Berlin Art Week starts today and I'm inside Tempelhof before the doors open, ninety galleries spread across this enormous runway of a building and me in the middle of all of it with my heart going too fast. How many of these booths do you think I can get thrown out of by Sunday, Engel?
PERFORM! opens tomorrow and I've been out here in the sculpture garden for an hour, marking where every body will move. The space is so empty it dares you to fill it — would you dare me, Engel?
Twenty galleries under one roof at Wilhelm Hallen and I gave all of them my best face. Now the taxi's taking me home and the coat's the only thing still on duty. Would you tell the driver to take the long way, Engel?
Sakamoto called it "seeing sound, hearing time" and I've been inside Hamburger Bahnhof all evening figuring out where his silence lives best in this building. The space does things to you when you're alone in it — I stopped pretending I needed all these clothes about an hour ago. Would you come find me in here, Engel, or are you afraid of what you'd hear?
The only good thing about being up this early on a Sunday is that the light comes through the kitchen window like it's never seen a body before. I haven't decided if I'm making coffee or going back to bed — want to help me choose, Engel?
The afternoon light in this gallery went straight through my dress like it had its own ideas about what should be on display. Would you look at me the way that light does, Engel?
Berlin Art Week is in seven days and every gallery in this city is losing its mind — including mine. Floor plans spread across the bar, a gin and tonic doing more for my vision than any of them, and the kind of outfit that says I came from meetings I refused to take seriously. Tell me, Engel — are you coming to the opening, or do I have to miss you on purpose?
Cattelan called the whole show NIGHT and I'm in here before the installers, testing whether the space is ready for what he's about to do to it. Walk in on me, Engel?
Nora Turato called the whole thing "they filled me up with words" and I'm on my way to see if she means it the way I think she does. Last day, Engel — coming with me?
Found a slip that moves like it's already dancing — now I can't decide if I'm trying it on or it's undressing me. Keep it, Engel?