--Index--
Starting into the new year sober, tired and full of nose snot. Couldn't be much better I guess.
It's the middle of the week, trying to get going as usual. Trying to celebrate the small things.
L. said this year is going to be even better than the last one. I couldn't help but hear a tone of
sarcasm in her voice which I am sure wasn't really there. But honestly, things have been going quite well all in all.
Like amazingly well. I just gotta keep it in mind.
Project notes:
- beware of tumblr
- beware of pathetic stuff
- beware of trying to be cool
- have fun
Calm down! There are enough "p"s for everyone. I am Master X. and I grant you free use of the "p" and in fact every other consonant. Just don’t get greedy. Try using one word with "p" at a time, like "pumper" for eksembel. But don't pump it out. Keep it soft and quiet, and if you get the feeling that all the little X.'s have gotten used to the "p", you may prolongue – try "pumperlumper" – but remember it sounds more like "lomba", don’t forget. In the end, the little X.'s will endure a whole hand full of "p"s thrown right into their faces. Seriously, it’s great fun.
xx
Dreamed about blog entries.
Dreamed about L.
Dreamed about T.
Stomach noises as if fighting something. Don't know what it needs.
I hope that ... I hope time passes quickly, at the same time I hope to find endlessness in time and not to want to push the present away.
*
Good day of b. And feeling ... Even through all this tension and uncertainty, there is good energy in and around.
... Telephone customer service said that my birthday is not March 22nd, and that I sound like a scammer. Couldn't cancel.
Show evaluations; we ate soup and fell asleep.
Hang-out and more food. Read HH's text together and I thought about changing my diary style; so here we are.
I can hear someone singing in the toilet.
*
Tax office is about to "investigate" because they think I'm a rich girl living abroad. I wish.
One more m.down. ... Isn't it funny after all? (regulate, clean, work!)
Work s. Body t. and telling me that my knees hurt. I think it's imagination though.
Bureaucracy reflections. I cannot live under so much pressure all the time. So as usual: one thing at a time and stay consistent.
Yesterday library/moving stuff with X. Then leg workout, risky with knee pain. Apartment cleaning. Met X. and knee pain disappeared. He had moved the couches, so we lay down and watched T. threatening with tariffs. Now at Danish. T. and a bit b.
Signed up for danish test, fixed tax office shit, produced and delivered Rundgang work, phone call, sangha, gym. Knee pain + karma talk.
Reading a book I don't understand. Cool jackets. Cozy morning. More reading. Less knee pain, then more knee pain.
This girl in the locker room was grinding on insta while I got naked and ready to work out. Came back after 45 min, she was still there I think. Sat down on my bottle, kicked it to the ground and gave zero fucks. Felt like she was in a trance.
I hope... + X. said...
New ways -> Autofictionalization, book stories, building works upon works
Full-on m. and t. of pretending not to b. What is worth more, aimining for p. or s.? How can I stand up for myself without being driven by anger or hatred?
New sim card just came. Also chillest day with X. yesterday. I am feeling charged for V.
How can I stand up for myself without being driven by anger or hatred? When is it worth to s. and p., and when does that steal away my dignity?
Imagine... space to exist authentically...
Had a strange feeling. I am s. to go to V. and s. of these three long months; feeling guilty even.
Eating up. But X. said I always have my little bubble wherever I go, and that's true! I can sit and read and write and think for four days now.
KM
V. is good so far. I went to see some shows at S.platz when I came, then ate food at t&c with J. and K. We saw N.'s exhibition at MK, and it was absolutely stunning. Everything she says is everything she does.
Met A. and we talked... Worried that I'm gonna have to pay for the shit-floors I painted. But I have to store this away for now; it's gonna be half a year of not-knowing. Did't sleep so much tonight because of this, and because of... But now I am proud, I feel like my own best friend.
Cold apartment, have to get sick when I get home.
...I cannot breathe. I feel like the swampe I've been reading about...
KBG was very sad yesterday. Nobody there, then the darkness and the dry cold... I am not used to a city of this size anymore, and I am glad.
We cooked food with K. and J. It was nice...
I read so much now, and it is already late. I will try to stay in my bubble until the party I think.
Good day in the city and hanging out with C. The party was nice, maybe a bit too crowded. I have an urge to know more, participate... But I need to remember to actually make some art, lol
Happy to be back home!
Exhausting day of travelling. Had a nice t., she kind of asked me to , even though I won't get closure. Think it's happening somehow.
+ off...
...
P.P.S. Nice conversation with C. about our relationship to the place K. It's about how to grow apart.
Thinking of all the things that are left to do. So much to do... So little time.
Was super tired yesterday after it took us so long to get home from the airport; but I didn't get sick yet, which is amazing.
Thinking ugly tattoos, pretty frames, lack of money. Thinking tax. Thinking more money.
Commodification/communication
Excited about going further!
*
Work was work. Quickly thought how easy it would be to make money by X. Then thought about X. Then thought why not make money with art. ? I am once again restless and not so restful in X. either. I gotta check some things from the list now and then take a hot shower; then sleep.
Last day of school. X. hugged me and I was slightly irritated. As usual. (Addendum: not irritated, but confused. I never knew about the negative connotation behind the term. I think it's everywhere. Whoops)
X. that resulted from being tired and disappointed and exhausted. I need to find time and peace soon, can't go on like this anymore.
Jelly cake print in frame
Hierarchy cake
Plinth + photo of plinth
Cake-slice in a frame
Painting of The Narrator
Fußbild
Hausbild framed
Waschlappen
*
Thinking about b., kinda. Not much has even happened today, yet still I feel like I can't X. Also the cold is physically exhausting.
Makes every errand physically painful. And it'll only get worse from now. But I have to go on, and one day I will wake up and thank myself for not X.
Times will get better again!
Slept at X.'s and had a day of working while watching Lost. Went to the gym that's close. I am horrified to go out in this weather. Next week felt temperature is going to drop to minus eighteen degrees. I'm not gonna move my ass one more centimeter than necessary.
Notion of a series of micro-exhibitions. Maybe a kind of "court" situation that wants to prove who is right. Like a contest. I could X. and ... Or make a link for my blog.
Saw "Daddy Issues" with A., then we went to B. bar. Good times.
Have to find d. and y. again, have to stop thinking so badly about my life. Have to take time for myself.
Work. Before that D. and a bit of sitting down with my stuff.
After work I came home and sat on the floor to sort through the materials i've produced in the past year. For a moment I felt like I used to back then in L, this freedom
of not having to work and walking around your room all night to make art and enjoy life.
I think that's something I have to get back.
Amazing day so far. Youtube content + drawings. I am so happy for these moments. Going to work now, then X. will come and X.
:O)
(P.) p. X. and I had a long conversation yesterday... I am X...
Thinking about writing LD for something. I don't know what, I just feel like it would be so epic to hang out.
Also thinking C. application and day's stress.
Feeling better this morning. Slept as long as possible and now I'm... Yesterday evening was also nice...
T. was postponed and I am not sure whether that's good or whether I would have... In a way I just want to get it over with. In another way I am scared of being alone with my X.
P.S. this nostalgia about my time in X, about my attempts to become what I saw... The fear of seeing... The fear that I am still not X, and that people will find out that I am a t.
IG show was amazing. (Except for the money works they were a bit off.)
PAAAAA. So strange that this is becoming a thing again. Maybe I've become to comfortable in... mmm
... As I went home to pack my luggage, my flight got cancelled. Let's see if I can get the next one, or if I'll only be there tomorrow.
Anyhow I'm feeling good.
Danced a lot at R. party. There were many people I was happy to see. J, K, I, L, S, C, P... And M. We had... and today... ... .
Not sure what it is... fire-
Fabrics of F scent
Sculpt them from dream space
L starts when
D becomes a theory
Read Sandman until 2am; woke up tired. Talked to P. and started watching "Die Deutschen".
Soon I will go back to F. and see D. and look at the works, finally.
*
We looked. It looked good. Somehow as if people are waiting for a direction to go to. Like nobody really knows what's supposed to come next.
Strange feelings around...
I need to hold on to urgency.
PL
Let the feelings pass.
Make up. Buying new stuff. Buying nothing ever again.
My own c. exhibited at my Diploma show.
...,
Es ist null Uhr siebzehn am elften zweiten zweitausendsechsundzwanzig. Ich sitze am Esstisch meiner Eltern, ein ovaler, schwarz lackierter Holztisch mit Chrombeinen. Draußen ist es dunkel, so richtig dunkel, wie man es wegen der Stadt gar nicht mehr kennt. Nur eine Straßenlaterne bescheint das, was sie umhüllt, also einen großen nassen Nebel oder fast keinen Regen. Ich weiß es nicht, habe seit zwei Tagen nicht das Haus verlassen und auch jetzt kein Interesse, dem Wetter auf den Grund zu gehen.
Ich habe verkackt, dir auf deine Nachricht zu antworten, die ja so lieb war und mich so gefreut hat. Auf der Party am Freitag habe ich dich zwei-, dreimal gesehen, bevor ich dir gewunken habe, und in der Zwischenzeit schnell gelesen, was du eigentlich geschrieben hattest, weil ich mich geschämt habe, dass ich immer so kacke im Antworten bin. Kurz dachte ich, dir aus dem Weg zu gehen, das fand ich dann aber so richtig dumm, weil ich mich ja eigentlich voll gefreut habe, dass du da warst.
Unsere Begegnung hat mich sehr zum Nachdenken gebracht. Sowohl aufgrund dessen, was du mir gesagt und geschrieben hast, aber auch wegen unserem Umgang miteinander an diesem Abend, und auch einfach weil du mich mit deiner Art schon des Öfteren zum Nachdenken gebracht hast. Vielleicht handeln wir das kurz von hinten ab; ich denke eben an diese Art von dir, diese Offenheit, die mich gelegentlich in Verlegenheit bringt, und dass ich mich dann frage warum eigentlich und mir dann denke, da geht es irgendwie um Verletzlichkeit, und ich mir dann sogar manchmal denke, dass diese Offenheit wie ein Protest wirkt dem Verstellen gegenüber, und ich mir dann wiederum denke ich kenne dich ja gar nicht so weit, dass ich das irgendwie beurteilen könnte, und dann denke ich mir wie nervig es sein kann wenn man einfach so ist, wie man ist, und andere da irgendwas reininterpretieren. Daraufhin muss ich aber zurückwerfen, was du gesagt hast mit der parasozialen Beziehung, die du durch das Lesen dieses Blogs zu mir aufgebaut hast. Das ist so schon verrückt für mich zu hören, wird dann aber noch verrückter wenn ich mir überlege, dass unsere Begegnung auf der Tanzfläche diese parasoziale Beziehung ja irgendwie wieder zurechtgerückt haben muss, weil sie für mich so sozial und beziehungsweise war, aber das kann ich eben nur für mich sagen, denn obwohl wir uns schon lange kennen und vielleicht sogar mehr übereinander wissen, als die andere Person kontrollieren könnte, kenne ich dich eben doch nicht gut genug, um wirklich vermuten zu können, wie du das siehst. Insofern ist meine Beziehung zu dir ja vielleicht auch ein bisschen parasozial, oder fiktional, oder wie gesagt nun geradegerückt und absolut und unzweifelhaft real.
Es war seltsam, dich auf der Party zu sehen, weil du zu einem Teil meines Lebens gehörst, den ich nur sporadisch für kurze Momente betrete, sonst aber behutsam der Vergangenheit zuschreibe. Wir waren beide nur Gäste an diesem Ort und sind jetzt schon wieder ganz woanders. Und doch war da ein Gefühl von Zuhause in dieser Fremde, nicht wegen der Nebelmaschine oder wegen Rihanna, aber wegen der Vergangenheit, die da plötzlich wieder zugänglich war und wegen dir, die Teil dessen ist, dieser Erinnerung die kurz so echt ist, und nun noch eine mehr geworden ist. Danke, und alles Gute dir, besonders diese Woche, und bis bald, sicherlich.
L. painting history and devotion...
Devotion yes, but I do believe that you can devote yourself in different ways, or to different things at least. Devote yourself to the market and sell your i., devote yourself to the scene and become a b., devote yourself to the work and dissolve; disappear.
F. S. and all this s. and f. B., fuck instagram. I can be proud to make coffee for other people. Rather this than s... Choose dignity, devotion. Choose the work.
About my diploma:
- a video of my own d.
- a work named ...
- K. R.
Much work since I came back. Heavy weekend, but next week I want to chill more and get stuff done.
I am optimistic!
FMA - site tour
Home Page
if... Raw version
000_ggg
Fiary? Sept 15 2025
Full Object Archive
Testament -> "I will be dead anyway"
YWV NS still
untitled 2020
23_10_22
Sent in my study application, now I can't stop thinking about my own death.
If I have the chance I would like to make some kind of memorial video for the people in my life, and I would like to curate a service/exhibition. Wooden B., pink lilies and my plinth. Some artworks on the walls. I bet X. would be up for it.
Cannot figure out what to write. I am repelled by the idea of providing some kind of truth. Feels like I just have nothing to say. X. said it doesn't need to be about that; but it's hard for me to get out of it. Maybe I've been reading too many books. I wonder what I would do if this work wasn't directed specifically towards ... Maybe I would have no troubles at all finding what to write. Or maybe I wouldn't write anything. Maybe the other stuff is what it's about for me atm.
So I kept being told to dream. That making art is pulling the dreams from your head and giving them form. But what are these dreams I have? Where did they go?
- little a. in c.
- s. on c.
- w.
- m.
- a., alone and with others
- x.
- having a little job
- having very little e.
- being with my s. practice
- f.
- living h.
I think that's a good place to start.
M: shifting between concentration and just sitting. I felt today that something has changed; that I understand it more.
Also thinking it might be a good idea to accept j. Tough thought, scary. But I wanna...
X. said this thing about dreaming that I keep thinking about. D...
Good news and the old stuff. Smell flower, blow candle. A single lily opened in front of my window. Things are good, choices are too. Still looking for the ultimate thing to do. Still looking for a fight from time to time.
Getting caught without a bus ticket made me introduce a new challenge. I have a good feeling. Pumping up with Earl Grey and baked oats now. D. said I'm good. Get new profession soon...
Perfect saturday so far. Long sleep and c., discussions about c., c., no c., tv and some chillzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Been drinking enormous amounts of sparkling water. Working at a wrestling event tonight. Let's see how that goes. I am curious to move out of this place for some months, like new perspective and all. I want things to go further now, however that looks.
Remembering my childhood fantasies of a practice. I think I always wanted it to feel whole, as if every work is part of a big universe until eventually, that universe would equal my life. I might be making that up, but somehow I believe I thought that way. M. said I always wanted to be an artist. At some point I knew I had always been and would never cease to be. But these days I'm not so sure anymore. Starting to get tired of having to call myself this word, it almost feels like a slur, as if calling myself a name is the only thing that's keeping me attached to the ground I walk on. I wonder if any of them will ever disappear; the feeling or the word.
Exhibition and dinner at turning chicken. Pre-party. Sleepless night (not what you think) and sleepy morning. Arms and legs in the air.
Finished this book I've been wanting to read for 12 years (as far as I can for now). Tea in bed, and a few goodbye-tears. Despite that I feel the bubble you said I can always rest in, the bubble meaning my breath, my body, my desires I carry with me until they are all gone at once. I thank for them, and I thank you.
...
My first week back was mostly forceful scrubbing motions, X.'s whistling lungs in the morning, a cold breeze inside, familiar faces welcoming me back, and a series of somehow saved emotions climbing along my nervous system, making me, well, nervous.
Now I am back back, and getting off the train I could immediately feel a heavy weight disappearing from my shoulders. It's strange, this hatred towards a place, the understanding that some memories I apparently just kept there, didn't want to be confronted with anymore, but still kept hidden inside. At this point I must say I am not too interested in digging deeper anymore. I am happy to be happy (happier, as an uncomfortably large amount of people have been pointing out to me recently; hinting that it must have looked worse than I thought.) There was something important today, and something important is going to be tomorrow. Ten minutes of trying my very best, then no more control over anything. I feel good hoping for the best. Furthermore I feel the sun on my skin, a bird whistling something like bee-boo-boo-beep in a high tone. I hear more boo-boo-beeps coming from the kitchen, I hear people talking on the street in languages I don't understand, I breathe in and it smells a bit foul (we forgot to take care of the flower bed), two seagulls landing on a roof, I breathe in, garlic coming from the kitchen, I breathe in again, apparently I breathed out.
Things are good, maybe 2027 will be introduced with a white background then, or maybe a dirty pink 'cause it's my favourite colour.
Performance yesterday and then a full day of binge-watching Lars von Trier and taking half-naps. I slept 11 hours and woke up with a strange sensation of boredom. Waiting has never been my strength. I guess I could consider this good training, giving all control away. If you see it from that side 😜
Back back back. Silence and reading on silence. Helicopters are flying around this morning. No more silence. A busy day and clear structure; Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... I think I can keep my promise.
Ich sage es passt so
Vegan beef cup noodles, artificial enamel toothpaste, refined perfume, refined technique, covering that drop of spilled paint by painting over it. Got everything I wanted for a week. Wrong form RDL, shoulders up, to the back, then down. Setting up. Waiting to go home. Home is coming to see me now. Have to get going. 25 degrees outside. Left the window open all day, the flies found their way in and are now circling around the ceiling lamp in the middle of the room. Google AI calls it territorial, mating display. Or else confusion. Huh.
Ambivalences: text-based work and illegibility, ephemerality and the urge to hold on, decommodification and all this stuff here...
We booked another ticket for X. to stay longer. When the exam was over, 15 people were standing in front of the door, waiting for me with flowers. I didn't expect anything like this, and it made me so happy.
This one comment on N.'s insistence on giving the work the space it needs, and that this was probably the most valuable thing I learned in all these years. Saying this made me sweat, and her too, I think.
Anyway, there is this huge bouquet in the sink with flowers from all my friends. At the party I behaved like I usually do at parties, walking around quietly without destination, not really knowing where to put myself. Would have liked to celebrate with X. In the meantime, the weather has become kind of unbearable. Not possible to go out during the day, or be productive really, which draws the day late into the night, but long sleep of course also impossible in this heat. But the energy is up. 13 days to let go of everything and fuck off. In between that: work, books, training, practice, and hopefully a conversation or two.
And hey, I am a fucking Magistra now. I really don't get how it came to this. It feels a bit like cheating, that I didn't put in work to actually learn anything real like the other Masters. That it's useless in a way. I know, it's not that easy, but still, what the hell am I gonna do now that I have become a Master. I didn't master shit until now. Let's see. Also why put mint on a bread??
Another day of doing exactly what's on the list. My second last t.s. Crazy heat throughout the day. The cakes have become completely moldy by now, so I renewed them. When I lifted the rotten mass from off the platform, a strange gel had developed underneath, almost like vaseline. The new cakes are fat and fluffy, slippery in a way, and more prall than the ones before. Perfect for showing the Rektor.
I found grandma's old plate and am happy to take it with me. I also had a nice conversation with C. and answered some text messages. I am trying to get back into my routines, as in practice, hobbies, social life. Step by step, every day. Crossing points from my little list. Structure brings me so unbelievably much joy. I love structure so, so much.
Spent all day executing, researching and thinking about my new hobby. Strange with being a hobby person. I don't like when art feels like an obligation. I think I like it more when I myself cannot grasp the intention of the work. I wanna leave V. now in a different way; to get rid of my art-related appointments and go home watching youtube videos while drawing for half an hour or so. Like take it chill. I can do all of that again very soon. But for now I will immerse myself in my newly found hobby, trying to think as little about art as possible for a few days. (Although then of course, it's always there somehow.)
The exhibition is reaching one point of exhaustion after the other. Glue melting, cakes rotting, flies covering the works. Not that I hate it, not at all; in this scenario, care for the work feels like the utmost form of dedication, maybe ultimately resulting in the dissolution of ambivalence. But points of exhaustion are appearing everywhere in the city. Fighting your physical limits to go from one place to another, sleepless nights and restless bodies on the street. 221 hours, then I can be pissed about the cold C. wind again.
Another goodbye yesterday night.
Had my first bad M. session this morning. I left confused and overwhelmed, which is, I've been told, very normal in the beginning. But I feel that this is also usually the point where I lose motivation for things. So I promised myself to keep going for now.
Despite the heat, I managed to do a lot of stuff in the apartment today. For some reason I don't think I've mentioned this here before. Or, I mean... Anyway, right now I'm sitting in the palace eating a bun with unsweetened peanut butter and a vegan Nuss-Nougat-Creme. Had a talk with X. earlier, which reminded me to give all the energy I have these days. Many more goodbyes to come, and the peak of this heatwave, but in the end, every time I cross a point from my to-do list, it fills me with pride.
Got reminded of this banger aquarium/diorama that L. and I built in first grade. I still remember how we painted it in turquoise and used shiny silver foil to hang fish inside. I wanna do another one.
Back in my old structures. The sun is shining beautifully through my curtains. P. and J. were here on vacation. We all had dinner together and it was lovely. I have been moving back into my old room, finding new vegan stuff in the supermarket, eating jelly-dried oats with X. and going to this new b. place. Today I will go back to work.
Been working the past week. Trying to get back into what I used to do. And updating old relations. Friday was F. opening; it was great to see so many people again, and hear what they have been up to. Can't help but... Conversation on a chair. Can't help but... Found a bit of groove. Watched Twilight (again ugh). Tomorrow we'll go to a summer house. Water and maybe some trees.
Make time to sit with it also
Making time to sit with it all. Dreaming of old wallpapers and red hair these days.
Vivid dreams in X. X. bed. Of becoming a firefighter, of good music, good sentences.
Language learning and identity... I miss being someone, miss being precise in that very literal way. I read that in this language, precision is not necessarily missing, but transported through other things like context and tonality (or so). I'm just still very far away from that, and that blank space is making me feel ach whatever. Most of the time it's funny and exciting, I mean communication is so fulfilling to think about for me, but sometimes it just gets exhausting, because there is still not a single situation where my language is enough, is correct, without blanks. I am just craving so bad this moment of resting in words, when they just flow out, for better or worse. And furthermore there's this urge to protest against the correct way of saying something. I am raised in another way of speaking and I don't wanna give that up, wanna transfer it onto this new language, don't just wanna speak a new language but wanna make it my own. You know?
My teacher is showing us an apartment with a free room I could rent. It's very close by my own place, a high building surrounded by a big courtyard. As we walk in, we pass an abandoned apartment on the ground floor that is in the process of either rotting or being torn down. I know this apartment from other dreams, have been inside it so many times, and I get a warm feeling.
Upstairs, we open the door and walk directly into the living room. It's a bougie place full of couches, carpets, plants and small buddha statues. I try to reach X. to help me decide. Then my potential roommates come in: two girls and one guy, all of them quite young. They seem to be close with each other. I look into the first room, a relatively small bedroom with an old white wooden closet in the corner, but it has a large empty room on the side that could be used as a studio. I think about the price, 2000, no, 3000, but maybe that's worth it. We go past the dim yellow-lighted hallway and look into another room with the same structure. Then the kitchen: a super messy, dark and narrow place with a metal sink and fridge. Two roommates are eating curry with kangaroo meat. A huge red iron pot with a soft-cooked torso, way too big for the pan, bathing in an orange sauce. The sauce is spread across the stove, the little table in the corner and the walls. The girl offers a plate to me, and as she is talking, she mindlessly sticks a spatula into the meat, easily cutting it into smaller parts, as if there is no resistance left in the body. But behind the kitchen is another one, also a narrow dim room but stacked with clean ingredients. I am relieved as we go past. Maybe we see a third bedroom.
I am still considering if it's worth moving away from my secure room situation. The cleanliness, the independence.
As we reach the end of the hallway, we are greeted with sunlight. We walk through a door and step into a small pvc-covered area. The person that is supposed to move out is painting there. Drops of colour are covering the floor. A little bit further to the left is another living room, sparsely furnished with a grey couch and a white closet. We step further into the hall and see two large areas with working desks, something like a studio. In front is a large lass door that opens to a big yard. To the right another bedroom, this one has three mattresses lying on the floor. A latter leads to a white wooden mezzanine.
I look out the window and see that the kitchen windows have been barred with wooden panels. There would be light if they wanted it.
Trying out something new these days while reading through the old stuff.