10-year-olds and teenagers played against each other in blindingly fast blitz chess. [I freely admit that over the summer, my six-year-old nephew and I played chess and yes, he beat me a couple of times!] The chess club president of Corsica said that the game is practically taught as a subject in the grade schools, not just because of the elegance of the game itself, but because of the discipline, thought, consideration for others, inter-generational friendships, and gamesmanship it inspires. Perhaps non-Corsicans, young and old alike, would benefit from mastering this game. I know I want to brush up on mine.

Chess, anyone?

Fine Art and Fair Trade Coffee

2011-10-13T16:47:00.002-05:00

Avoiding school groups and scores of others taking advantage of the two free Wednesdays per month at the Art Institute of Chicago can prove to be a challenge. Arriving right when it opens feels like you may have gotten a jump on things, but only if you hasten to lesser-frequented areas of the museum.

If you can determine where the crowds are heading, you can head in the other direction and spend quality time (as I did) with rooms of Manet, Pissarro, Courbet, and Degas all to yourself. Likewise, with the exquisite little Daumier bronze series, Celebrities of the Juste Milieu. I swear, I laughed at some of the expressions on their faces and only the guards looked askance at me. In another wing, I was alone with some works of Arthur Dove and Marsden Hartley (two personal favorites), and some pretty O'Keeffee paintings.

In another gallery, an exhibition of Cy Twombly sculptures left me appreciating his paintings even more.

I'd never taken advantage of the docent tours that most museums offer until today. I rather enjoyed the Everyday Objects express tour, during which we learned the history behind an 1820s hand-painted trinket box; a grandfather clock with intricate scenes from Maine's history; a beaded Crow Indian cradle; and a Maidu Indian hand-woven cooking basket.

I took a break after this tour to meet a Sotheby's classmate for coffee and a cookie at Intelligentsia. Be advised: the coffee may cause swooning.

Back at the museum, I took advantage of another free tour of the highlights of the Modern Wing, which opened in 2009. The knowledgeable, entertaining docent asked our group provocative questions about Matisse's Bathers by a River; Picasso's Blue Period The Old Guitarist and the Cubist Portrait of Kahnweiler (upper left); Kandinsky's Improvisation No. 30 (Cannons); Conrad Felixmuller's unsettling The Death of the Poet Walter Rheiner; another Matisse; David Hockney's The Collectors; a Robert Smithson piece; Michelangelo Pistoletti's Girl Drawing; and Felix Gonzalez-Torrez' moving Portrait of Ross, a work which consisted of 170 pounds of candy piled up in a corner, and one of many thoughtful pieces in his eponymous gallery. It was energizing to engage with the works this way - often, I tend not to spend too much time with them. It was refreshing to be reminded that there is always something new to be gained by truly seeing the art.

Still feeling energized, I explored exhibitions and galleries in the museum that are off my usual Art Institute beaten path. For instance, I was reluctant to visit Windows on the War: Soviet TASS Posters at Home and Abroad 1941-1945, but I pushed myself to view the ghastly propaganda posters anyway. I didn't like being alone in some of the rooms where I felt very uncomfortable with the violent imagery and hatred. I avoided the Belligerent Encounters exhibition, which embraced a similar theme, for this reason. Who needs more of those kinds of encounters when everyday life provides us with quite enough of them? Still, I felt that they deserved a view. Not all art is lovely.

I went through the photography gallery downstairs (I especially liked a Lewis Carroll portrait of a young girl), the Thorne Miniature Rooms, and the Arthur Rubloff paperweight collection. I really love the French millefiori examples. The Mitsubishi Gallery of Japanese, Chinese, and Korean Art revealed lovely celadons, Tang Dynasty pieces, and earthenware strikingly similar to some art work of the Pacific Northwest Indians. I enjoyed the calming Alsdorf Gallery of Hindu, Buddhist, and Islamic Art. The renovated galleries are such a welcome change from the war-like, murky, weapon-laden rooms of old. Now, it's light and airy and the statues of gods appear to float in the open space.

At this point, I'd been indoors for much longer than I wanted to be, considering that the curtain is likely to come down soon on our gorgeous October fall weather. I hastened outdoors to take advantage of what remained of the warm, sunny day.

September in Prague

2011-10-08T15:16:00.003-05:00

Prague never lets you go… this dear little mother has sharp claws. –Franz Kafka

A month ago, I was in the capital of the Czech Republic to meet with friends and interview with future colleagues about a teaching position at one of the universities there. I also wanted to explore other opportunities to teach and write. The city is as lovely, melancholy, and spooky (alchemy, defenestration, the Golem and all) as I remember it from several visits during the early 90s, but with one noticeable difference: the staggering number of tourists that throng the central medieval streets and squares. Once you leave the most well-trodden paths, however, you are either mingling with residents or quite suddenly alone.

Prague was spared WWII’s destruction and it remains an architecture lover’s dream no matter what style or period. I explored two Gothic castles, several Romanesque and Baroque cathedrals, and a Renaissance palace; walked over medieval bridges (the most famous is the Karlov); admired a series of Cubist houses; and had coffee at three Art Nouveau coffee shops (Café Louvre, the Grand Café Orient, and the most exquisite – Obecni Dum). I wandered through the history of Czech art at the impressive, Functionalist-style National Gallery (please see my post below for a review of a show there), and saw two photography shows – one at the Gothic/Baroque/Neo-Baroque (!) House at the Stone Bell Tower, and the other in the Neo-Gothic Old Town City Hall. For those whose architectural taste runs to the contemporary (but why would you be in Prague then?), observe the 1996 Deconstructionist Nationale-Nederlanden Building, more popularly known as Dancing House because it suggests a cheek-to-cheek Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers swaying to music only they can hear. The building was co-designed by Vlado Milunic and Frank Gehry and is located on the east bank of the Vltava River.

If the architecture isn’t enough to keep the average Josef/Josefina content, there is no lack of cultural events to partake of indoors in Prague. I made the most of my five days to see as much as I possibly could, both outdoors and indoors. At the Municipal Library, I saw an exhibition about Czech avant garde painters from the 1930s and ‘40s. At St. Nicholas Church in the Old Town Square, I enjoyed a free concert given by Choir Inter Nos, a fantastic men’s group from The Netherlands. Their eclectic repertoire included songs from Handel's Messiah, from Mozart and Verdi, a song or two from Africa, The Rhythm of Life, and even something from the musical, Cats. After some searching, I eventually found Josef Sudek’s original atelier, which is now a landmark.

Back outside, after touring the grounds of the Vysehrad castle, I made a special visit to the adjoining cemetery in which famous Czech artists have been laid to rest. Many of the monuments and headstones were created by well-known sculptors and are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. Later, after the short funicular ride up to Petrin forest, I walked downhill through the winding streets that surround Prague’s main castle. I stopped at the tiny Josef Sudek gallery. Several descending switchbacks on yet more tiny cobble-stoned streets, I arrived at the relative sanctuary of Wallenstein Garden, complete with live owls, white peacocks, dripping rock formations amid grottos, and the requisite hedgerows and fountains.

Kafka's quote above is quite true. After each visit, Prague's mystique expands to encompass your experiences there - both real and imagined.

Here's “Talking at You” - The Fusion Art of Shalom Tomas Neuman in Prague

2011-10-08T14:59:00.005-05:00

Prague-born, Brooklyn-based Shalom Tomas Neuman’s exhibition, “Talking at You” was recently on view at the National Gallery in Prague.. The exhibition has since traveled to various venues within Prague, including the American Center, Galerie La Femme, Franz Kafka Museum, TINA B Contemporary Art Festival, and Artistic Pottery & NOVITO.

Neuman describes his work as “Fusion Art,” which “combin[es] color, motion, and sound into a multidisciplinary, multisensory extravaganza aimed at appealing to more than just the visual sense…it reflects and comments on a world…seriously out of joint and in need of repair.” In his latest series entitled Amerika, Neuman gives the featured 34 pieces ordinary names like Paul, Larry, and Elsie. They are portraits of everyday people made of a variety of found objects combined in ways that appeal to all the senses. Some of the portraits even “speak” as you walk by, providing commentary on topics such as unemployment, the environment, and religion. The contrast of the colorful, almost toy-like faces with the messages they emit is startling.

In addition to employing the concept of Fusion Art in his own work, Neuman invites other artists to join in the creative process as well. Two performances connected to the exhibition took place on September 5 at HUB Praha and on September 8 at the National Gallery. Both featured collaborations between New York-based performance art group, The Unbearables, and Prague-based members of PEN Praha. During the latter event, it slowly became clear that something was happening or about to happen when one member of The Unbearables began to disrobe and tape and bind herself as a statement about freedom (or the lack thereof) in countries of the world represented by flags which she arranged to suggest that they were suffocating her. Other members of The Unbearables staged themselves throughout the exhibition space and began to sing or play musical instruments. It was often unclear who was part of the show until something spontaneous and unusual happened and caused a crowd to gather. PEN Praha performers read aloud from books and others recited poetry, encouraging interaction with the listeners, gently forcing the audience to become active participants instead of passive onlookers.

Throughout the evening, a neurologist friend of the artist’s walked through the gallery spraying scent and distributing incense sticks. She said that she had helped to coordinate all the sensory experiences of the show in keeping with Neuman’s wish to present his work in a stimulating environment designed to engage 100% of the viewer’s attention, a goal that was achieved from what I experienced.

Films I've Seen in the Past 18 Months

2011-10-01T13:35:00.004-05:00

Greetings! You have asked about films (and books - please see the below post) I've enjoyed since 1 April 2010. Here they are, in no particular order. I have bolded those I recommend and would or have seen several times. Paris, Texas; The Seventh Seal; Berlin, Alexanderplatz; Paris, Je t’aime; El Norte; Damage; The History Boys; At Play in the Fields of the Lord; The Social Network; My Life So Far; Until the End of the World; A Prophet; Somewhere; Sunset Boulevard; Certified Copy; Citizen Kane; The King’s Speech; Ladies in Lavender; Bright Young Things; Tea With Mussolini; Capitalism: A Love Story; Idiocracy; V for Vendetta; Good Bye, Lenin!; Gigi; Munich; Heavenly Creatures; Amores Perros; Hiroshima, Mon Amour; The Red Violin; It Might Get Loud; Closely Watched (Observed) Trains; The Last Station; Chinatown; Please Give; In the Mood for Love; The Other Boleyn Girl; Talk to Her; Harry Brown; Man on Wire; The Pianist; Night and Fog; Mid-August Lunch; Black Swan; After the Wedding; Made in Dagenham; Danzon; My Name is Khan; The Edge of Heaven; The Red Shoes; A Good Year; The Turning Point; Innocence; La Buche; Close-Up; A Christmas Tale; The Passenger; Heaven; The Traveler; A Single Man; L’Avventura; The Piano Teacher; New York, I Love You; The Flight of the Red Balloon; Waiting for Superman; Knife in the Water; Greenberg; Othello; Eat, Pray, Love; Blow-Up; Trois Coleurs; The Double Life of Veronique; Before Sunset; The Unbearable Lightness of Being; Abres Los Ojos; The Headless Woman; The Third Man; Inside Job; A Man and a Woman; All My Good Countrymen; Wild Strawberries; You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger; Persona; Born Into Brothels; The Last Metro; Elegy; Perfume; Lust Caution; Breathless; Coco Avant Chanel; La Haine; Amelie; The Decalogue; No End; Bungalow; Masquerade; Bright Star; Tous Les Matins du Monde; Casa de Los Babys; Delicatessen; La Dolce Vita; 2 Days in Paris; Hollywood Ending; Far Away, So Close!; Meantime; Julian Assange; Death of a Cyclist; The Convent; Frantic; Rififi; La Femme Nikita; The Day the Earth Stood Still (remake); Blame it on Fidel!; The Conversation; Babel; Chloe; Inglourious Basterds; Hideaway (Le Refuge); Inspector Bellamy; The Moon in the Gutter; Waste Land; La Nana (The Maid); Hidden Love; Man Push Cart; Moon; I am Love; In Brugges; Fish Tank; Radiant Child; Fire; Persepolis; Fair Game; The Oxford Murders; Temple Grandin; The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo; Brush with Fate; Goya’s Ghosts; Breaking and Entering; Leaving; Transit Café; 400 Blows; Year of the Quiet Sun; A Couch in New York; Taste of Cherry; L'Argent de Poche; Beyond the Clouds; 8 Femmes; The Wrong Man; Home; L’Enfer; Notorious; Blind Chance (Przypadek); Manon of the Spring; Angel; Irma Vep; A King in New York; Dogs Decoded; A Woman of Paris; Mademoiselle Chambon; Swimming Pool; Pickpocket; Dogville; The Red Balloon; Badlands; Once; Days of Heaven; Day Break; Science of Sleep; Twenty-four Eyes; A Thousand Years of Good Prayers; Kings of Pastry; Up in the Air; All Good Things; L’homme du train; M; Sylvia; Bernard and Doris; Disengagement; Jane Eyre; Blue Valentine; The Kids Are All Right; Iron Jawed Angels; Lacombe, Lucien; Starting Out in the Evening; Everlasting Moments; Kolya; Boogie Woogie; Chocolat (Claire Denis); Another Year; Mulholland Drive; Summer in Genoa; L.I.E.; Farewell; Gosford Park; Exit Through the Gift Shop; Hanna; Naked; Midnight in Paris; Joyeux Noel; Camera Buff (Amator); Georgia O’Keeffe; Romulus, My Father; The Valet; White Material; Strange Culture; Life During Wartime; Marjorie Morningstar; Silent Light; Whiskey Romeo Zulu; The Leopard; If; Snow Angels; Underground; The Scar; Bitter Moon; Bill Cunningham New York; Angels & Insects; The American Friend; My Dog Tulip; Kings and Queen; The Killing; Stolen Kisses; Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench; Conceiving Ada; Limitless; Factory Girl; Die Fremde (When We Leave); The Good German; Killer’s Kiss; Solo Sunny; The Last Days of Disco; Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky; True Grit (remake); Five Easy Pieces; Road to Nowhere; You the Living; Cinema Paradiso; Clean; Copying Beethoven; The Lives of Others; Songs from the Second Floor; Unknown; Stephanie’s Image; 101 Nights; The Black Book; Death of Mr. Lazarescu; Cassandra’s Dream; The Air I Breathe; Effi Briest; Still Life; Incendiary; Dead Man; Memento; and Sexy Beast.

Books I've Read in the Past 18 Months

2011-10-01T12:25:00.004-05:00

You have asked about what I've been reading. Bolded titles are those I recommend and/or would read again. [In some cases, I've already read read them at least once before.] I have faith that the bibliophile and Google-phile in you can successfully identify the authors. The Berlin Diaries; Timbuktu; The Berlin Stories; Saturday; Once Upon a Time in the East; People with Problems; Amsterdam; To the Wedding; A Year in Provence; Orfeo; What’s Bred in the Bone; Idioglossia; The Sufferings of Young Werther; Fatherland; A Room of One’s Own; Tropic of Cancer; Tuesdays with Morrie; The Weimar Culture; White Teeth; Stories from God; Cannery Row; A Moveable Feast; Blackberry Wine; Galileo’s Daughter; Miss Julie; What’s Eating Gilbert Grape; Berlin – The City and the Court; The Spy Who Came in from the Cold; Enduring Love; When to Walk; A Reliable Wife; Swan; Alone in Berlin; Stasiland; Revolutionary Road; Great Expectations; Old School; Bird by Bird; Flaubert’s Parrot; On Chesil Beach; The Glass Palace; The Innocent; Two Lives; Black Dogs; In the Place of Fallen Leaves; Small Island; The Impressionist; The Golden Notebook; Fruit of the Lemon; The Faith of a Writer; Creativity; The Mind’s Eye; Blond; The Secret of Chanel No. 5; On Writing; The Museum of Innocence; Writers in Paris; A Visit from the Goon Squad; Walks With Men; Russian Winter; Enlightened Sexism; The Imperfectionists; Fame; Paris Tales; Perfect Reader; Lush Life; Solar; Soul Mining; Pensees; Lost & Found in Russia; Indiana; Broken; The Year of the Flood; A Lily of the Field; Hector and the Search for Happiness; The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers; I See Rude People; Lonely Planet/Paris; Imperial Bedrooms; Year of the Hare; Beatrice & Virgil; All Is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost; Dear Money; Sunset Park; Memory Wall; Bird Cloud; Juliet; Repetition; The Poet; Double Lives, Second Chances; Edible Stories; The Box; 5th Avenue 5 am; The Gordian Knot; Lost Horizon; The Last Chinese Chef; An American Tragedy; A Cup of Light; The Elephant’s Journey; Lost in Translation; The Dead Lie Down; The Art of Memory; Breakfast at Tiffany’s; Specters; Audrey Hepburn; Down and Out in Paris and London; Crossing; Encounter; Watermark; The Finkelstein Question; The Convent; The Passion; The Typist; Reading Women; Songs of Blood and Swords; Snowdrops; Through the Language Glass; Invisible River; Nine Lives; Enough About Love; Chasing Vermeer; The Weekend; Medium Raw; The Paris Wife; Portobello; The Dreamseller; The Charming Quirks of Others; Late for Tea at the Deer Palace; The Thieves of Manhattan; The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas; The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay; The Fates Will Find Their Way; An Object of Beauty; Think Positive; The Sunday Philosophy Club; My Reading Life; The Shallows; The “S” Word; Brown-Eyed Girl; The Dewey Decimal System; The Tree; What Would Jane Say?; The Silent Land; Heart of the City; The Ghost in Love; On the Road to Babadag; 12 Steps to a Compassionate Life; The Paper Garden; Double Happiness; Walking to Hollywood; Visitation; Nine; Player One; Is Journalism Worth Dying For?; The Petting Zoo; The Bell Jar; Irretrievable; Intern Nation; Life on Sandpaper; Prep: A Novel; Flower Confidential; Women, Work, and the Art of Savoir Faire; On Tangled Paths; Netsuke: A Novel; The History of History; Bad Marie: A Novel; The Art of Memory; The Tiger’s Wife; Radio Shangri-La; Pulse; A Long, Long Time Ago and Essentially True; Tea of Ulaanbaatar; How Proust Can Change Your Life; No Regrets: The Life of Edith Piaf; The Architecture of Happiness; In the Garden of the Beasts; The Art of Travel; The Optimism Bias; The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work; Twice Born; My Life and Captivity in Iran; A Good Hard Look; Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven; Ten Thousand Saints; Motivation and Personality; Robinson Crusoe; Utz; Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives; I am a Japanese Writer; A Week at the Airport; Prague: A Cultural and Literary History; Bossypants; The Unbearable Lightness of Being; How to Listen to Great Music; Inside a US Embassy; Bonjour Tristesse; Lonely Planet - Prague; Status Anxiety; Culture Shock! Czech Republic; Goodbye Cinema, Hello Cinephilia; Little Bee; On Love; Open City: A Novel; In Praise of Idleness; La Seduction: How the French Play the Game of Life; The Consolations of Philosophy; 1493: Uncovering the New World; Consider the Lobster; Rough Guides to Prague (2); The Tao of Travel; My American Unhappiness; Can You Get Hooked on Lip Balm?; The Spiral Staircase; Prague Tales; The Convalescent; The Botany of Desire; Are Men Necessary?; The Language of Flowers; Lee Krasner: An Autobiography; A Romantic Education; Kieslowski on Kieslowski; No Saints or Angels; Daniel Stein, Interpreter; The Captive Mind; Black Lamb and Grey Falcon; Headhunters; Hector and the Secrets of Love; Paris Was Ours; and Stone Arabia.

Tschüs!

2010-07-01T01:11:00.004-05:00

During the two years I lived in India, I was exposed to more than a few Bollywood films, so I had some idea of what to expect when I went with a friend to see My Name is Khan - lots of color, dancing, music, over-the-top facial expressions, and the obligatory rain storm scene which is meant to imply sex between the protagonists. Yes, some of these elements were present in Khan and the storyline required major suspension of disbelief in some parts. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the film more than I thought. Khan sparked controversy in India and tickets sold out immediately when it premiered in February at the Berlin Film Festival.

Afterwards, we went for some excellent Vietnamese food in my neighborhood. We talked about the film and then our conversation turned to the subject of art and film critics. [My friend had been a colleague of the New Yorker film critic, Pauline Kael.] I admire many critics including Kael, and thought of them frequently as I reviewed films, plays, gallery shows, museum exhibitions, and music events in New York and Berlin. However, it occurred to me over the course of the dinner that I no longer want to comment on what others have created. I want to create something myself; therefore, I intend to spend the next several months on a project I began four years ago.

Karen 5.0 has been a great experience, but now I need to focus my energy elsewhere. Fifteen months and 178 entries later, I thank you for reading. Tschüs!

Honor Among Thieves

2010-06-28T02:42:00.003-05:00

Last night, I felt like a salmon swimming against the tide of 100,000 flag-waving (and -wearing), pop-eyed, whooping, vuvuzela-tooting Berliners flowing from Straße des 17 Juni (the long avenue that connects The Victory Column and The Brandenburg Gate). The televised victory of Germany over England advanced Germany to the quarterfinals of the World Cup and was the cause of major celebration in the streets. I'm not going to lie - I don't like watching most sports (tennis is an exception - I loved the "Marathon Match" at Wimbledon last week), but I admit to getting caught up in the excitement.

Nevertheless, I was happy for the silence at my destination, Kino Arsenal, a favorite Berlin venue. Here you can see film series that are categorized by countries of origin (e.g. Poland, Brazil, Mexico, India, or America); by director (e.g. Wim Wenders, Alfred Hitchcock, Andrej Wajda, Akira Kurosawa, or Roberto Rosselinni); or by time period (e.g. Mexican dramas from the 1940's, French films from the 1960's, Italian Neorealism, or American Westerns). If you happen to be a filmmaker yourself, you can get your masterpiece professionally cleaned/restored there. You can rent some of the theater space within the venue to screen films for small groups. You can see films that are more esoterically grouped by their use of sound, color, or special effects. French director Robert Bresson's 1959 film, Pickpocket, was featured as part of the "use of sound" group. Aside from the barest minimum of dialogue, the sound of footsteps, and a few key scenes accompanied by beautiful orchestral pieces, the film is quiet.

The story is simple: a man wants to help his ailing mother and turns to pickpocketing to do it. He is a French pickpocket, though, so this means that he not only has intellectual discussions with like-minded individuals about the morality of crime (a la Raskalnikov in Crime and Punishment, as has already been noted), he even keeps a thoughtful journal of his activities! Added to this is the character's voice over which further confirms his inner turmoil. The strange, zombie-like beauty of both of the lead actors, Martin LaSalle (Michel) and Marika Green (Jeanne), reinforced the nihilistic feel of the film.

I have to say that I learned quite a lot about pickpockets and their craft! Did you know that pinball is a good way to sharpen the reflexes? That daily finger exercises are good for manual dexterity? That there are countless creative ways to relieve someone of their wallet/purse/watch? That, when working in a team, sharing the winnings is best divvied up by a friendly game of cards? The best scenes in the film were the ones that showed the thieves at work. The ones which annoyed me showed Michel as he exited his dismal hovel of an apartment, leaving the door open in a most cavalier manner! After one or two scenes like this, I wondered if this was just carelessness on the part of the director, the character, or perhaps it was deliberate to show Michel's subconscious desire to get caught. That's why Edgar Allen Poe's The Telltale Heart came to mind, and when Michel interacted with the police inspector, I thought of the Les Miserables dynamic.

But all's well that ends well - mostly. Things got worse, then better, then worse again before the angelic, Pre-Raphaelite Jeanne redeemed Michel at the end. Pickpocket is a classic that served as an inspiration to director and screenwriter Paul Schrader (Taxi Driver, American Gigolo, Cat People, The Last Temptation of Christ).

A Night at the Opera

2010-06-26T01:14:00.000-05:00

Years ago when I was teaching in Buenos Aires, an oil company executive (one of my many students) gave me a CD for my birthday - Richard Strauss Orchestral Songs Volume I - sung by English soprano Dame Felicity Lott. Last night, I had the good fortune to enjoy Ms Lott's performance at the Deutsch Oper. With Sir Neville Marriner conducting, the evening began with Ottorino Respighi's Fontane di Roma. Ms. Lott then took the stage to perform Benjamin Britten's Les Illuminations, followed by Maurice Ravel's lovely Scheherazade. The very appreciative Berliner audience called her back on stage five times! Finally, the orchestra played the suite from Richard Strauss' Der Rosenkavalier to conclude the program.

Manuel, if you're reading this, thank you again for that CD.

Nine Hours in Leipzig

2010-06-21T04:08:00.004-05:00

75 minutes, 19 Euros*, acres of farmland, poppies, a few storks, and lots of wind turbines separate Berlin from Leipzig, which is situated about 150 kilometers to the southwest. Arriving at the city's Hauptbahnhof was an experience in itself. Leipzig boasts the largest train station in Europe. It is filled with shops that stay open until 10 pm (even on Sunday!), bustles with activity, and is as clean as a whistle.

I walked straight into the center of town to St. Nicholas Church, where the first freedom demonstrations took place in 1989. It was the last day of the Bach Festival, so the composer's music was featured in the mass yesterday. I looked up at the unusual mint-green and pink columns, designed to resemble palms. I don't think I've ever seen a church that was this organic, almost tropical. I crossed the street and entered Specks Hof, one of many old galleria-type shopping arcades in courtyards throughout the city.

Emerging onto Reichs Strasse and heading west towards the Alte Rathaus, I first encountered the wedding-cake like Old Bourse. In front of this was a statue of Goethe, who came to Leipzig to study law. [Please visit this great site, courtesy of a native Leipziger, for an excellent pictoral tour of the city. For a few reasons, I have opted out of photo-taking and therefore rely on others to augment my words with pictures.]

Nearby, Zeitgeschichtliche Forum (aka The DDR Museum) had just opened for the day. I had intended to spend just an hour there; instead, I spent more than two. This expertly-curated exhibition begins in the dark and ends in the light, literally and figuratively. The murky interior rooms tell the story of the formation of the German Democratic Republic (East Germany). All manner of things accompany this section - vintage films, photographs, passports, recordings, letters, suitcases, clothing, cameras, and even a cannon. As the timeline moves forward to the present day, the visitor approaches the exterior part of the building, which is windowed and full of light. I suspect this was intentional, and if so, quite brilliant. Footage of the wall coming down, interviews, songs, and teletype replicas from the German Police sent to their headquarters tell the story of the events that led to the fall of the wall over 20 years ago. It was moving.

Conveniently located next door to the museum was Auerbach's Keller, made famous by Goethe. While devouring a delicious plate of wild boar, potatoes, and red cabbage, it was easy to imagine the scene from Faust playing out here. I left just before an enormous tour group's arrival could spoil my reverie.

Walking off those carbohydrates was a pleasure. Wandering through fairly empty streets (all shops were closed because it was Sunday, but most restaurants, cafes, and bars were open), admiring centuries-old intact buildings was like going back in time...until the moment when turning a corner brought me face-to-face with a dreary specimen of DDR architecture, all concrete and paint store reject colors. Leipzig was bombed during WWII, but certainly not to the extent that Berlin was. So, here you have that jarring mix of old and new.

I kept up my search for the old and reached St. Thomas' Church, famous for once having had Johann Sebastian Bach as its Cantor. Mozart played here once. In a side room within the church, there is a display of instruments used during Bach's time. Portraits, bas reliefs, and other artwork adorn the otherwise austere interior of the church. I noticed that there would be a Bach concert at 6pm, but since my train left from across town at 7, I reluctantly had to let that idea go.

At the Museum der bildenden Künste (Museum of Fine Arts), which opened in 1848 and houses artwork from the 19th century to the present, I purchased a ticket for the Neo Rauch exhibition, Begleiter (Companion). To celebrate the native Leipziger's 50th birthday this year, a retrospective of the artist's work is being exhibited at this museum and concurrently at the Pinakothek Der Moderne in Munich until August 15th. Rauch's paintings have fascinated me since 2007, when I first saw his show at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. In particular, one piece, Die Flamme (2007) disturbed me greatly. It was on loan from The Met and it had the same effect on me three years later in Leipzig. His other work in this show consisted of large, rather surrealistic (a la Magritte) paintings - some old and some new. In the same way that Edward Hopper was said to have painted his own face into all his figurative work, I found that many pieces contained a central figure with remarkably Rauch-like features. Rauch is a key member of The New Leipzig School, and it is clear that his work is informed by aspects of Social Realism, juxtaposed with more traditional influences. It was hard to take my eyes off many of the strangely beautiful paintings.

In need of a major break, I got out of the tourist-filled town center, crossed the ring road, and found Luise, a cafe located in the Gottschedstraße (Sunset Boulevard). The street is lined with many theaters, cafes, and bars, all filled with locals. I had a large kaffee mit milch, and continued reading Zadie Smith's 2000 novel, White Teeth, which I am utterly enjoying.

For my last stop, I visited the Museum in der Runden Ecke, aka "Museum in the Round Corner," aka the former Ministry of State Security (Stasi) headquarters in Leipzig. This was a fascinating but really depressing place, kept just as ugly and spiritless as it likely was when it was a functioning office. I rented an English audio guide, something I am usually loath to do. However, there were many details that I wanted to understand about this period in history. My German, though improving, is nowhere near that level yet. I found myself getting a bit queasy - even claustrophobic - looking at the interrogation rooms, spy cameras, and the countless files kept on citizens. It smelled like fear in there. With relief, I exited the building and went immediately to a park near the train station, sat on a bench in the sun, and watched some nice ladies feed some nice ducks. I had to do something to lift my spirits!

I had time to grab a quick bite to eat at the station before the train left for Berlin. It was a great day trip out of the city and one that I recommend, whether you follow my itinerary or your own.

*InterConnex - If you plan to go by train from Berlin to Leipzig, do NOT get your tickets through Deutsch Bahn (DB). They will cost twice as much and your train will probably not be a direct one. Book online with InterConnex and pay half. The only drawback - and it is a minor one - is that you are limited to one or two trains per day. For instance, mine left Potsdamer Platz at 8:00am and arrived in Leipzig at 9:15. Coming back, I had to take the 6:55pm and it arrived in Berlin at 8:10pm.

La Monnaie Vivante (Human Money)

2010-06-19T10:20:00.003-05:00

On Thursday evening, I attended the opening performance of La Monnaie Vivante, an exhibition that took place from 7:30pm - 12:30am on 17-19 June. The venue was the Hebbel am Ufer 1, a classic old theater in Kreuzberg, and was one of the many events surrounding the opening of the Berlin Biennale.

Originally conceived in a Paris dance studio in 2006 (and inspired by French writer, translator, and painter Pierre Klossowski's work of the same name), La Monnaie Vivante toured Belgium (2007) and London (2008). It was restructured this year in cooperation with Warsaw's Museum of Modern Art.

We arrived at 7:30 pm. Instead of entering through the front doors, we were directed to the side entrance so that, like performers, we emerged onto the stage. The first thing we encountered was Mexican artist, Teresa Margolles' piece entitled In the Air (2003), a machine suspended from the ceiling which blew a continuous stream of bubbles. One guest slipped and fell on the watery residue from the bubbles and a young mother walked with her toddler through the bubbles. The latter was quite sweet, and it wasn't until later that I learned that the mixture used for the bubbles had been made with water used to wash the bodies of murder victims following their autopsies! The artist deliberately uses this mixture in her other work to call attention to the political and social violence of Mexico City. Probably for this reason, I immediately thought of the grisly passages from Roberto Bolaño's excellent novel, 2666.

A rhythmic mechanical sound drew us stage right, where two women were busy working on a pair of sewing machines. This was Danish artist Jens Haaning's piece, entitled Näherei Nebtex (2010), a mini-Berlin sewing factory. By bringing it on stage, the artist confronts the audience with the repetitive reality while simultaneously hinting at the exploitation of factory workers. This theme was also evident in 111 Constructions Made with 10 Modules and 10 Workers (2004), a performance piece by Spanish artist Santiago Sierra in which 10 Polish construction workers arranged a series of large pieces of wood into different formations at precise intervals.

At this point, I decided to wander off the stage and into the balcony section in the audience. There were a few people here, including the Polish artist, Artur Żmijewski, who likely wanted a good vantage point from which to see/hear his contribution to La Monnaie Vivante. In his piece, entitled William Shakespeare: Sonette (2010), a Turkish woman on stage left read haltingly from a book of sonnets that had been translated from English into German. [In New York, I had seen a couple of the artist's films and at MoMA, I listened to him speak about his collaboration with the Israeli artist, Yael Bartana.]

With a good view of the orchestra pit, I could see musicians assembling. Fairly soon afterwards, a bizarre cacophony of sounds emerged. Ranging from traditional wind instruments, guitars, and an accordion to tin plates, rocks, whistles, and their own voices, the Scratch Orchestra (conceived by British composer Cornelius Cardew in 1968) created their sounds together at the direction of a conductor. When the spirit moved them, some of the musicians would perform solos, much like a jazz piece, but with a more jarring aural effect.

A number of other artists contributed their work to La Monnaie Vivante, but I thought these were the most interesting. What I found particularly thought-provoking was that the boundaries between performer and audience were dissolved and that the audience (myself included) was always a bit unsure as to what would happen next and to what extent they would be involved. This element of discomfort heightened the sense that we were experiencing reality, in keeping with the theme of the Berlin Biennale.

Anfänge und Enden (Beginnings and Endings)

2010-06-16T10:37:00.003-05:00

I dealt successfully with complicated visa, apartment, and insurance issues this week, mostly in German. As I prepare to leave Schoneberg and move to Prenzlauerberg in the former East Berlin, I'm a little sad because I have gotten to know people and places in my Kiez and I will miss them. Nevertheless, I look forward to exploring my new neighborhood and to getting a bicycle! Language classes began again this week as well and I have some fun classmates and teachers from now until mid-July. After that, my focus will be on writing my book. I've spent spring in Berlin, summer will be here next week, and I will spend at least part of the fall here. After that, who knows?

What's On in Berlin

2010-06-12T10:49:00.002-05:00

There is a great deal going on this weekend in Berlin. The Biennale officially started on the 10th, the World Cup kicked off yesterday, and today, the Gay and Lesbian Fest began in my neighborhood. When faced with this many choices (in addition to the usual theater, music, and dance events throughout the city), it's hard to decide what to do.

For me, though, it was pretty easy - I had already visited several of the Biennale venues on Wednesday after the press preview; I'm not interested in Fußball (though if I wanted to, I could watch every single one of the games in any number of pubs around town), and I just took a quick peek at the Gay and Lesbian Fest. In the end, I decided to spend a little time at one of the many satellite events attached to the Biennale - the launch of the second issue of the magazine The World According To at Salon Populaire. I talked briefly with the artist, Olaf Nicolai, and then looked around at the rest of the exhibition, which included work by Ryan Trecartin and Channa Horwitz.

There are more Biennale-related events tomorrow, more World Cup games, and more Gay Pride, but if the weather is good, I think I might head to Wannsee with friends from my language class. I am ready to get out of the city and enjoy a little bit of nature!

What is Waiting Out There - Berlin Biennale 6

2010-06-09T14:22:00.002-05:00

At the press preview for the 6th Berlin Biennale this morning, Curator Kathrin Rhomberg said that 50 percent of the pieces were commissioned specifically for the event. The 43 artists were asked to create work which reflected their visions of reality. In two of the three venues I saw (there are six in all - four in Kreuzberg and two in Mitte), film/video was the preferred medium. The Biennale runs from 10 June - 8 August.

At Orianenplatz 17 in Kreuzberg, American artist Phil Collins' powerful film, Socialism Today, featured a 1988 Seoul Summer Olympics GDR female gymnast. It ended with a grand display of Sozialismus, similar to the scary beautiful precision of the opening ceremonies we saw at the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics. The gymnast spoke of grueling training sessions for 6-8 hours a day with little food. When her training ended, she began to eat normally, gained weight, and encountered problems trying to re-enter society as a young woman. The gymnast's mother said that if she had to do it over again, she would not have encouraged her daughter to train for the Olympics, but at the time, it was one of the only choices available to those who wanted some semblance of a life. As the gymnast's mother said these words, her daughter visibly choked up. I liked French artist Bernard Bazile's film, Les Manifs (The Demonstrations). In the same venue, Algerian artist Mohamed Bourouissa's C-Prints and films captured the reality of life in the French suburbs.

For some reason, I had my own private shuttle service from Oranienstrasse to the next venue I visited - KW Institute for Contemporary Art.. This is the supporting organization for the Berlin Biennale and was founded by Klaus Biesenbach, the curator of the first Biennale and now Director of MoMA P.S.1 in New York. My Albanian driver and I wondered why the traffic was so bad and then we saw that there was a student demonstration blocking our route. The driver was angry not only because of the traffic back-up but also because he said that German students didn't know how good they had things - Albanians and other students paid many times the amount of tuition that German students did. I told him that I might very well be paying off my Master's degree until the end of my days.

I entered KW by descending a narrow staircase and then emerged into a giant space filled with a wooden structure that looked like the foundation for a house. Roosters and hens were part of this piece! One of the hens took a liking to my lizard-skin cowboy boots. Clucking, she made her way slowly over to where I stood and started pecking on them as I calmly stood and made some notes, much to the merriment of the KW staff. I delicately moved away (not wanting to provoke or otherwise piss off the "art"), and continued upstairs to view other organic work by the same Kosovar artist - a very interesting one by the name of Petrit Halilaj. Also at KW, I liked Shannon Ebner's work with symbols and letters and John Smith's 2001 film, Frozen War, in which he did a voice-over commentary on a news clip about the Afghan war.

Finally, I walked over to the Alte Nationalgalerie to see the Adolph Menzel exhibition, which was curated by Michael Fried at Kathrin Rhomberg's invitation. According to Fried, Menzel (1815-1905) was the best Realist artist and draftsman, and he assured us that spending time with the work "...will tell you all you need to know about art." Fried chose 36 of the artist's drawings, gouaches, and paintings. He said that the Realists depicted "...not what the world looks like, but what it is like to live in the world." The works he chose were beautiful, funny, sad, and ghoulish - from delicate portraits to anatomical drawings to landscapes to grand Fredrich the Great paintings. I really liked the fact that the Biennale included the work of an artist who was Contemporary for his time. I explored more of the Menzel collection in the gallery created especially for his work and found especially interesting a painting from 1859, Studentenfackelzug, in which students are marching with torches. It reminded me of the demonstration I had witnessed earlier - plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose!

The Well-Tempered Hund

2010-06-08T10:49:00.001-05:00

Of all the places I've lived in, I have never seen dogs that are as well-trained as those in Berlin. I'm assuming that hounds from Hamburg to Frankfort, and from Leipzig to Dusseldorf are equally well-behaved, though I don't know this for a fact. Frequently off-leash, walking impatiently ahead of or dawdling behind their owners, or waiting expectantly outside shops for their owners to reappear, Berliner hunde go about their business in a civilized manner, unfazed by other dogs, animals, or people.

When I recall the stressed-out creatures I frequently observed in New York, I am convinced that it is the city itself which shapes both humans and animals. So there IS such a thing as a Berlin dog, a Paris dog, a New York dog, just as the the denizens of those cities have their own distinct characteristics

Small Victories

2010-06-07T12:07:00.004-05:00

Today, I registered my address at the Town Hall in Schöneberg (where JFK made his famous speech) and asked about extending my tourist visa; requested special care at the dry cleaner's for a pair of pants; asked about bank transfer/withdrawal fees and other miscellany at one of my banks; got a really beautiful, inexpensive haircut and color at a nearby Friseur; and arranged to see a few more apartments in different neighborhoods.

So what, you say? In New York, I completed tasks like this on auto-pilot. In Berlin, I am confronted with doing these things for the first time in another country and doing them in a language I didn't know two months ago. The mundaneness is about the same, but the sense of accomplishment here is much greater.

Big Sexyland

2010-06-06T03:20:00.009-05:00

For the past two months, I've been living in Schoneberg, which Marlene Dietrich, Helmut Newton, and Christopher Isherwood have called home. In many ways, the neighborhood could still be be described as a micro version of the larger, laissez faire, 1920s Berlin. For example, Motzstrasse was then, as it is now, home to many predominantly gay nightclubs and bars located behind Nollendorfplatz. It's also where the annual Gay Pride Parade (aka Christopher Street Day) takes place each June, coinciding with similar parades in New York City, San Francisco, and Paris. The annual Lesbian and Gay Festival is held in Berlin the weekend before the parade, and it is Europe’s largest of this kind.

In the midst of this culture, however, there is a strip of clubs that cluster together on Martin Luther Strasse from Motzstrasse to Fuggerstrasse. The block starts off and ends innocently enough with a couple of small restaurants, a pharmacy, a coffee shop/bakery, a “Big and Tall” men’s clothing store, and even an Aldi grocery. Nestled among these businesses, you can find “Big Sexyland,” the collective name for a rag-tag assortment of windowless casinos and strip joints with names like “Caligula.” Whether morning, noon, or night, whenever I pass by this area, I see men of all ages and descriptions slinking furtively in and out of these grim joints. Yet it's interesting to me how their demeanor and their clubs stand in such stark contrast to the confident, sexy swagger of the good-looking, tattooed, pierced, leather-clad males and the up-scale businesses that form the larger gay scene.

There’s another seedy area right across from the Nollendorfplatz U-Bahn station on Bulowstrasse. One day, I was walking along this street towards Potsdamer Platz and just before I reached Potsdamer Strasse, I noticed that a number of ladies of the evening had positioned themselves with the precision of red-wing blackbirds on a fence (every 100 feet or so), conforming to esoteric boundary rules to which I am not privy. Their nearly identical “uniform” of flashy handbags, short skirts, and cheap jackets as well as their cocked-hip stances left no doubt as to their business. I was startled at first to see these women in broad daylight and then I realized that prostitution is legal (and strictly regulated) in

Germany

.

Cities of every size have their designated “naughty” parts of town: Bangkok has Patpong, Paris has the Bois de Boulogne and Pigalle, New York City used to have Times Square, and Amsterdam its Red Light District. In Berlin, there are a few other neighborhoods that cater to the “Big Sexyland” and “Bulowstrasse Belles” clientele, but Schoneberg has the added feature of also offering entertainment to those whose tastes run to "Tom's Gay Bar."

Biking the Berlin Wall

2010-06-05T02:13:00.003-05:00

Thursday was the first truly summer-like day we've had in a month. Of course, it was essential to be outdoors, but instead of my usual walk or run, I chose to be on a bike for 18 kilometers, following the remnants of the Berlin Wall (in a few of its four phases). Our fun group was led by a knowledgeable and entertaining guide in the form of Pieter from Holland, courtesy of Berlin on Bike. Starting at the Kulturbrauerei in Prenzlauerberg, we headed north to Bornholmer Strasse, the checkpoint where thousands of East Berliners began to cross over to the West. Nothing remained of the checkpoint; instead, we saw the pitched tents of a soon-to-be circus, complete with camels grazing in the grass. Utterly surreal.

From Bornholmer Strasse, we headed south to Mauerpark, where a large, graffiti-covered portion of the Wall still stands. On a stretch of Bernauer Strasse, the Wall was constructed in the wee hours of the morning on August 13, 1961, immediately in front of the doors of a row of tenement houses. This forced many of the occupants to make a split decision - either remain in their houses (and therefore, in East Berlin) or jump out the windows, taking few if any belongings and flee to the West. At the Berlin Wall Memorial, we saw a watchtower, which Pieter told us was actually purchased for $2,500 on eBay and was not even from Germany. We peered through chinks in the Wall to see a portion of the infamous Death Strip, which stood between the two Walls (one for the East and one for the West), and which was continually raked so that soldiers could check for footprints of potential escapees. I had only thought that civilians tried to flee to the West, but many soldiers attempted the same. The most famous was Conrad Schumann (above right), although he later committed suicide, allegedly because of the paranoia that continued to plague him in the years after his successful escape. Some tried to hide in the nearby cemetery or the church which stood in between the two walls, while others successfully tunneled under the streets.

Next, we stopped at the Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery, whose walls formed part of the border between East and West Berlin. According to the web site, "Laid out in 1748, [the cemetery] was originally [meant to serve] the nearby Invalidenhaus, a hospital built for officers and soldiers disabled in military service. It opened to generals after the war against Napoleon in 1813, and starting at the end of the 19th century, civilians could be buried there, too." There is also a memorial here dedicated to Günter Litfin, the first person to be killed while attempting to flee to West Berlin.

We rode to a high point from which we could see the Reichstag, Potsdamer Platz, the TV Tower, the Spree, the Swiss Embassy, Hauptbahnhof, and the Federal Chancellery (aka "The Washing Machine" because of its appearance). Passing Brandenburg Gate and the Holocaust memorial, we paused in the nondescript parking lot that was the site of Hitler's Bunker. In the lovely Gendarmenmarkt, we observed the French Protestant Church, the German Dom, and the Konzerthaus, before pedaling north to cross Unter den Linden. We passed through Museuminsel and lively Hackescher Markt and made our way back to the bike depot in Prenzlauerberg.

My smug runner's pride began to loosen its grip that day, as I acknowledged the hard work that cycling entailed and more importantly, the joy of having the wind in your hair. Today is Saturday and the weather is still gorgeous, so I am going out for a run. But...in addition to contemplating which of the Sees I will visit with friends this weekend (Wannsee? Muggelsee?), I will be thinking about buying a used a bike, especially since I intend to remain in Berlin longer. There's no need for a wall separating running and cycling, is there?

Speaking of German...

2010-06-02T09:13:00.013-05:00

I finished the first phase of my intensive German course today. I have signed on for another six weeks of fun, which will begin late next week. Until then, I give you my favorite German words thus far, chosen mostly because of the way they sound, but in some cases, for what they mean:

Quark - curds
Quatsch - rubbish, nonsense
Kugelschreiber - pen
Erdbeeren - strawberries
Heidelbeeren - blueberries
Blitzableiter - flash of lightning
Glühbirne - literally, "glowing pear," aka light bulb
Brötchen - literally, "little bread," or roll, bun, etc. of which there are many varieties here
Zwiebel - onion
Hell - light, bright
Handy - cell phone
Staubsauger - literally, "dirt sucker,"aka vacuum cleaner
Taschentücher - packet of tissues
Schlüsselanhänger - key chain/key fob

Schmetterling - butterfly

Wimper - eyelash

Wunderschön - overwhelmingly, stunningly beautiful

Mensch - literally, "man," but used in many ways, e.g. "Mensch, what the hell are you doing?"

schmerzlos - painless

zwölf - twelve

fünf - five

Vogel - bird

Kinderspielplatz - children's playground

Krankenhaus - hospital

Schatz - treasure

Armbanduhr - wristwatch

Schmuck - jewelry

Gift - poison

Mist - literally, "animal dung," but used to express minor irritation, e.g. "Mist, I forgot to do my homework!"

Runners and Cyclists - A Love Story

2010-05-30T08:19:00.002-05:00

The Czech auto manufacturer, Škoda announced plans last month to extend its partnership with Tour de France until 2013. This morning, the Škoda Velothon Berlin began at 9:00 am at the Brandenburg Gate. I knew something was up as I headed towards my new favorite running area in the Tiergarten. More than the usual number of Sunday morning cyclists whizzed past, dressed in jockey colors with numbers pinned to them.

I generally run on the sidewalk, and a few cyclists ride along on the path specifically designated for them (also on the sidewalk). Sometimes, more bikers join me on the sidewalk because there isn't room for them on the bike path. If you add confused, ambling tourists into the mix, the situation can be quite perilous. I can't tell you the number of times I have nearly been run over. And then the cyclists have the gall to glare at you - the runner - when you have been making it a point to stay off their precious path!

Well, not today. As I started from the Siegessäule, following the bikers eastward to their starting point, it hit me - now was my chance to take advantage of a rare situation! I realized that the participants in the 60K/120K Velothon had had their route cleared for them and of course, it was entirely ON THE STREET. This meant that I could potentially have the sidewalk all to myself. Sure enough, aside from the random, non-racing biker who happened along peacefully on the bike path, a few small groups of cheering spectators, and a few polizei posted along the way, the sidewalk was clear. As the first batch of elite riders flew by like a swarm of locusts, followed by successive waves of riders released from the starting point in intervals, I felt a little love for the cyclists and even wished them well. Tomorrow, though, may be another story...

Keystone Editions - Fine Art Printmaking in Kreuzberg

2010-05-30T06:10:00.009-05:00

The art of printmaking is alive and flourishing in Kreuzberg. Last night, Keystone Editions celebrated the launch of its workshop on the ground floor of a historic industrial loft building on the bank of the Landwehrkanal. The range of work on view included prints by Jim Dine and William Kentridge, by Indigenous Australian artists and Kalahari San (Bushmen) of Botswana, and by other artists from South Africa, Ireland, and Germany. [I urge you to visit the Keystone Editions web site, which is one of the best I have seen; it explains who they are and what they do much better than I could hope to. There are also wonderful photos and images of the artists and their work.]

Several artists discussed why printmaking continues to be a vital, exciting medium. The ancient machinery and processes used to create prints have not changed a great deal over time, so it is really the artists' innovation which keeps the tradition alive. Canadian artist Sarah Dudley and German artist Ulrich Kühle (master printers trained at The Tamarind Institute and founders of Keystone Editions), described some of their creative collaborations with international artists. German artist Thomas Eller, and American artist Nicholas Kashian (who has previously worked with the Keystone Founders) emphasized the relevance of the art form. Kashian recalled being fascinated by his footprints left in the snow. Perhaps we are all printmakers - whether footprints in the snow, a finger traced through a foggy window, words on a page, paint on a canvas, notes on sheet music, or graffiti on a wall, we are compelled to leave a sign that we were here.

The Room and the Chair

2010-05-29T01:11:00.006-05:00

On a quiet corner in leafy Prenzlauerberg, Cafe Hilde hosted former Washington Post journalist and Pulitzer Prize winner Lorraine Adams, who read from her latest novel, The Room and the Chair. The story takes place in Afghanistan, Iran, and Washington DC, and follows the lives of strong central female characters - Mary flies an F16 and Mabel is a Washington DC socialite and journalist who is married to a character based on Bob Woodward, with whom Adams has worked. The passages she read were compelling and I was also intrigued by her comments in the interview which followed the reading. Bookslut.com editor Jessa Crispin asked Adams why she had left journalism to write novels, to which Adams responded "...I wanted to write fiction so that I could tell the truth."

The turning point for this decision came during research for her first novel, Harbor, a story about an Algerian refugee living in America. Interviewing real Algerian refugees, she was so moved by their stories that she turned away from journalism to tell their story as she felt it should be told, outside the restrictions of a traditional newsroom. Adams said that the Internet has been a great leveler of information providers long regarded as the only legitimate sources of data (i.e. newspapers) and she advocated blogs. She expressed the hope that people would move beyond thinking in terms of non-fiction (as if only "facts" were of importance) and fiction ("made-up" stories). Novels should play a larger role in people's lives today, Adams stated, because it is often there that real truths emerge.

Henry and Virginia

2010-05-26T09:56:00.003-05:00

On one of the loveliest mornings in Christendom, I woke up and decided to go jogging. It had been a couple of weeks and though my recent major walking sprees have been great exercise, I felt the need to RUN. I headed toward the Siegessäule, which is now caged within a latticework of scaffolding until the end of the year. I am glad I saw The Victory Column last month when it could still be seen in all its glory.

The first 10-15 minutes of running for me are usually a big hurdle to overcome. One of our marathon coaches told us years ago that anyone can run a marathon - you just have to get your mind beyond the pain. And this is true. I have always hated running, and don't like it that much even now, yet I do it more for the mental rather than physical triumph I feel when I get past that first 10-15 minutes when it is so easy to give up. Once the engine warms up, though, it is another story and I can - and do - go for miles, thinking of many things or of nothing at all. Sometimes it's like a Boggle game of thoughts bouncing around up there until the words get settled.

From Siegessäule, it was a straight line towards the Brandenburg Gate 2 kilometers away. As I ran, I thought of two books I had recently finished - Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer and Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own, two books whose subject matter and authors couldn't be more outwardly different. Woolf was a staunch feminist and Miller was a misogynist, but maybe not entirely. They both lived more or less during the same years outside the States - Woolf in London and Miller in Paris. Both filled pages with wild words and fantastic imagery, both believed in living life to the fullest, and - this is what got me thinking that they were really not all that different - they were both obsessed with food and shelter. Miller was hungry for most of his life and Woolf was anything but because of a 500 pound per annum legacy. But both of them described in detail meals they had eaten or hoped to eat. And they both strongly believed that having a stable roof over their heads was essential to the creative process.

The colors were bright this morning and there was not much traffic. Just before I reached Brandenburg Gate, I had the strangest sensation and the area suddenly transformed before my eyes into the sepia-toned photo I like on one of those postcards of 1910 Berlin. Right then, all seemed right with the world, perhaps due to that bizarre visual experience or the endorphins that had kicked in by then. Six kilometers later and home again, I hoped that the exquisite weather would hold out for the rest of the day. May has been a rough month for Berliners.

Once Upon a Time

2010-05-24T12:30:00.007-05:00

Once upon a time, an American writer had the opportunity to be part of an art experience called Once Upon A Time (Campfire Stories), "...a walking and story-telling series by Heimo Lattner and guests, which [consists of] walk[ing] through the city in search of people and stories...and returning with them to the site of THE KNOT... [The] stories are collected and added to throughout the duration of The Knot in Warsaw, Berlin, and Mumbai, the three locations of The Promised City project. Relationships between the individual, the group, and the place of interaction are explored."

On the U2 train headed towards the first meeting point at Eberswalder Strasse, the writer saw for the second time in two months the man who sells Motz, the Berlin newspaper produced and distributed by homeless people. This man has trained his dog to stand at one end of the car with the paper in its mouth, while the man stands at the other and explains what the paper is. The dog drops the paper at the feet of those who buy it. Each time I've seen this guy, he makes sales.

At Eberswalder Strasse, the writer met with several other participants and three of them went ahead to take the S-Bahn to Oberspree. On this train the writer, her two companions, and other passengers were "controlled" (checked) by two plain-clothes people whose job it is to bust people for riding without tickets - the penalty is 40 Euros on the spot and they have heard all the excuses before. On the previous night, the writer told a German friend that she sometimes rides without a ticket and for the past two months, has never been checked. However, after the conversation with her German friend (who has never ridden without a ticket and was amused at the writer's cavalier attitude), a general feeling that her luck might be running out, AND the fact that it was a holiday weekend, the writer was glad she had the good sense to purchase a ticket that morning.

In all, ten people gathered at Oberspree station. The day was sunny and warm, and the group set off in good spirits, perhaps a bit unsure of what lay ahead, but not minding this. Heimo gave the group index cards and pens and instructed the participants to write thoughts as they occurred, with the only condition being that all of the thoughts should begin with the phrase "once upon a time."

The first area explored was Adlershof, a Science, Technology, and Media Park. The group wandered through the campus and saw the Max Born Institute, buildings with multi-colored Venetian blinds, others with windows that closed automatically as people approached, an enormous 1930's era wind tunnel for testing airplane engines, and even an outdoor sound installation called Air Borne. All the streets were named for famous scientists.

Immediately following this, the group came to Johannisthal, an experimental living community where the homes were made of organic and conventional building materials. Sheep grazed in an enclosed meadow, children played, gardens bloomed, and the overall effect was rather surreal. A protected nature conservancy was the neighborhood's front yard. Sign posts indicated the kinds of wildlife that could be found there - foxes, rabbits, birds, and schmetterlinge (butterflies), one of the writer's favorite German words.

From the bucolic to the industrial - the group made their way to an abandoned factory site, entering through a break in the barbed wire fence. Buildings in various stages of decay were covered in graffiti, broken glass littered the ground, and nature had begun to reclaim its territory. Exiting this area by climbing a fence at the other end of the compound, the group then made their way through another peaceful residential area along a canal and then through Königsheide, a historically significant forest, which was the site of confrontations dating back to the 1600s. Today, it is important because of its plant and animal life. The group heard a cuckoo and saw some magpies and jackdaws (kafka in Czech).

Through another neighborhood and crossing Hermanstrasse, the group entered a park with a Protestant cemetery to the south and an overgrown area to the north. The photo above was taken here. The weary group consisted of a German engineer, a German architect, a German artist, a French artist, a Greek artist, an English artist, two American artists, the Austrian artist, Heimo (who took the photo), and an American writer rather overdressed for a 20km trek.

At the end of the path was a vista that appeared to open into the sky - this was not far from the truth. When the group reached the end of the path, they stepped onto the tarmac of the Tempelhof Airfield. This historic airport was closed in October 2008, but opened again on May 8th as a park, the largest in Berlin. With thousands of skaters, joggers, walkers, runners, football players, and kite-flyers, it was one of the best uses of space the group could think of. Wunderschön! (another of the American writer's favorite German words) At the other end of the airfield was The Knot, which is where the group said its goodbyes after a most unusual and enjoyable day. [Click here for a 16-second video of a 20K walk that took six hours; it is courtesy of one of the participants who intermittently shot footage of the sky via a camera attached to his backpack.]
THE END

Angels, Boxers, and Cowboys

2010-05-23T09:31:00.005-05:00

It's great fun to have nearly an entire 24 hours filled with a wide range of activities. German language class on Friday from 9-1 was first on the agenda, followed by lunch, and then a visit to a wine shop on the other side of Viktoria-Luise Platz. I was looking for prosecco. In conversation with the owner, a Persian gentleman who has lived in Berlin for 25 years, I learned that there was an apartment available in the building. I spoke with the owner, but for a variety of reasons, I decided it would not work for me. I was invited to have a glass of prosecco (which turned out to be a shared bottle), and sat out in the sun in front of the shop, speaking German for several hours, and feeling pretty good.

I had every intention to of staying in for the evening, but a German friend called and persuaded me to accompany him to a number of art events. At Freies Museum Berlin, we saw the exhibition, Umsetzen, and met several artists who either had studios in the building or had works in the show. I particularly liked the pieces by Nicholas Kashian, Will Kempkes (I called him "The Boxer" because of his former training and because of the subject matter of some of his paintings), Marlon Wobst ("The Cowboy"), and Dae-Cheon Lee.

We went to Cafe Einstein, a Berlin institution with two outposts. There is one at Unter den Linden where politicians and economists like to congregate because of the cafe's close proximity to the German Parliament, but we went to the location just north of Nollendorfplatz which is patronized by artists and journalists. There's a great beer garden in the back and the weather was perfect.

Next on the elevated U1 train to Kreuzberg (during which we had a great overhead view of the Carnival of Cultures in full swing this weekend) to visit the Forgotten Bar Project, curated by Christian Malycha. This venue is rather unique for having different group show openings every night. Nearby, we ate a very late supper at the excellent Via He Vietnamese Restaurant.

We poked our heads into the Hotel Bar and Color TV and took a walk down Berlin's own Brick Lane before deciding on a nightcap at Würgeengel ("The Exterminating Angel"), a bar whose name was inspired by the 1962 Luis Buñuel film of the same name.

Mittwoch in Mitte

2010-05-20T13:18:00.003-05:00

To vernissage or not to vernissage? That is the question. My answer - both in New York and Berlin - is usually no. Why? I don't like crowds, I'm claustrophobic, and I couldn't possibly care less about making whatever the "scene" might be. I am much more interested in having an unobstructed look at the art, speaking to the artist(s), the gallerists, and having the place to myself. I am selfish that way.

With the exception of one event, a vernissage which I will describe later, a long-time Berliner and I spent the majority of yesterday visiting galleries whose exhibitions had been up for a little while. It helped that it was a rainy Wednesday afternoon, and so we had these places to ourselves. I can't think of a better way to spend the day. And of course, we had the obligatory pit stops for nourishment.

Our first stop was Galerie Christian Ehrentraut, a young gallerist whose current exhibition features the work of Leipzig artist, Tilo Baumgaertal. The gallery space is well-suited for his work, which is whimsical and fairy-tale like, yet has a certain menace which demands that the viewer step back and observe. Next was MMX, a non-profit, artist-run space located in a former squatter's residence on Linienstrasse. The founders are Berlin-based photographer Jonathan Gröger, New York artist Rebecca Loyche, Canadian artist Daniel Wilson, and Philip Eggersglüß. There's an eclectic mix of art here that spans the spectrum of light, audio, and video installations. Esther Schipper, further down the street, featured the work of Matti Braun, a German-based artist with a Finnish background. Braun's batik-inspired work was illuminated by a mix of UV and flouresecent light. Still on Linienstrasse, we visited Edition Suhrkamp, an art book publisher. Next, we stopped in to the 15-year-old Bongout, an alternative art venue which offers an assortment of T-shirts, photographs, and books by a range of avant-garde artists. On Brunnerstrasse, we stopped by 401 Contemporary, a gallery whose current exhibition of the work of Berlin artist Jakob Mattner and London artist Laura Buckley is an interesting inter-generational dialogue about light and dark and what lies in between.

My colleague and I needed to revive with my favorite German tradition, Kaffee und Kuchen, at Hackbarth's, a classic Berlin establishment which provided us with the perfect break which for me included cappucino and rhubarb cake with cream.

The vernissage we were invited to took place at the historic Riehmers Hofgarten in Kreuzberg. In addition to the exhibition, Creating Worlds, with the art of Isabella Gabriel Niang, we were treated to a tour of the lovely apartment/hotel complex purchased by Galway native Pat Costello.

The evening ended with a lively conversation with a couple of artists at Grill Royal, which has its own showcase of the latest art in Berlin, a ring-side view of the Spree, and sometimes a celebrity or two.

Ohne Titel (Untitled)

2010-05-16T05:10:00.001-05:00

It's been overcast, cool, and raining off and on here for about a week now, yet I hoped for a little reprieve yesterday in order to do the "Bike the Berlin Wall" tour, but it was not in the cards for me. Instead, I read (finished Fatherland and Miss Julie and started re-reading A Room of One's Own), watched some great programs on one of my favorite channels, arte.tv, and napped. A perfect Saturday afternoon. But I needed to move around after all that relaxing, so I decided to walk to the gallery opening I'd been invited to at Fridey Mickel Art Berlin! (FMAB) in Prenzlauer Berg, a 7-kilometer walk from where I live. Fridey is an American curator I met in New York last year - she has been living in Berlin since 2003.

Potsdamer Strasse becomes Leipziger Strasse just after Potsdamer Platz. [If you have seven minutes to spare, you can watch this video of someone taking a journey similar to mine, but in a car - start at 4:40. Many of the buildings I describe below are on the right-hand side of the road and are noted on the video.] You enter Leipziger Platz and right about in the middle, you step over the double row of cobblestones on the sidewalk that signifies where the Berlin Wall used to stand. Although I am not a "Berlin Wall tourist," I confess to getting a sad little thrill all the same. Heading east, there is the Bundesrat (Federal Council), then you see the Federal Ministry of Finance (formerly the Nazi Air Ministry), which has some great Socialist murals. Further along, at #16, there is the lovely, historically-protected Museum for Communications (formerly the Reich Postal Museum and the Postal Museum for the GDR), which boasts the most famous stamp in the world, The Blue Mauritius. The first time I walked by this building, I thought I was hearing things. Then I realized that speakers nestled in windows at street level were broadcasting what I think were old German radio shows.

The severe-looking Bulgarian Embassy sits at the corner of Leipziger Strasse and Mauerstrasse (Wall Street). It has a rather grim sculpture by Tchapp in front of it. Next, an incongruous sight - an outpost of the American chain, Schlotzky's Deli - appears further along the street; apparently, it is a stop on the Berlin tours because of its close proximity to Checkpoint Charlie. Unfortunately, Galerie Thomas Schulte (housed in a beautiful space on the corner of Leipziger Strasse and Charlottenstrasse) had just closed for the day, but I was able to see some of the work through the enormous windows.

Looming in the distance was the Leipziger Strasse Komplex, a housing project whose concrete-slab dwellings are enlivened by what I can only imagine was paint store overstock of a particularly unattractive shade of blue. [By the way, I have seen this color used in combination with an awful maroon color - people, these colors should never be seen by themselves in public, let alone together!] Luckily, the reconstructed Spittelkolonnaden, the spires of Nikolaikirche and Fischerinsel, and the ruins of a Franciscan monastery at the end of Klosterstrasse (Abbey Road) provided some aesthetic visual relief. I skirted the raucous Alexanderplatz and took note of GDR artist Walter Womacka's fantastic Diego Rivera-inspired mural depicting the Socialist version of the good life. This is a protected work of art and is located on the Haus des Lehrers (Teachers' Association/Home). I finally arrived at my destination in Prenzlauer Berg after walking through centuries of Berlin history, one of my favorite past-times.

Helmut Newton and Modern Times

2010-05-14T11:24:00.006-05:00

Native Berliner Helmut Newton's iconic photographs of fashion models and celebrities are instantly recognizable. Sexy blondes and brunettes with wild hair, red lips, and in various stages of undress gaze insouciantly at the camera, or gaze away entirely, or interact with others in erotically charged "scenes." June Newton said that her husband had intense, 20-minute relationships with all of his subjects, the time it took to create miniature fantasy worlds that drew out facets of a personality no other photographer was able to capture in the same way. With a minimum of fuss and lighting, Newton had the elusive gift of knowing exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

To celebrate the 10th anniversary of SUMO (the limited edition, 480-page, 35-pound Taschen publication with a custom-made stand by Philippe Starck), the Museum of Photography is showing the 394 photographs from the book through this weekend. While watching an accompanying film in which June and other subjects were interviewed (e.g. Cindy Crawford, Claudia Schiffer, Jodie Foster, and Sigourney Weaver), I began to realize why his imagery is so tantalizing. Newton knew that to create an atmosphere with the right sexual frisson, he had to incorporate not only his own fantasies but those of the model and the viewer/voyeur. The photos are a healthy mix of elegance, playfulness, and humor laced with a hint of danger. The main floor of the museum is home to a permanent collection, Helmut Newton's Private Property, which contains his personal books, letters, and photographs as well as the Newtonmobile and a replica of his working office in Monaco.

At Mies van der Rohe's Neue Nationalgalerie, the excellent current exhibition - Modern Times. The Collection. 1900-1945 - traces the timeline of these years through two world wars and art movements such as Expressionism, Cubism, Dadaism, New Objectivity, Bauhaus, and Surrealism. I especially liked Edvard Munch's classic frieze created for the lobby of the Berliner Kammerspiele Theater; Ernst Ludwig Kirchner's Potsdamer Platz; the work of George Grosz and Otto Dix; Klee and Kandinsky; the Salon-style portrait room; Emile Nolde and Max Beckmann; art by the Der Blaue Reider and Die Brucke members; and the room dedicated to the masterful work of sculptor Rudolf Belling. I found particularly moving the black-and-white reproductions that were hung in place of a number of actual paintings which had been declared Degenerate Art by the Nazis, and subsequently destroyed. On a lighter note, you can watch an early film about nightlife in Berlin at the turn of the 20th century as well as a portion of the 1936 Charlie Chaplin satire, Modern Times (for which the exhibition is named). Interestingly, many of the issues in the latter film are as relevant today as when it was first released.

On a Spree

2010-05-12T13:42:00.003-05:00

This afternoon, my German friends and I ate our way through enormous pizzas at 12 Apostel, one of the many Berlin restaurants that are nestled under the elevated Friedrichstrasse train station. A distinct vérité accompanied our meal as trains intermittently rumbled overhead.

We were disappointed at first to learn that because only three of us showed up for the Spree boat tour (a quorum of 15 was required), we had to hop another boat from Friedrichstrasse to the Jannowitzbrucke. On the way, we sailed past Museuminsel, Spree-side parks and bars complete with beach chairs, and other attractions of Mitte (the city center). Fortunately, enough people joined us at Jannowitzbrucke so that we could continue past the East Side Gallery, and under the Oberbaumbrucke Bridge all the way up to the Molecule Men (please see my previous post) before turning around and heading back towards Charlottenburg. Our guide told us about nearly every building and structure we saw - art centers housed in old warehouses, wonderful Bauhaus-style office centers and residences, the government buildings, and the many bridges we passed under.

Berlin has incorporated its considerable waterfront into the cityscape in imaginative ways that other metropoli would do well to emulate. Walking paths lining the river were actively being enjoyed by humans and canines, and trees and other plant life reinforced the vitality of the Spree. At the end of our day, I felt as though my many miles of walking Berlin streets were pleasantly complimented by a "walk" along the river.

In East Berlin

2010-05-09T13:57:00.165-05:00

I spent yesterday afternoon in Friedrichshain, a neighborhood in the former East Berlin. I wanted to do the following: see the squatter's buildings that line Rigaer Strasse; visit the Boxhagener Platz Flohmarkt; walk down the 90-meter-wide Karl-Marx-Allee (please use the volume on this link to hear the grand accompanying music); see the classical, 8-storey housing tenements - part of the 1951 National Reconstruction Program - lining both sides of the 2-kilometer boulevard leading to Alexanderplatz; check out the GDR splendor of Cafe Moskau and Kino International; visit the East Side Gallery and then cross back over the Spree into the former West Berlin via the Oberbaumbrücke, among other things, a former spy hangout. I managed to do and see all of these things and as a bonus at the end of the day, saw New York artist Jonathan Borofsky's 1999 sculpture, Molecule Men, in the Spree River.

Rigaer Strasse is lined with squatters' flats - the oldest at #78. It has been occupied for 20 years and is one of the many colorful examples on this street and some of the surrounding ones which boast DIY decorating, graffiti, political slogans, and other signs of people with anarchy on their minds. A struggle continues between the current tenants and the purchasers of the building, whose attempts to evict the squatters have been thus far unsuccessful.

As is the case with most flea markets, the vendors at the one at Boxhagener Platz offered what appeared to be (and in some cases, smelled) like flotsam and jetsam from attics, cellars, closets, drawers, cabinets, glove compartments, and pockets, hoping for the best. Loose buttons, mismatched china and glassware, pieces of gold chains, electronic gadgets that may or may not have been operational, porcelain gew-gaws, assorted tsotchke, mildewy clothing, 45s from the 70s... I was drawn to a table of what turned out to be rings that had been fashioned out of computer keys. I almost bought an old German language copy of Goethe's The Sufferings of Young Werther (Die Leiden Des Jungen Werthers), the book I am currently reading in English, as well as a German language copy of Faust. I decided, though, that my German needed to improve considerably beyond my flea-market haggling skills (we just learned numbers and some new, useful verbs in class) to tackle Goethe. A Polish poster vendor and an antique jewelry vendor's wares caught my attention, as did some nice-looking electric guitars and a mink stole in good shape. Nevertheless, I passed on all of these things.

Karl-Marx-Allee is a grand Soviet-style boulevard of classical, 8-storey housing tenements - part of the 1951 National Reconstruction Program - lining both sides of the 2-kilometer gauntlet with a view of the iconic Berliner Fernsehturm (TV tower) at the end in Alexanderplatz. Despite their rather austere facades, a number of these buildings have intricate mosaic work on the walls at the entrances which somewhat relieves the monotony. Particularly nice is the mosaic at Cafe Moskau. [If you have some time, please read this 2004 amusing blog entry about the Cafe Moskau and the surrounding environs.] I also saw a couple of interesting art galleries on this street - Wagner + Partner and Capitain Petzel.

After visiting Karl-Marx-Allee, I took the train to Ostbahnhof and there I saw some of the art that had been commissioned for the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Domino Project. Just outside the train station on Mühlenstraße is The East Side Gallery, the longest existing stretch of the Berlin Wall. In the spring of 1990, it was made considerably more beautiful by 118 artists from 21 countries who were invited to enliven the bare east side of the wall. Now 20 years later, efforts are underway to restore many of the original works which have been degraded by the elements. Still, it is impressive and quite moving.

At the southern end of the East Side Gallery is the reconstructed Neo-Gothic Oberbaumbrücke, the link between the former East and West Berlin that lies over the Spree River. While on the bridge and looking to the south, you can see the Molecule Men. These three aluminum men together weigh 45 tons and stand 30 meters high. They symbolize the three immediate districts - Kreuzberg, Treptow, and Friedrichsain. The artist Borofsky said that "[The sculpture is a reminder ...] that there are both the man and the molecules in a world of probability and the aim of all creative and intellectual traditions is to find wholeness and unity within the world."

In Potsdam

2010-05-08T14:22:00.011-05:00

Today is May 8th, the day Germany unconditionally surrendered to the Allied Forces 65 years ago. Several months later, The Big Three met at Schloss Cecilienhof in Potsdam for the last of three conferences held during and immediately after WWII. The first took place in Tehran in 1943 and the second was at Yalta in February 1945.

Potsdam is a 40-minute S-Bahn ride out of Berlin. It has been restored to its former glory after having been destroyed, like many European cities, during WWII. The presence of GDR-style architecture (as in Berlin) does not completely spoil the city's charm; in fact, I like the contrast. An example of this is in the Alte Markt, where the St. Nicholas Church is neighbors with the University of Applied Sciences - Potsdam, which I learned is to be razed. A marble obelisk that dates from 1753 was restored in 1979, and the Fortuna portal was rebuilt in 2002. The Old City Hall and the Knobelsdorff House line the east side of the square, while to the west, the former stables of the City Palace now house the Potsdam Film Museum. Slightly to the north of the square sits a large, somewhat-hidden boulder under an apple blossom tree. Embedded in this boulder is a plaque with Dr. Albert Schweitzer's thoughts on the inhumanity of forcing people to leave their homes.

After leaving the Alte Markt, I walked up Friedrich-Ebert Strasse to St. Peter and Paul Church. I then veered back to the main street and headed north towards (and then through) the Nauener Tor and then past the Russian Colony, which I looked at, but did not enter. Further along Alleestrasse, I read a plaque on house #10 which stated that Maimi von Mirsbach (celebrated as a hero by Israel) had lived there for a period of time. I then entered the Neuer Garten, at the southernmost part of the park that encompasses both the Marmorpalais and Schloss Cecilienhof. The approach to the palace is wonderful. There were not too many visitors when I arrived; I was alone for most of my audio tour and even had the room in which The Big Three met all to myself! At one point, I thought I detected the cigarette and cigar smoke of the room's former occupants and it all became a little eerie.

Back down Alleestrassee, which changes to Voltairweg, which takes you right up the side stairs to Schloss Sanssouci, the summer getaway of Prussian Frederick the Great (Frederick the II). Sans Souci means "without worries," an attitude that certainly spread to Berlin, where an atmosphere of tolerance remains today. [Side note: I know that Berlin and Los Angeles are Sister Cities, but I think it might be more appropriate if New Orleans and Berlin were linked in this way. Knowing both cities, I sense a kindred laissez-faire spirit.] I loved the 35 Rococo figures on the front of the palace (see the photos in the previous link). Their faces are all different and they all appear to be at different stages of a worry-free state, whether because of wine, the opposite sex, music, theater, etc.

I left Sanssouci, however, without visiting the inside of the palace. The entrance fees for all the different rooms were more than I wanted to spend and I was spoiled by having just viewed another palace without the burden of crowds. When I saw the lines of weary tourists heading in to some of the rooms at Sanssouci, I just couldn't bring myself to join them. Anyway, you can look at photos of the beautiful inside online, as I plan to do. I left this palace the way most people enter it and then I turned around to look up and see the terraced vineyards and steps leading up. It was breathtaking, so I'm glad I did it backwards.

I was getting a bit hungry at this point. The delicious 1 Euro rotwurst and brötchen that I have come to love and that I had had when I got off the train in the morning was only able to fuel me so far. I walked back to the center of town intending to partake in that excellent German tradition, Kaffee und Kuchen, at the famous Cafe Heider, a former meeting place for upstarts, intellectuals, jazz musicians, and at one time, the Stasi. However, before I got too far, I was lured into a nearby Trödelmarkt (Flohmarkt), a flea market next to a church that was selling children's clothing, toys, and...cakes for only 50 cents. I helped myself to a tasty piece of pound cake with chocolate and headed towards Luisenplatz, which was filled with Deutsche Rote Kreuz trucks, ambulances, and personnel. At first, I thought something terrible had happened, but then I heard music and laughing and asked one of the guys what was happening. He said they were celebrating the 20th anniversary of the German Red Cross. I said "Congratulations!" and he gave me a little packet of Bandaids.

I have to admit that I like the Brandenburg Gate in Potsdam better than the one in Berlin. Perhaps it's the pale yellow color I find pleasing, or its smaller size, or the fact that it frames the street at the end of which stands the St. Peter and Paul Kirche. Walking down Brandenburgstrasse, I had fun poking my head into many different shops, including a great used book and CD store that also offered good coffee for 1 Euro. I am a big fan of things that cost 1 Euro, especially coffee, which seems to be the only thing in Germany that is more expensive than in the States. I visited another bookstore and cracked up reading Negative Affirmations by UK cartoonist Steven Appleby and George Mole. In addition to amusing negative affirmations, the book poses questions such as "Did you know that yoga spelled backwards plus "n" spells agony? Is it really necessary that we be able to balance in such poses called "fish" and "warrior?" [Forgive me, my former yoga teachers, but I laughed pretty hard at this.]

I made my way to the Holländisches Viertel, noticing the distinctive Dutch architecture and signage. A door to one of these buildings happened to be ajar, so I looked inside and saw the characteristically steep stairways I remembered having seen in Amsterdam. Most of these buildings were either residences or businesses; however, there were three in a row that were boarded up and looked terrible. I wondered what those fixer-uppers would cost to renovate. At one time, they must have been as lovely as their neighbors and I was curious about what had led to the abandonment and disrepair of those three in particular.

Nearing the end of my pleasant walkabout, I didn't have it in me to hike all the way back to the Potsdam Hauptbahnhof. Instead I hopped onto a tram, sat down with a sigh of relief, and realized that it was the first time I had been off my feet in six hours.

"What's Bred in the Bone Will Out in the Flesh"

2010-05-07T13:18:00.002-05:00

It's an old English proverb and the first part of it, What's Bred in the Bone, is the title of a book by Canadian author Roberston Davies. I have spent ten days with this book and reluctantly finished it this afternoon.

I am certain that had I read this book when it was first published 25 years ago, I would not have appreciated it to the extent that I do now. My Master's degree in Art Business, familiarity with a little of the art world in New York and now in Berlin, plus both the film and the book, The Rape of Europa, have all given me a certain perspective.

What's Bred in the Bone is full of characters and circumstances that you have probably never encountered before and will probably never encounter again, unless you read more of the Cornish trilogy. Davies' draws literal and figurative portraits within portraits through the protagonist, Francis Cornish. The story made me cry a little, and laugh a lot. I recommend it not only for art lovers, but for people who like a tale you can sink your teeth into and spend much time reflecting upon.

Minimalism at Haus Huth in Potsdamer Platz

2010-05-05T11:57:00.001-05:00

Minimalism Germany 1960s, the current exhibition on the 4th floor of Haus Huth on 5 Alte Potsdamer Strasse, is the latest in a series that showcase art from the Daimler Art Collection. [Please click here to see Haus Huth, built in 1912 and constructed of reinforced concrete and steel, and take note that it was the ONLY structure standing on Potsdamer Platz after two world wars. Then please look at this photo, which shows Haus Huth as it is today, suffocated between the modern buildings that currently populate Potsdamer Platz and that contribute to the area's antiseptic, generic look. Exceptions of course are the inspired architecture of the Neuegalerie, the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, and the Philharmonie.] It is fitting that this particular Minimalist exhibition is displayed in a simple, stately building that was also at one time, minimal in its truest sense amidst the wasteland that was Potsdamer Platz. The Constructivist, Zero, Minimalist, and Conceptual work of artists such as Josef Albers, Norbert Kricke, Herbert Zangs, Siegfried Cremer, and 21 others (hailing from Frankfurt, Düsseldorf, Krefeld, Stuttgart, Berlin, Munich, and Switzerland) and the quiet dignity of the Haus Huth pay tribute to one another. This free exhibition runs until 30 May.

My Berlin Gallery Weekend

2010-05-03T13:23:00.008-05:00

It was busy in town for the past few days with Berlin Gallery Weekend from 30 April - 2 May. I didn't get to any of the galleries you'll see on the list, but I did see a lot of energizing art.

On Friday, I attended the opening of Phantomschaltung, fittingly situated in the former Fernmeldeamt (Telecommunications Office) of the also former GDR. Although the building has been completely repurposed to house artists' studios, rumor has it that spy equipment can still be found in the depths of the building.

There are 14 artists in this show hailing from all corners of the globe. I had the great pleasure to moderate a talk with some of the artists yesterday as part of The Berlin Collective. Stay tuned for the video if you want to see my "TV talk show host" debut. I asked the artists Nicole Cohen, Anna Mields (who brilliantly attempted to "short-circuit" me during the interview), Stefan Heinrich Ebner (aka S.H.E.), Dalila Dalléas, and Katrin Kampmann about what motivates them and about their interpretations of the principle of Phantomschaltung. Some of the other artists - Daniel Mohr, Gal.la Uriol, and Andrea Damp - were present in the audience as well.

Also on Friday, I visited Measuring Potentials, curated by Marc Glöde. In this show, 11 artists created work that correlates with the theme of using unconventional spaces like the space in which this show is situated within the developing area along Potsdamerstraße. I especially liked the work of Sandra Peters, whose slide show piece captured the theme of the exhibition nicely.

Saturday night - Atelier 5 in Moabit. A really lively gathering hosted by South African artist Christine Haberstock and Nigel Dunkley MBE. New York City ex-pat Saudia Young sang cabaret songs penned by Kurt Weill and Bertold Brecht and some of her own tunes as well. It was a great evening complete with art, music, food, drink, dogs, kids.

After my talk with the Berlin Collective yesterday, I went to the lovely loft of jgb berlin to see the work of German artist, Adrian Lohmuller, who will be featured in the Berlin Biennale this year. In conversation with some of the guests, I learned about two other interesting spaces - Die Tankstelle and the Boros Collection - the latter is housed in a former bunker. Apparently, it is possible to purchase some German structures (like this bunker) for $1. Then of course, millions are needed to renovate the place, not to mention the amount of tenacity required to maneuver through Byzantine architectural/historical regulations.

My art-filled weekend continued this afternoon with My Dirty Little Heaven, the excellent show of Kenyan artist Wangechi Mutu at the Deutsche Guggenheim. She is the recipient of the bank's Artist of Year 2010 award. The work is riveting - mixed-media collages that reminded me of some of the work of British/Nigerian artist Yinka Shonibare MBE, as well as the portraits of Mannerist artist Giuseppe Arcimboldo. I found especially compelling Mutu's charity project, Ms. Sarah's House, which just last month successfully raised funds to rebuild the house of Ms. Sarah, whose home was destroyed in the wake of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans nearly five years ago.

Beauty needs to be tempered with a little ugliness. Instead of walking back along the decidedly more pleasant Unter den Linden, I chose to walk along the parallel Behrenstrasse to nail down the nature of a building located directly behind the Russian Embassy at approximately #5. Luckily, a man was exiting this very building as I approached and I asked him (in a melange of German, Russian, Polish, and English) what it was. He told me that it is a gym for Russian diplomats. Completely unsigned or otherwise marked but for a large bas-relief of the head of Lenin, this non-descript brick structure with its creepy absence of windows (but for a few rather opaque decrepit ones) is my favorite ugly building in Berlin. Happily, I have many favorite beautiful Berlin buildings - more on those soon.

Robert Wilson's Video Portraits at Kunsthalle Koidl

2010-04-29T12:14:00.000-05:00

Robert Wilson's Video Portraits: A Collector's View is a wonderful, spare show in a wonderful spare space - a transformer center dating from 1928 which provided power to the nearby Charlottenburg S-Bahn. In 2007, the transformer center was itself transformed into a space that now showcases outstanding collections of modern and contemporary art.

Until May 2 at Kunsthalle Koidl, you can see Princess Caroline (2006) from the collection of Bernice Steinbaum. With accompanying music by Bernard Hermann (who composed music for Alfred Hitchcock's films), the video shows Princess Caroline in silhouette posed like her mother, Grace Kelly, from a scene in Hitchcock's Rear Window. It is extraordinary. I learned that Princess Caroline posed for two hours in a stationary position. On the other side of the gallery, the portrait of Chinese artist, Zhang Huan, is equally mesmerizing. Inspired by Zhang's 12 Square Meters performance, Wilson situated the artist in completely different circumstances. Here, Zhang is angelic and covered in sugar water and butterflies as he stares dreamily just beyond the viewer - an experience which was undoubtedly more pleasant than being covered in honey and fish oil (and soon, flies) while he sat in the filthiest public lavatory in a Chinese village for one hour. This video is from the collection of New Yorker Michael Weinstein and is accompanied by the ethereal music of Michael Galasso, who also composed the music for the Wong Kar-Wai film, In the Mood for Love.

Finally, from the collection of Robert Wilson's Watermill Center in upstate New York, there is Horned Frog (2006), accompanied by a Glenn Gould interpretation of Bach's Goldberg Variations. Each image of the frog is the same, but the slight variances in lighting create the appearance of nine different frogs. The croaking and the music play off of each other surprisingly well.

What do a Monegasque princess, a Chinese artist, and a bullfrog have in common? Robert Wilson's keen sense of what makes us want to capture the essence of living creatures in a portrait.

Smoke and Mirrors - Olafur Eliasson at Martin-Gropius-Bau

2010-04-28T10:22:00.009-05:00

I intentionally arrived early this morning at Martin-Gropius-Bau to avoid the crowds of people who have come to Berlin for the free events associated with Gallery Weekend, which runs from April 30 - May 2.

I treated myself to two walk-throughs of Innen Stadt Außen, a textured show by Danish-Icelandic artist, Olafur Eliasson (he did the waterfalls on New York City's East River in 2008). The experience was like walking through a delightful fun house, complete with mirrors reflecting the visitors, and a creepy, claustrophobia-inducing encounter with multi-colored smoke-filled rooms, Your blind movement (2010). There were opportunities for shadow-boxing, which both children and adults took advantage of in another series of rooms. For me, the eeriest and most uncomfortable was Model room (2003). In the center of this rather large room, people were clustered around a long, rectangular table which contained maquettes, models, and prototypes the artist and his assistants have constructed over the years. Small slide projectors were strategically placed among the clutter of objects on the table. What I noticed above all were the ghastly yellow lights that bounced around the room and made everyone - even the most attractive people - look like corpses.

I hurried out of there and into the next room to view the 10-minute film, which is also titled Innen Stadt Außen. It takes a few minutes to realize that you are looking at split screens, and then you notice that these are actually the images captured by a truck with a mirror attached to it as it drives through the streets of Berlin. The imagery is fed into a camera. Reflections, shadows, and shapes are a strong component of Eliasson's work. In addition to his pieces in the Martin-Gropius-Bau show, you can see his work scattered throughout Berlin. For me, the main question the artist posed was, "What are you really seeing?"

I then went upstairs to see Vorreiterin, an excellent show that featured the work of the 40 artists who were runners-up for the Gabriele Munter Preis 2010, which is awarded to women artists over 40. That honor went to Christiane Möbus. But the work of several other artists captured my attention more immediately and for longer periods of time. For example, Brigitte Schwacke's coiled tubes of water pumped continuously and looked like threatening snakes lying in wait to spring on unsuspecting visitors. I especially liked Berlin artist Ursula Neugebauer's 2006/2008 video Haare, in which three women - a nun, a Muslim woman, and a modern feminist - discuss the importance of hair in their lives. Should you cover it, remove it, show it off? Should you be a blonde?

Ich Spreche ein Bißchen Deutsch

2010-04-27T12:05:00.009-05:00

[I speak a little bit of German] now that I've been here in Berlin for nearly one month and have had two four-hour days of intensive German language lessons. My class could definitely be characterized as Multi Kulti (multicultural). The 20 of us hail from all corners of the globe - like me, Jonathan is American; Nino is from Georgia (the country, not the state); Szofia is from Budapest; Sayaka and Ayako are from Japan; Priya is from Mauritius; Sebahat and Guldane are from Turkey; Jeanette is from Sweden; Sara and Jorge are from Mexico City; Aissa is from Burkina Faso; Nader is from Tunisia; Nancy is from Kenya; Akosua is from South Africa; Michael is from France; Anna is from Russia; Joann is from Trinidad; and Gina is from Italy. We are having a lot of fun so far struggling to communicate in our new common language. Today in class, we actually rapped in German. I don't think I have much more to say beyond that...

...except that it made me think of last night, when I was with German friends talking, drinking champagne, eating supper, playing with the dog, and watching the excellent Berlin music channel (Deluxe?). We saw the classic video, The Message, by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five (as I told my friends, it has been declared the first official rap song), some amazing Barry White, Bronski Beat (which made the dog bark - Jimmy Somerville's falsetto was evidently a bit too high for Henry's comfort), Michael Jackson, and Duran Duran.

Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin

2010-04-24T11:13:00.003-05:00

I was looking forward to a free tour of the Staastsbibliothek zu Berlin this morning, a continuation of my obsession with Wings of Desire set locations and general love of architecture. I arrived promptly at 10:30, only to be told by the very nice librarian that the free tours are on the third Saturday of each month. I thought I had read the material properly, and I have neither jet-lag nor German language problems to blame this on at this point. In any case, the librarian took pity on my stupidity and told me to come back in 30 minutes for a quick, ten-minute tour. I arrived promptly at the agreed-upon time.

The kind librarian has worked at the library for nearly 25 years. She said that Wim Wenders and his crew filmed at night after closing time. It was wonderful to be in the space - the light, the sense of stillness. The architect Hans Scharoun designed the library as well as the Philharmonic. Scharoun's student, Edgar Wisniewski, completed the library after his mentor's death in 1972. The acoustics are wonderful - you cannot hear a sound in the library, while you can hear every sound perfectly in the Philharmonic.

The discovery of asbestos has caused a substantial portion of the library's collection - 3 million of over 10 million books, mostly modern and contemporary literature - to be declared off limits until the end of the year. Still, the library today was filled with people seeking the solace of this special place to study and reflect. You can see manuscripts of Goethe, musical scores of Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart, the Theses of Martin Luther, and a copy of the Gutenberg Bible, among many other important historical documents. When Berlin was divided, the library's holdings were also divided - the eastern portion was located at Unter den Linden 8 and the western portion at Potsdamerstrasse 33. Today, the library is considered one institution, but maintains both locations.

Some Things Cannot be Destroyed...

2010-04-23T11:45:00.003-05:00

...and one of these is the Sports Palace Bunker on Pallasstraße, due east of where I live in Berlin. Because it could not be destroyed, a rather grim apartment complex was built around it. [Please view these excellent archive photos of both the bunker and the complex. If you have time, I highly recommend reading architect Andrew Hurle's drafting project which contains a detailed description of the bunker, photos of the inside and outside, as well as views from above.]

In the DVD version of perhaps my favorite film of all - Wings of Desire - directed by Wim Wenders and filmed in Berlin in 1987, the director discusses the bunker, how they found it, and why they used it in the film. The bunker was the stage set for a WWII-era film that Peter Falk, aka Columbo, was in Berlin filming, a movie-within-a-movie. In the DVD's Special Features section, Wenders also said that the most vigorous attempt to flatten the bunker involved packing it entirely full of dynamite and setting it off; even this only managed to lift the structure a few feet off the ground.

History Lessons

2010-04-22T13:19:00.006-05:00

This afternoon, I took the U2 to Mohrenstrasse (which I thought had been one of the Geisterbahnhöfe, or "ghost stations," but I was mistaken) and headed towards Galeries Lafayette, a collection of elegant stores as posh as its counterpart in Paris. I like the John Chamberlain sculpture there. I browsed through their gourmet section which was as enticing and unaffordable as the one at KaDeWe. My real destination, however, was the Gendarmenmarkt, a fascinating square in Berlin which consists of two churches (one French, one German), the Konzerthaus, and a lovely monument dedicated to the German poet, Schiller. After climbing 206 steps to the balustrade at the top of the French Cathedral, I was rewarded with a spectacular 360 degree view of Berlin, and immediately scared out of my wits when the church bells starting ringing.

I next went to the historically important Friedrichstrasse, in front of which is a memorial to the Jewish children who had passed through this train station as part of Kindertransport (also Refugee Children Movement or "RCM'"), the name given to the rescue mission that took place nine months prior to the outbreak of World War II. Continuing along Dorotheenstrasse, named for Princess Sophia Dorothea of Prussia, I came to the Bundestag (formerly, the Reichstag), and noticed a number of white crosses on a fence opposite. This was the Weisse Kreuze Memorial, dedicated to those who were murdered while trying to escape East Berlin.

To shield myself from the the fierce wind, I decided to walk back home through the Tiergarten. I was rewarded with the sight yet again of artist Wolfgang von Schwarzenfeld working on his Global Stone Project. I cut through the park and down Stauffenbergstrasse and joined a tour bus group that had just disembarked at the German Resistance Memorial. We were standing in the very courtyard where Claus von Stauffenberg and others involved in the 20 July Plot to assassinate Hitler were executed.

Whether it's a street, platz, bridge, building, or train, you cannot avoid history here, one of many reasons I find Berlin such a compelling city.

Der April macht was er will

2010-04-22T02:09:00.003-05:00

"April does what it wants." I learned this German expression from a friend who has lived in Berlin for awhile. We were discussing yesterday's weather, which went alternatively (and quite violently) from bright sun to completely overcast to rain to a five-minute hailstorm, back to bright sun, in minutes. And the wind - it pushed me around corners and then slammed me from the other direction no matter which way I turned. Though I've lived in a number of pretty fierce climates, yesterday's weather managed to startle me. Since arriving in Berlin three weeks ago, except for 2-3 days (yesterday being one of them), we have had the loveliest weather. I was lulled into a false sense of security with the birds, sun, flowers, a la "April showers bring May flowers."

As I write this, the sun is kind of out, but I'm not sanguine that it will remain this way for long. Therefore, I will arm myself with a combination of umbrella, sunglasses, gloves, and a windbreaker as I head out to explore the city.

Recipe for "Sonntag in Berlin"

2010-04-18T11:38:00.005-05:00

Have breakfast - scrambled eggs, English muffin, coffee, and carrot juice.
Run for awhile in the Tiergarten.
Chat with an old friend who calls from Poland.
Take the U-Bahn to Charlottenburg Palace, change trains at Zoo station and get some mushroom pizza.
Arrive at Charlottenburg Schloss. Continue reading Amsterdam in the gardens under a giant old plane tree.
Think about Queen Louise of Prussia, aka "Working Mom."
Close eyes and listen to ambient sounds. Get drowsy.
Get a little covered with insects and a little too baked by the sun.
Move somewhere else in the garden.
Speak German with people.
Take the U-Bahn back to Schöneberg.
Have a glass of red wine on Viktoria-Luise Platz and finish reading book.
Listen to a roving band of musicians.

Repeat as often as necessary.

Poland

2010-04-18T02:42:00.043-05:00

The loss of Polish President Lech Kaczynski and nearly 100 others as they crashed in Russia while on their way to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the massacre in the Katyn forest has saddened the world. Here in Berlin, flowers and candles have been placed in front of the Polish Cultural Institute on Burgstraße, and in front of the Polish Embassy on Lassenstraße. The state funeral for the Polish president was held today in Krakow.

The tragedy has cast a pall over Polish cultural events taking place throughout Berlin. At Kunst-Werk Berlin Institute for Contemporary Art, the current exhibition, Early Years, gathers the work of 17 Polish artists over the building's four floors. Whether photographs, video, or acoustic pieces, the work invited interaction and reflection. On Friday, I interacted with the pieces more intensely because of the events of April 10th, and I sensed that the other visitors did, too.

Last night, I saw The Year of the Quiet Sun (1984) at Kino Arsenal, one of many venues throughout Berlin hosting the filmPOLSKA series from 15-21 April. The poignant, realistic drama about the relationship that develops between an American soldier and a Polish widow is set in the grim context of 1946 Poland, in an area that had just been part of Germany. Somber cinematography and shocking scenes of a mass grave exhumation (which paralleled the Katyn forest massacre) provided a counterpoint that only made the love story more beautiful. I was grateful for the darkened movie theater and the dark streets as I walked home from Potsdamer Platz, because my eyes were not dry.

In Schöneberg - a President, a Genius, a Blue Angel, a Thin White Duke, and Assorted Artists and Upstarts

2010-04-15T09:45:00.008-05:00

My neighborhood in Berlin - Schöneberg - has either hosted or been home to individuals as diverse as John F. Kennedy, Albert Einstein, Helmut Newton, Christopher Isherwood, Klaus Kinski, David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Marlene Dietrich, Jeffrey Eugenides (Middlesex), Rosa Luxembourg, Billy Wilder, and so many others.

After visiting Nollendorfstrasse 17, Christopher Isherwood's residence from 1929-1933, I visited the Rathaus Schöneberg to see where JFK made his famous "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech. I continued along Belzigerstrasse, home for a time to British music writer, David Rimmer, who authored the book I am currently enjoying, "Once Upon a Time in the East." At the end of Belzigerstrasse is 155 Hauptstrasse, the residence of David Bowie and Iggy Pop when Bowie was in Berlin recording some of my very favorite music of all at Hansa Studios. The director Billy Wilder (Some Like it Hot, Sunset Boulevard) lived for a time on Viktoria-Luise Platz at the end of my street. And this is only one of 12 Bezirke (districts) in Berlin!

Adult Education

2010-04-13T02:01:00.008-05:00

In September 2007, I began my Master's degree program in Art Business at Sotheby's Institute of Art in New York with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. It had been [a long time] since I had been on the other side of the desk. I had taught English and writing in Poland, Lithuania, China, Argentina, Slovakia, and in the States for about five years and was confident in my abilities as a teacher. But what about being a student again after so long? Luckily, I dug in, enjoyed myself, learned a lot, and graduated with honors last year.

Now in Berlin, I have again chosen to be a student. This time, I plan to take a 100-hour intensive German course that will meet for four hours a day/five days a week. I walked over to my local Volkhochschule yesterday for an evaluation of my language level. I observed other foreigners waiting in line who, like me, wanted to acclimate linguistically to their new environment. There were Africans, Turks, and Europeans. I chatted in Spanish with the three guys in front of me - one was from the Basque region and the other two were from Valencia. For about ten minutes, I felt great, in control - I CAN speak other languages well. At this point, however, a two-year-old child has a better command of German than I do.

These two student experiences, while seemingly in sharp contrast with one another, are really quite similar. From a Master's student to an absolute beginner in a foreign language, the goal is the same. So I will show up for class on time, take notes, do my homework, ask questions, and learn.

In Kreuzberg

2010-04-11T09:28:00.007-05:00

On the 2.5-mile walk from my neighborhood to meet my friend in Kreuzberg, I noted the following: a nascent circus (www.juxirkus.de); the occasional whiff of coal (which I happen to like and which instantly transported me to Poland, 1990); an orange metal dog poop receptacle; the Spreewald-Grundschule at Pallasstrasse 15 with its bizarre sea-green mesh wiring; a number of fruit trees blooming pink and white; sketchier parts of the city as I headed further east; lots of graffiti under the Yorck bridge train trestles (including a Banksy-esque "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil" piece, but with monkeys sitting atop one another instead of policemen - upon further investigation, Banksy's 2003/2004 Berlin graffiti tour did not include the area I was in today, so I bet that the piece was an homage to the elusive British street artist - the "Thanks, Banks!" next to the monkeys suggests this possibility); the lovely Viktoriapark; and Bergmannstrasse's colorful shops, restaurants, and coffeehouses - I met my friend at one of the most well-known of these, Barcomi's.

Like most people, my natural tendency is to compare and contrast. For example, I decided that - with the exception of the coal smell and dog poop receptacles - versions of the above elements could easily be found on New York City's Lower East Side, with a bit of the West Village thrown in for good measure. In the end, though, I decided to resist this temptation (likewise, the impulse to convert Euros to US dollars), and instead just be where I am.

TV and Radio in Berlin

2010-04-10T08:31:00.004-05:00

TV5 Monde aired the film Villa Jasmin the other night. It's a WWII drama in French with German subtitles, so I got a chance to practice (struggle through) both languages.

I also recently watched Dangerous Liaisons, The Net, and Sex and the City (SATC) here. It takes some getting used to hearing Glenn Close, John Malkovich, Michelle Pfeiffer, Jeremy Northam, Sandra Bullock, and the women from SATC speaking perfect German. For me, Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha (from SATC) somehow sound a bit more intelligent and less shrill.

I rationalize watching TV here as a way to improve my German. There are many German language stations with shows that range from silly to quite good, as shows tend to be throughout most of the world. There are also a couple of French channels as well as the ubiquitous CNN and BBC, if I crave English. I also enjoy NPR Berlin in the morning. But as much as possible, I head outdoors to hear analog versions of language on the streets of Berlin.

My Inaugural Berlin Run

2010-04-09T11:38:00.007-05:00

Despite the brisk north wind today, I went for a much-needed run. For the past three weeks, the transition from New York to Berlin has allowed little time for exercise. Although I have been walking a lot since I arrived here a week ago, it is not the same as a good, hearty run.

I did a walking mile warm-up from my neighborhood and, after crossing the Herkulesbrücke (Hercules Bridge), began to run on Klingelhoferstrasse. I passed the Bauhaus-Archiv and reached Tiergartenstraße, where the the street name changes to Hofjägerallee. I had in my sights Die Siegessäule (Victory Column), my own Rocky-esque goal. But the Berlin icon seemed to recede further away from me the more I ran towards it! The same thing happened when I trained for the DC Marathon in late 2001/early 2002. On one particular group run - our longest before the actual marathon on March 24th - we did 20 miles. As we approached our end point - the Capitol - it also seemed to recede in the distance on the Washington Mall. As I told a friend who will be participate in the Berlin Marathon in September this year, once you run one of these, there is nothing that you cannot do in life from that point on.

So I kept telling myself this, mantra-like, until I eventually reached the Victory Column. I had originally intended to continue east on Strasse des 17 Juni, the east-west axis through Berlin, to reach the Brandenberg Tor (Gate), but it was out of reach for me today. So I turned off into the Tiergarten on a footpath that promised to get me to Potsdamer Platz in 1.2 kilometers. It was not a lie and I was there soon. Running west now along Tiergartenstraße again, I heard distant church bells, which signaled to me that I'd been running for about 45 minutes. Just as I was debating about whether or not to run even more (though it hurt like hell), a beautiful hawk glided silently, directly across my path and pounced on an unlucky creature in the brush to my left. I took it as a sign that I was through for the day.

Up and Down the Ku'damm, a Zoo, and a Church

2010-04-08T10:26:00.008-05:00

The Kurfürstendamm (more colloquially known as the Ku'damm) is a historic street in Berlin, lined with high-end shops. Nearly every major city has a Ku'damm. I can personally attest to the grandeur of New York City's 5th Avenue and Madison Avenue, Chicago's Magnificent Mile (Michigan Avenue), Paris' Champs Elysees, Milan's Via Montenapoleone, London's Bond Street, Toronto's Bloor Street, Passeig de Gràcia in Barcelona, and Dubai's Mall of the Emirates (not really a street, but there aren't any strolling streets to be found there).

Of course, you would expect (and you would find) on all of these streets shops such as Chanel, Valentino, Bulgari, Hermès, Gucci, mixed in with galleries, antique shops, hotels, auction houses, and restaurants. I had a very inexpensive and delicious lunch at a Thai place, while enjoying the sun and reading (actually struggling through, but not for long - my German lessons start next week!) Der Tagesspiegel. One interesting difference I noted on Ku'damm, however, was that many of the luxury stores had set up glass vitrines out on the sidewalk to display their wares. Many had listed prices, too, thus saving embarrassment and time on the part of the potential buyer and seller, respectively. I doubt that the display case concept would work in any other city, but it works in Berlin.

After the calm and elegance of the Ku'damm, I passed by the Berlin Zoologischer Garten railway station, also known as Bahnhof Zoo ("Zoo Station"). It was raucous, rowdy, touristy, and reminded me of Times Square minus the lights. I hurried on - though not before browsing through racks of books selling for 1 Euro - towards the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. Unlike most of Berlin, which was flattened during WWII, much of the church's original jagged structure remains standing, augmented by later additions. To me, a structure like this is what makes Berlin such a fascinating city, a fusion of new with old, an example of what can emerge from near destruction.

Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

2010-04-07T13:01:00.003-05:00

I walked four miles to the former East Berlin neighborhood of Mitte today to meet an artist friend about becoming involved with the Berlin Collective, among other things. We had a delicious homemade carrot soup with ginger at Cafe Oliv and afterwards looked for shoes in this trendy, interesting part of of the city. My friend witnessed a simple mistake I made when ordering coffee here and I told her about an even bigger mistake I made the other day. I had finished my liver and onions and the waitress came by to ask (I anticipated) if I wanted anything else. What she really asked was " Was the meal tasty?" So, I said "nein, danke," responding to what I THOUGHT she said. Her face fell, I felt awful, and quickly corrected the situation amid much embarrassed laughter.

What these two events clarified for me was the importance of being able to communicate effectively in the language of the country you are in, especially if you intend to be there for awhile, as I do. I have always made it a point to learn simple words and phrases for shorter sojourns, and to invest in longer language programs for stays of 1-2 years. In this way, I have had a much richer experience. I think it's arrogant of native English speakers to expect everyone in the world to speak English. It is an unsavory relic of colonialism and further contributes to the pervasive negative perception of English-speakers by most of the world.

So today, I started the process of registering for German language classes at my nearby Volkshochschule (literally, "Public High School," but in this context, it is also a place where adult education courses are taught). There are 2-3 month programs for a reasonable fee. The center near me is named "Albert Einstein," which I hope will bode well for my future language success.

Spargel, Spargel Everywhere

2010-04-06T11:29:00.003-05:00

One of the most enjoyable things about living in different countries is the opportunity to observe how others shop for food. Whether at open markets or supermarkets (here in Berlin, we have Kaiser-Markt, Penny-Markt, Netto-Markt, and Aldi), I have always felt privileged to get this intimate glimpse into the way human beings acquire sustenance. There is also the Winterfeldtmarket, near me, which is said to be the best in Berlin. I felt triumphant upon leaving this market bags full of produce, meat, cheese, flowers, etc., knowing that I have tried (and mostly succeeded) in making myself understood to the vendors.

Having been a teacher of English as a Second/Foreign Language for a total of five years (in Argentina, China, Poland, Lithuania, and Slovakia), I know that food vocabulary is among the first things taught. This is followed quickly by words for numbers - money - to pay for the food items. Berlin's food prices are a third (or less) of New York prices as far as I can surmise. I can buy a container of yogurt for about 30 cents, for example, and a nice French roll for 15 cents. German produce is nominally priced as well. Good wines from France, Germany, Italy, and California range from around $2.00-8.00 per bottle.

Here in Berlin, I'm both brushing up on and learning new German words, some of which are quite similar to English words, while others are completely foreign. I love the word for asapargus (spargel), which is a big hit here this time of year. Especially the white kind - I found this article about the subject, which is quite interesting. I bought some white spargel today as well as the green variety (not as common here) that was folded into a veal-like cold cut. Very tasty.

Speaking of Geschmack (taste, flavor), there are many organic, "bio" products available and Germans have increasingly shown a preference for them over the years. Eggs, bread, meat, fruits, vegetables, and cheeses have a different/better flavor to me. All this talk of food has made me hungry (Ich habe Hunger!!!), so I am going to prepare something tasty and inexpensive for dinner now.

Easter Monday in Berlin

2010-04-05T12:42:00.005-05:00

My friends warned me about the dreary weather in Berlin, but since arriving here on April 1st, I have experienced only sunny, albeit cool weather...until today, that is. Armed with an umbrella, I made my way up Martin-Luther-Strasse (ML is no doubt spinning in his grave at the proliferation of strip joints that line the avenue named for him) and had a blueberry muffin and a coffee for 2 Euros at a low-key little cafe.

It is so quiet walking here (in direct contrast with New York City streets) that I could hear bicycles pedaling and even conversations from the other side of Potsdamerstrasse, which has four lanes. Either alone or with a couple of other people, I waited to cross at the intersections for the green man with the hat to light up. Even when absolutely no cars are in sight, you are supposed to halt when the red man sign is lit. What is my hurry anyway? Do I want to be gauche, to stand out here? No, I don't. I like the chance to rest and observe. Also, it is against the law to cross when the red man is lit.

It is so quiet here in fact that a sharp horn from an impatient driver startled me out of my internal monologue (a la Wings of Desire), just as I was thinking that all these Porsches, Audis, Mercedes, and BMWs are seductively soothing. Really, there are few garish traffic sounds here, except for the occasional random honk.

In Potsdamer Platz, there was a demonstration of some kind - I think it was against the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, but you wouldn't know it by looking at the banners people were carrying. These ranged from the expected Che Guevara ones to some with Hindi script to various German Workers' Parties. I saw a guy headed towards the marching group with a determined look on his face carrying a "Nein zum Kreig" banner.

My destination, though, was the Deutsche Guggenheim on Unter den Linden to see Utopia Matters: From Brotherhoods to Bauhaus. It is a concise, cohesive show featuring nine groups that lived apart from society and/or wanted to change to way people thought and lived: the Primitives, the Nazarenes, the Pre-Raphaelites, William Morris and Arts and Crafts, the Cornish Colony, the Neo-Impressionists, the De Stijl group, the Bauhaus group, and the Russian Constructivists.

Before this, though, I went upstairs in the bookshop and was very glad I did. I chatted online "Second Life"-style with Chinese artist Cao Fei, whose virtual identity is China Tracy, a resident of RMB City, her virtual Utopian world. She was born in Guangzhou, China in 1978, and has also created a physical Utopia that resembles a private room (complete with a bed) located within the museum's gift shop. The charming young man who was working in this space told me about the artist and encouraged me to talk to her. It is a highly interactive exhibition and very cool - you don't often get to speak to the artist in this fashion!

At this point, I was ready for a hearty German meal and this I found in Kaffeestube in St. Nikolaiviertal, one medieval neighborhood I rather like here. The patrons were all German and my heart was happy that I heard nothing but quiet civilized conversations and no cell phones. I even observed a table with three people, all of whom were reading books. I ate a plate full of liver with onions, potatoes, apples, and red cabbage along with a beer, and was fortified for my walk to Checkpoint Charlie. I walked through the checkpoint, didn't go to the museum, but did visit the outdoor Topographie des Terrors and what is left of the Berlin Wall in that area. I was starting to get a little depressed about it all, so I went to the nearby Martin-Gropius-Bau to see what was happening there. I will return in the future to see the Frida Kahlo exhibition and Olafur Eliasson at the end of April.

I have logged about 10 miles of walking today, so I will sign off. By the way, it is now 7:45 pm and the sun has not yet set - it finally came out!

Over the Spree, Through the Tiergarten, and Unter den Linden

2010-04-04T12:21:00.008-05:00

I have decided not to use maps too much here in Berlin. I have a general idea now of how the city is laid out and that is enough for me, especially since I've been walking (many miles) everywhere for the past few days. I've discovered quite a bit on my own, whether on purpose or by happy accident - a magnificent something or other often materializes before my very eyes. And then I say, "Wow, that's the [fill in the blank]!" Somehow, I think this element of surprise burns the place in my mind more so than if I had clutched a tourist map searching only for street names and numbers, thus potentially missing the forest for the trees. And Berlin is definitely an interesting forest.

Today, I strolled from my apartment towards the Tiergarten, enjoying the silent Easter morning streets. There were a handful of joggers, walkers, and dogs out in the forest. I noticed a lot of embassies along this road. My idea was to get to the Academy of Arts around 11 when it opened so I could see the George Grosz exhibition (free on Sundays) without too many crowds on the penultimate day of the show. One thing I noticed was that all the placards were in German. I also noticed that the visitors were all German - I'm pretty sure I was the only foreigner. Yet another thing I appreciated was that people spent time with the works; of course, there was a lot of text, political references, and intricate humor that required more than a passing glance. But I also remembered that a Sotheby's professor said that most museum-goers (in the States at least) spend about 30-60 seconds in front of an artwork, so I wondered if this was a cultural thing. Grosz's caricatures and use of color reminded me of Honoré Daumier and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec respectively. I especially liked what Grosz said in a letter to a friend about artistic success (I'm paraphrasing here): "...fame amounts to a cardboard box full of newspaper clippings that you can visit from time to time when you are overcome by nostalgia...it's really nothing more than that."

After the exhibition, I had some coffee on one of the benches that line Unter den Linden. I noticed Daimler's Cafe attached to the Mercedes showroom, where a pretty gorgeous car was featured prominently in the window. For the low price of 177, 310 Euros (basic) or 195,577 Euros (with extras), the car can be yours. It's a SLS AMG Coupe with gull-wing, DeLorean doors. Silver. Beautiful. I asked the saleswoman about a Mercedes I had seen a guy driving (complete with a racing helmet) on the street yesterday, one that was longer, like a race car, a convertible. Also beautiful. She told me that that model is one of the SLRs and that I could probably test drive one. Will keep you posted on this one - those of you who know me well know that I quite like to pilot things that move quickly, whether they be horses or cars.

Also on Unter den Linden, I visited the recently-opened Willy Brandt Foundation exhibition. I continued along the street until I reached Humboldt University, Berlin's oldest; and then the beautiful and sad Neue Wache with its Käthe Kollwitz sculpture; the Staatsoper (I am planning to see Tosca and Salome this weekend for 5-7 Euros each - yes, they are nosebleed seats, but I just want to hear the music); and then I crossed over to Museum Island (but will actually spend time in the five museums here later - I especially want to see Nefertiti); St. Marienkirche on Alexanderplatz; and the oldest church in Berlin, St. Nikolaikirche, nestled within cobblestoned streets. I saw the TV Tower, and managed to avoid getting run over by swift and silent trams, more commonly found in this area, Mitte, in the former East Berlin.

After a tasty bratwurst mit senf, I mastered a tricky S- and U-Bahn combination and made my way home. Tomorrow, the Deutsche Guggenheim is free and I will be there to see the Utopia Matters exhibition.

Berlin so far

2010-04-03T12:11:00.003-05:00

Since arriving in Berlin on April 1st, I have: enjoyed cool, sunny weather; wandered for hours on lovely streets; sipped coffee outdoors on a quiet platz; poked my head into (but have not yet properly visited) the Mies van der Rohe-designed Nationalgalerie, the Philharmonie, the Musical Instrument Museum, St. Matthew's Church, and the Staatsbibliothek (featured in Wings of Desire, one of my favorite movies of all time and one about which I have thought constantly since arriving here), all on Potsdamer Platz; wandered east where the landscape changed dramatically; thought the setting sun seen through the Brandenburg Tor (Gate) was pretty spectacular; was riveted by The Holocaust Memorial; walked through the Tiergarten to the Siegessäule (Victory Column), which is unfortunately closed to visitors for the remainder of 2010; shopped at the Winterfeldtmarket at the end of my street and brushed up on (and learned) vocabulary for fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, and numbers; eaten a rabbit with pink peppercorn sauce; replaced a plug and cord I electrocuted when I attempted to connect my iPod and JVS cradle (the former is fine, but the latter does NOT run on 240v); bought some blumen (flowers) for my dining room table and enjoyed the forsythia, pussy willows, daffodils, tulips, and azaleas that appear to be everywhere; opened a Euro bank account; thrown out every piece of garbage into its proper receptacle like a good citizen; wandered through the oldest shopping mall in Europe, KaDeWe; had an entire Margherita pizza and a glass of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo while attempting to read the daily paper, Berliner Zeitung; learned that Patti Smith will be performing in Spandau on July 5th and will try to get tickets; at times been the only female in a sea of handsome S&M-attired bald, pierced, leather-clad strapping German males; made friends with my local currywurst guy; started reading Marie Vassiltchikov's Berlin Diaries (thank you, Mary), and this is enough for 2.5 days I think. Tomorrow morning, I am going to see the George Grosz exhibition at the Academy of Arts in Pariser Platz before it closes on Monday and might then find a nice old church in which to attend Easter Mass. There are numerous options.

Bingo, Black Swans, and C***s

2010-02-28T10:34:00.002-06:00

Nassim Nicholas Taleb believes we have already won the ultimate prize out there - we are alive, all Black Swans - thanks to a remarkable combination of randomness and plucky DNA. But the vast majority of us take that prize for granted. Not content with this small miracle of life, we play games of chance and take risks. Why?

I've played a fair share of games and have won a few prizes in my time. But perhaps none was more unusual than the one I won playing Bingo last night at (le) poisson rouge. In fact, I would be willing to bet that it was the first time in history that this prize has ever been won. Hosted by drag king, Murray Hill (aka "the hardest working middle-aged man in show business") and his lovely sidekick, drag queen Linda Simpson, the dynamic duo have taken their bawdy Bingo west of The Bowery Poetry Club. Some of you may recall that I won something at one of these events last year. The two prizes don't compare.

Murray and Linda were in fine form last night, alternating between insulting each other and the audience in equal measure. An inebriated, passed-out patron had to be escorted out by security. Murray claimed this was a record - it was only 7pm and the games had just begun! Both hosts had some choice words for several listening-challenged audience members who falsely proclaimed to have Bingo - these people experienced thinly-veiled humiliating remarks throughout the course of the evening as a result of their errors. Later in the evening, Murray apologized for the "noise" coming from the room next door - the "noise" was a band playing and (le) poisson rouge is a music club. He said they were working on getting the walls soundproofed so that future Bingo games would not be thus disturbed.

Afterwards, as my friend and I headed to the E train, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. What would have happened if - Heaven forbid - I'd gotten mugged and my bag had been stolen? The thief would have been pleased with the contents of my wallet, could have had fresh breath from my mints, could potentially have had nicely-filed nails thanks to my emory board, would have had no problems with a runny nose thanks to my packet of Kleenex, no chapped lips thanks to Chapstick, and could have even benefited from the wisdom and astute insight of the thoughts in my Moleskin notebook. But most rewarding of all (especially if he'd had crayons) - my thief could have had great fun with The Cunt Coloring Book, my Bingo prize.

Berlin at the Wall - Paintings Meet Music

2010-02-26T10:35:00.008-06:00

Berlin at the Wall is an exhibition of work by German painter G.L. Gabriel. Originally shown at the DietzSpace Gallery to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, Ms. Gabriel depicts the city's transforming landscape. Incorporating Skia Photography, she starts with high-resolution photographs of large panoramic images on barite photo paper and selectively paints thin layers of color onto the images. Thus, bleak abandoned factories along the Spree River, the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate, and the demolition of the Palace of the Republic, take on an Impressionist aspect.

Now through April 22nd, Berlin at the Wall can be seen at the German Consulate General as part of Paintings Meet Music, an ongoing collaboration between Ms. Gabriel and German musician Rainer Oleak. The prolific Mr. Oleak has composed music for films and television, as well as arrangements for other musicians. For this event, he chose a choir song, a Beethoven concert, a rock concert, and atmospheric sounds which he then played on old tape recorders and mixed back in to the original composition in order to "reinforce the authentic aura." Paintings Meet Music has the artistic synergy to invigorate every sense.

Roman Polanski - The Ghost Writer

2010-02-22T12:26:00.004-06:00

Roman Polanski's latest gem, The Ghost Writer, is based on the Robert Harris book, The Ghost. This past weekend, Polanski won the Silver Bear for Best Director at the Berlin International Film Festival. In a way, the film could almost be called The Ghost Director - Polanski did much of the post-production work in Switzerland, where he has been under house arrest since September 2009. Yet Polanski's characteristic mise-en-scène is present, with the ghost of Hitchcock hovering in the background nodding his approval (I like to imagine).

The mood of the film is bleak. It is either overcast and rainy or dark and rainy throughout. The dampness even gets into your bones. The story takes place mostly on Martha's Vineyard (but was actually filmed in the north of Germany), a perfect setting for the alienation felt by the two main protagonists- a former British Prime Minister and his ghostwriter.

Then there is the music. Alexandre Desplat delivers an understated score - a true film score rather than a tedious collection of inane songs, which seems to be the default mode for most of today's film soundtracks. Desplat keeps things quiet when they need to be and then sends chills down the spine with a well-placed shriek of violins, a la Hitchcock.

Thanks to Mr. Harris and faithfully followed to the letter by Polanski, the plot is sinister yet credible. And the actors are superb: Pierce Brosnan as Adam Lang, the British Prime Minister; Ewan McGregor as the ghostwriter (he is never named in the film); Olivia Williams as Ruth Lang; Kim Cattrall (casting off SATC Samantha's shackles once and for all, we hope) as Amelia Bly, the PM's assistant; and Tom Wilkinson, Timothy Hutton, James (fka "Jim") Belushi, and Eli Wallach shine in supporting roles and cameos. What is going on here? How did the ghostwriter's predecessor really die? Who is working for whom? The story moves along with plausible (and shocking) twists that tease and reveal almost everything in their own time.

Maybe you appreciate films that don't insult your intelligence or force you to painfully suspend your disbelief for two hours. Perhaps you are a fan of Polanski and Hitchcock. If so, may I recommend The Ghost Writer.

DecoDence at South Street Seaport Museum

2010-02-19T12:02:00.005-06:00

Little, Brown, and Company creative director Mario Pulice's fascination with luxury ocean liners began when he was 12 years old. Citing his grandparents, who often traveled by ship, as an influence, he began sending away for memorabilia from a number of companies. But he fell in love with the SS Normandie, which operated for the French line Compagnie Générale Transatlantique (CGT) from 1935 - 1940. For the first time, Mr. Pulice has loaned some of his collection to the South Street Seaport Museum for its new exhibition, entitled DecoDence: Legendary Interiors and Illustrious Travellers Aboard the SS Normandie, which will be on view through January 2011.

Curated by author and maritime history authority William Miller, aka "Mr. Ocean Liner," visitors can imagine what it must have been like to be on board the finest liner of the era, perhaps even in the company of Marlene Dietrich, Cary Grant, Bob Hope, Salvador Dalí, Joseph Kennedy, Ernest Hemingway, and Josephine Baker, to name just a few of the ship's most famous passengers. The SS Normandie was France's "floating ambassador" for the best of what the country had to offer. In addition to tapestry chairs, a baby grand piano, and bronze doors, there are over 100 items including tea sets, crystal, and silver, created by the most important Art Deco names of the time - Lalique, Dupas, and Patou. Nearly everything, including toothpicks, was mongrammed "CGT" to further underscore French pride. First-class passengers received special handbags created by Hermès as well as a Jean Patou specially-mixed perfume, Normandie.

One highlight of DecoDence is a 30-minute color film made in 1939 by a CGT Paris-based employee. Discovered recently by the filmmaker's son, the film captures life aboard the SS Normandie on one of its dozens of voyages from France to New York. Seeing the elegantly-dressed passengers, exquisite suites, outdoor activities on the deck (including men playing tennis and badminton wearing suits and ties!), and dining rooms (one is pictured above) make one long for the time when people took pride in their appearance and paid attention to their surroundings. Mr. Miller told us that a typical transatlantic crossing took five days, required three complete costume changes per day, and according to Kitty Carlisle, shoes alone required several trunks.

Scenes of the liner docking at Pier 48 in New York's Chelsea area are remarkable and serve as a poignant reminder that the Pier was the ship's final resting place. The SS Normandie was in New York when Germany invaded France. The United States took control of the ship, rechristened it the USS Lafayette, and had begun transforming it into a military vessel when in 1942, the ship caught fire. To douse the flames, too much water was used and the ship capsized and sank. In 1946, the USS Lafayette was sold for scrap metal in New Jersey. Fortunately, Mr. Pulice and others passionate collectors have salvaged the glamor of what was one of the finest ships to sail the sea.

The Bitter End

2010-02-16T16:46:00.001-06:00

Some friends and I went to The Bitter End last night to experience The New York Songwriters Circle Series. According to the web site of the nearly 50-year-old music club, " for over 19 years, singer/songwriter Tina Shafer has been producing and directing the circle, producing bi-monthly shows...Showcasing artists such as Norah Jones, Jesse Harris, Lisa Loeb, Vanessa Carlton, Gavin DeGraw and Chris Barron, the circle [has become] one of the most popular music events in the city, attracting not only the best up and coming songwriting talent from around the world, but also top music industry executives looking to discover the next big thing."

We especially enjoyed the quirky, talented Nashville duo, Channing and Quinn. Channing has a gorgeous powerhouse of a voice. Her chilling refrain in their song The Vanishing Act ("I can make you disappear") provoked nervous titters of uneasy laughter in the audience, who had no doubt that she probably could.

We also enjoyed Rachael Sage, a consummate performer who we saw last April at Rockwood Music Hall on the Lower East Side.

The Bitter End has been the venue for countless entertainers including Woody Allen, Dr. John, Tori Amos, Joan Armatrading, Taj Mahal, Les Paul, Stevie Wonder, Little Feat, George Carlin, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, Odetta, Patti Smith, Etta James, and countless others.