Home is the place you left

Antti Hiljá posted some pictures of our first Berlin home on his blog. That dude has amazing pictures just filling up his harddrive but he doesn't use his flickr so you'll just have to wait until he finishes his photo portfolio.

Yesterday I started reading this Elmgreen & Dragset book that Maria gave me. I like the title of it because I can turn it around 1000 times in my head and I'm till not sure if I agree with it or do I like it. The book seems pretty good too. It's basically an art exhibition catalog with different artists speaking about their notions of (emotional) homelessness and belonging and stuff. Not all the texs are very good but I find it reassuring and inspiring, as I often feel I am a visual artist with an obsession to write who shies away from showing writing. Now that was a bad sentence but I let it go.

Approaching 2010

I would imagine it as a room in an old factory. In the other room I can hear people making noise. The noise comes from making labor. I am in my own room. But it's not "my room" as in I don't own it, I am just borrowing it from someone. There is a table in the middle of the room. Glue stains on it. Leftovers from someone elses work. I work on the table sometimes myself. After I work, I clean up the table so when I come back next day I will find it nice and neat and I can start off with Fresh thoughts. But I find myself not returning to the room for many days. I take long walks and I enjoy them. I sometimes talk to people. I take pictures with my celphone of things like a mint colored blanket with cat figures thinking I will show it to my friends who like cats more than I do. When I return to the room I have a lot of trouble remembering why I actually keep the table there. I spend a lot of time doing other things. I clean the room again. Someone has been in the room and left something on the table. I take a look. I find it strange and nice that somebody was here while I was gone.

Parco ad by Eiko Ishioka, Balthus, still via Heavy Puff