2014-11-16

Man – Half-Food – Round Wood

Full title:
Man Holding Half-Eaten Traditional Italian Cuisine Resting Upon a Circular Piece of Wood

Probably to be known as the seminal piece in my body of work, it is a display of the pervasive need of the human species, as a whole, to gorge upon delicious, italian, flat food. Served on wood.
2014-11-16

Honey, man?

Walked around near Nollendorferplatz in Berlin one day and saw this man selling honey. He sat very still, seemed to just observe what was going on around him. I didn’t realise it before writing this now, but there was a calmness to him, like he had this little bubble of stillness around him. Next time I see him I will buy some of his honey in the hopes that it contains some of that stillness.
2014-11-10

Jungle Kids

Kids will be kids, right? And we – the woman to be the mother of my child(ren) and I – agree that kids should grow up in the forest, in the woods, on the mountains, in the fields, along the rivers, at the coast (she is a bit less enthusiastic about the magnificient, overpowering and ancient, magnetic presence of the Ocean than I am) etcetera. As long as Nature is involved and there is a certain danger of damage to the frail bones of the next generation we feel like we’ll be good parents.

What does not kill you makes you stronger. What kills you makes the rest of your species stronger.

Some kids however, do not have the fortune to be at the mercy of the elements of nature. They are given over to the elements of concrete, exhaust, oilslicks and the fire that burns up the soul of city people.

These are such kids. Kids of a different jungle than mine.
2014-11-05

An Attempt at Pasta

Since I got a pasta-making-robot-device for my birthday this year – because I just could not shut the f up about the great homemade pasta we had at the Willner Brauerei Berlin Biergarten this summer, where tiny Italian kids struggled to rotate the swiwel to get the pasta through the machine – I had to go for it and prove that my lack of Italian blood in my veins – the only Italian quality I posess is exaggerated gesticulation – would not hinder me in creating pasta of a better quality than the dried up shrivels you guy at the store.

I am proud to report that the experiment ended in two full, satisfied, very content bellies, and the tongues enjoyed the pasta too. Of course, during the process of making the pasta itself the eggs spilled out of their flour crater onto the table and I frantically tried to scoop it back in while at the same time kneading it into an acceptable consistency, and a fair bit of dough in various stages of solidity ended up on the floor which had to be cleaned twice in the midst of the process. But it was worth it.

I certainly hope it gets easier with time.

Update from 2nd and 3rd attempt: It does not easier. In fact, it gets harder. Beginners luck the first time, apparently. Pasta is a harsh mistress. A harsh, but very floppy, sticky, fickle, delicate mistress.
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