„Die Ausstellung The Idle Wheel auf einer Dachterasse mitten in Athen ging eine merkwürdige Symbiose mit ihrer Umgebung ein. Das expressionistische Stadtbild sollte sich in den Exponaten wiederspiegeln. Ich habe den Reiz dieser kaputten Stadt irgendwie zu verstehen versucht.“
Light comes from the street. It is shining along the table, the things on the table, the chairs around and on the floor. The plant is a shadow. Streets are empty of people. Only cars. Black. Yellow. Orange. Brown. Something. Dripping Air conditioning systems. Flickering blue shining window. Cables hanging, coming out of walls. Damaged pavement. Harsh noise from one or two streets away.
Zone B is closed. Tents around the police station marking the border. One drunken guy on the street coming towards me. I push the lock. Car makes a lock down sound. Yards. Fences. Barbwires.
The barkeeper is asking me what I want. “Manhatten maybe?”, “Good choice! Bad destination!”, “Jus joking”. I am feeling like a prostitute in a movie now. Older men and one couple are sitting with me there. I´ll get a second one.
The housekeeper is waiting at the door. „Someone ´s tried to break into the house!“. „They didn’t make it. Its hard to get in the main door but they tried it from the basment!“ I cannot believe it. Its hard to get in at the main door? Impossible. The mechanism looks so easy. A steel wire and i´d make it.
Again, people standing in front of the garage. „Close the door please, they shouldn´t see that we are living here.“ Second built in floor in the room. I am sitting next to the bed where a friend is lying. Stuff everywhere. Some in position, some random. The window is half oval, the glass is green. It is not possible to see through. Only shapes from the outside. It doesn’t fit the original size of the frame and it´s fixed with silicone.
On the first floor my friend has pinned a sentence on the wall. It is crafted from aluminum foil and it says: Yjnmk ths he is wolsung.
