Day 8

New York—Basel—New York

My alarm goes off at 8 am but I am awake anyway. Oatmeal with fruits to my Earl Grey this morning. With two others I leave for Studio X. The door in the 16th floor is locked but we have a great view over the sunny Hudson River. It is going to be a great day. I take some photographs with my Mamiya while I wait. White clouds in the blue sky. Helicopters flying. Our professor is doing single sessions with each of us. I think about the relationship triangle of humans, dogs and art. This triangle covers a very interesting and unexplored area. Covered with rainforest. A dog would be a good explorer. Hope it is a guiding dog. We go for coffee. I do not find my way without a dog yet. There is no point in art or the future of exhibiting if the dog community does not agree with its concept. So far the leash links us humans to the dogs but there has to be a deeper level of understanding. Something like adoption. An equal relationship. Symmetric. A lady in her late 60s is practicing dancing steps in the subway. Only she hears the music. She wears red woolen gloves. For me it is The Black Keys again. They do not bring me to the rainforest but take my mind and bring it to a small bar packed with quality. Rough and unpolished, but pure. Like a raw diamond nobody cares about working on. Today people wear warmer outfits. Months back I started wearing my few cashmere sweaters first layer. There is no point in putting a low quality shirt between your skin and the heaven of softness. Dogs do not wear an extension of their fur. No need. I think about the triangle. A dog can be a man’s best friend. Or the enemy of his body. Art can be a man’s best friend, too. Or the enemy of his mind. But what is the connection of dogs and art? And who is the enemy then? I do not know. Would it be possible for my mind to adopt a dog? Like the White Cube adopts the rainforest. Are dogs creators of symmetry? I come home to Gnocchi. The Californian red wine contains sugar, concentrated juice and artificial flavors. Pure economic asymmetry. It is already past 4 pm. I watch another hour of Louis C.K. He thinks like a dog. I go with the others to an Indian restaurant at 93 1st Avenue. It is packed and filled with cheap lights. They do not have a license so everyone brings their own wine and beer. Economic Symmetry. Then we leave back to Brooklyn. Our Air BnB host is playing with his band. They call it something like punk rock. The Hounds Basket. It is close to our apartment and for free, so we go. The Pine Wood Rock Shop is one long narrow room with a bar and a second smaller room in the back. The bands play back there. Crazy loud in front of roughly ten people. This is not a dogs nest. So it is good. But the dog stays outside. Why, I wonder? Too loud he thinks. I can not even hear my own thoughts. The dog stays in the room with the bar. Wise choice. I join. He does not care about the hunting game where people shoot with plastic rifles on a screen. He wears a leash but apparently lost his owner. Or he wears it so he does not have to explain that he is here on his own. We do not say hallo. I leave with the others for a last drink at Heavy Woods. The pine box is not my final destination. Not tonight. We come across a thing that is like an indoor landfill. A shovel excavator is moving trash around. On our way we also pass huge graffitis. Good ones. The ones with a more complex concept than just a name tag. But I do not know a thing about graffiti. I just like these visually. A dog would probably just piss on it on its way to a more important thing. But what thing is that? At Heavy Woods they play The Black Keys when we ask for them and grind black pepper in our gin tonics when we ask for that, too. I do not think about museums anymore.