I regret I could not take more pictures of Prague but I was afraid they just would not convey the experience. They could not. On my last night I was taken out for some excellent beer and traditional czech food. I just wanted to undress and dive into the sweet savory sauce and cuddle up to the most perfectly soft dumplings I can remember. The meat was also as I remembered, sort of dry but a nice contrast to the lusciousness. The beer was particularly good, though it could also have been the ambience. It was hot as pancakes but we quickly forgot about that as the liters slipped down our happy necks.
(top: my place in Prague, bottom: the Alchymists Museum where I usually sipped my first beer of the day)
I found my way to the train the next day and arrived in Bavaria around 16:00. Immediately when we crossed the Czech/German border soldiers appeared in dark fatigues (more officially dressed than the Prague police who milled about in polo shirts) with even darker dogs in tow. They closed the windows on a stifling day. But it was fine, good, danke. Just (much) more precise and organized. I think it's a point of national pride.
Reading. I learned of a well known Austrian writer, Peter Handke and I am totally in love. I'm reading his Lesson of Mont Sainte-Victoire. There is this word HEIMAT a particularly German sense of connectedness to place-nation-Nature and also this idea of transient dwelling, something I can understand with my recent nomadic tendencies. It's something like when we walk through nature, we feel, or I've felt, most connected while in motion. Other ideas include a transnational age in relation to the natural and socio-cultural environment, and a global belonging. Germany can be problematic as/if it attaches itself to nationalism. But I feel this tendency can be tragic for any cultural group. Nationalism destroys opportunities for empathy and unity. How tragic to have your history exiled by a man or a movement of such great evil (I can see parallels between the US South and Germany's own horror). It makes me think that the ground, the earth is like a mirror. Not that Nature is a reflection of us. Humans. That would be giving us too much credit. It's more like we are reflected in Nature, along with all other earth inhabitants. No matter how well we cover up, pave over, clear cut, renature, the powdered remains of our ancestors, of us will be evidence of our true nature. "Poets lie," Nature does not.
"I breathed the fragrance of the trees and thought: Forever." Peter Handke
(written in pencil while sitting at a picnic table in a biergarten beside the Naab River)
The bathroom at the park is like a rocket ship or something really crazy like that. Poorly worded, let me describe it: First when you enter the toilet automatically flushes. All the fixtures are stainless steel and gleaming. The sink is mostly embedded in the wall. Water senses your hands and comes down cold. Essentially you come out of the water closet refreshed. Never happens in Park porto-potties. OM... no.
Hot again today. Riding around on a green + magenta ladies bike. People are nice here. Just as I was thinking I should not drink beer in the afternoon I found myself doing so. There are biergartens every 100 meters!
Once I get back to the studio, light lunch and coffee and then what are a few things I can do?
~Email Renee, Dave, Sarah about Podcast with date requests ~finish/work on raccoon portraits and listen to Hyperobjects. ~Order paper ~Finish PH (Peter Handke)
I'm seeing drawings (as part of) a set interweaved w/actual landscape footage, english and german words about home, nation, ecology.... + me dancing, moving, speaking... to be actualized as a video. (I've found a native german speaker who is also an actress and resident here who has volunteered to speak the german for me. Excited about another voice.)
Bruce Springsteen "I'm on Fire" (playing on the biergarten radio)
...one of my favorites of his, next to "Born to be Wild". Music makes me think of Him. Handke is not Him (rather) I am imitating how he used: Her, She. At first not naming her felt wrong but now it feels more complicated, more nuanced, more real. Sometimes I think my work is like physical-digital-performance book report.
John Denver "Country Roads"
Home~ land~ transient Dwelling
JD sure had some sweet tremolo.
Why do I exist on the edge of tears? Tears of ecstasy, joy, sorrow, empathy? It's been so long, not long, 4-3-5 years now. It's a fullness, pours over. It's just more than I can Keep. So I let some go.
Chocolates melting, gotta jet.
(top-bottom: german-american spirits are basically $2 cheaper here (hmm?), the River Naab, some local nihilism, my studio (and me!), inside studio, german motorhome... seriously (even just the tires are awesome), outside studio.