An art shop, a flea market, both within five minutes walk, a Kaiser food supermarket next door, the tram at the corner, two different U-Bahn underground stations within ten minutes walk or one tram ride, and cafes and restaurants galore, this Milchhof is definitely a des res. The front door lock is a problem though. During the night there was a big crashing sound. It might have been the wind that was so fierce that it picked up chairs and a wooden bar counter in the side yard smashing them down into a heap. Then again it could have been someone trying to get in, or out, because the next day the front door could not be opened. I was standing there facing up to this just as my friend of a friend in London; Tom was arriving on his bicycle. At that moment, as it seems to happen here, a solution appeared in the large masterful German form of the sculptor Mark. Just back from his month away, about to form a band in his ground floor studio he quickly took charge. I was to use the basement entrance, where Marcus, another sculptor, had a studio, down with the central heating plant. So that solved, we went to a café and talked about being in Berlin in English.
Jules Olitski American Colour Field Painter died last night, Sunday 04 February 2007. Those paintings were beautiful and influential. I first saw reproductions of them in Time magazine when it was news that Olitski was making stained paintings with the edges, (the edges!), being the focal point. That was his breakthrough and later on his all-over sprays of colour. Today artists are still remaking and recreating his breakthroughs, although not with his originality.
Days pass quickly with so many choices of things to accomplish and things to explore. Some times there is so much to do in the studio that I don't get out at all, yet other times I'm out so much at museums and looking around, that I can't get done what I'd planned. The advantage of a computer is that you give it a task and it does it full-stop, (or crashes), but humans, and I like to think, especially artists, go off on tangents because so many possibilities lie at each stage. That way madness lies, one might say, but using some sort of discipline, interesting possibilities creep in. Working steadily on a drawing, I found myself dancing around the studio. It must be the weather, so bright and mild now that is making me less hermit-like and ready to make some contacts. Having emailed an artist who lives in Berlin, friend of a friend in London, and arranged to meet for a coffee tomorrow afternoon, I'm looking forward to an insider's viewpoint.
A great bright dry day, I rolled up my sleeves and got stuck in drawing. That's the way I like to work, before breakfast, before getting dressed, before getting up in a way, so that the night's thoughts are still with me. Because of the deadline for the cleaner, I did stop and shower just before ten, but it breaks the rhythm. Coming back, the mood is more stepped back. Looking critically at what I've done makes me rip up a couple of sheets and wreck another by overcorrecting. At least I finally have the feeling that I might be starting to work properly. Outside influences are a funny thing because it is only afterwards that one sees what they are. Working all day like that was great, but I popped a toffee in my mouth about five pm and you guessed it. With the very first chew I lost a filling. Aaaargh. What a nuisance. What do I do now? My first instinct is to do nothing and carry on until I get back to London even though that is ten weeks away. I'll have to see how bad it gets. It may be slightly throbbing already or is that my hypochondria? After that I went out and bought some more pencils at the art shop. Since I haven't spoken to anyone for so long that I found I'd lost my voice and just a tiny croak came out. Well I'm going to the dogs I must say. Getting on the M1 tram to go to the organic shop, blow me down but a car ran into the tram and we all had to get out and walk. As far as could be discerned, no one was much hurt but the front of the car was smashed in and would have to be towed away. That is so weird because the roads are very quiet with never much traffic on them and the trams run on fixed rails. Bicycles, cars, people; everything has to give way. They are implacable and have to be obeyed. Evidently being run over by a tram killed Gaudi the genius architect. Not paying attention, I guess, like the driver tonight. Boiled potatoes, cheese, a banana for supper for me, nothing chewy
