And she is lonely as I walk in the early
Morning hours through the past. Many of the buildings,
Where people live were built a hundred years ago. I’m thinking to
Myself: every family has a secret, which can later turn into a curse.
Though they keep trying to wake her, Berlin sleeps. She produces
Nothing but dreams shaped like apost card that reads: I wish you
Last night Yosh banged our table to his delight.
This morning, with another friend, I walked
Into a café and banged the counter. Everyone
Looked up but I didn’t know what to say.
German workers speak loudly.
They berliner proudly. They speak loudly
For fear no one will hear them.
And no one does.
This morning there’s a blackbird hopping
On the street as I pass. He has a crust of bread
In his beak as if he was blessed. But I’m thinking
Of the child we never had. I search for a name and
Wonder which you would prefer, sunrise or moonbeam?
You say, Samuel.
It’s an evening summer wind which accompanies us home.
I say to the woman I love: watch me mount the wind.
It’s an old trick I learned in school. Really, I say, it’s just a
State of mind. She smiles and laughs, but I’ve already
Spread my wings.
I’m getting ready for a line or two and when it kicks in
What was far away looks close up now or the other way
Around. The plugs in the socket, cats in the box, don’t
Forget to take the dog out stoned or not.
When people use the word love they mean a lot
Of different things. I wonder if love is one of them?
I miss you dressed in Russian boots
Waiting by the railroad track for the first train
To get on. You’re leaving town unknown, no one
Knows you’re gone, headed for another land
With a few pennies in your hand. You wouldn’t
Get far, but far enough to remember the train ride
In your heart.
Everything’s allright even if it’s not.
I’m not going to add anything up or
Separate this from that. I learn slowly
Patience though it breaks my heart.
Today I wonder why, what is close
Looks sometimes so far away, and if
This life is just a dream. I can’t really say.
Don’t know if the question is right anyway.
You probably know more of what I mean,
Having seen my naked thoughts tattoed
On my arms.
I can’t remember anymore how you walked
Into my life and took the space right before
My eyes. I didn’t see it coming but sometimes
I’m blind. What before looked like nothing now
Looks like love.
Born 30.09.1942 Washington D.C., USA
2017 KAHN Gallery, Salzburg
2015 Edith Jacobson Institute, with Ferenc Yadi
2008 Gallery Art-Dego, Berlin, Germany (solo)
2008 Gallery Flohr, Mallorca, Spain (with John Illsley and Karl Renz)
2005 Sala espositiva Concezio Rosa, Castelli, Italy (solo)
2005 Galerie Rodolfo, Berlin (group)
2001 Origin Gallery, Dublin, Irland (with John Illsley)
2000 Residency at Cill Rialaig Artists Retreat, Co Kerry, Ireland
1994 Galerie Andrea, Schopfheim, Germany (solo)
1988 Max-Planck-Insitut, Berlin, Germany (solo)
1987 Gallery Novi, Belgrad, Serbia (solo)
1986 Kutscherhaus, Berlin, Germany (with Ferenz Yadi)
1985 Galerie Schlieper, Neustadt, Germany (with Ferenz Yadi)
1984 America Haus, Berlin, Germany (group)
Your style is your style, Raphael and very personal it is. I turned the picture up side down,
but I don’t think you would ever do that. I’m trying to say that i look to a painting in a
way you simply don’t. You’re a secret landscape painter I’d say, not treating the surface of
the canvas as a neutral space, your paintings have an Earth and a Heaven.
That is what I see and maybe you do not. Your style is your style and the artist is always
right in his own world. The dark (black?) spot is a novelty. I ask immediately “why is it on the edge?”
Maybe I should not tell you, as this won’t help you. Anything I say won’t help you.
I talk from a complete different world, Raphael.
— Albert Blitz