Liebe Meinen Kumpels

I realize this blog as gone completely off the boil, but I been so busy becoming a Berliner ("Ich bin ein Berliner" to quote JFK) I've scarcely had time to check email, much less maintain a blog. Who reads these things anyway? In addition, it was time for the perennial purge of my spring "datebook", the time when those friends who have revealed themselves as anything but must be cleansed from the email contact list. I don't these erstwhile friends poking their snouts in my business...

To be honest, said purge was the result of a personal identity crisis in my art and life which has been a slight blow to my self esteem, I won't go into it here, but I do vow to bounce back bigger and better than ever, my mojo rising...it'll be "Me Mark II." I have found great solace in the Berlin art scene, not least from an exhibit at the Hamburger Banhof by Joseph Beuys. Beuys based his life's work on a theory of Creative Capital, which is a democratic viewpoint stating that everyone has the capacity within themselves to create, it's a matter of tapping into that creative energy and life force. It may sound a bit Oprah when I put it into non-academic terms, but I find it to be a very optimistic, non-elitist take on art. So often in the past I have found myself paralyzed in front of a computer because writing is something that "other people" do. I guess the best thing for me rather than sitting around waiting for my muse or for some extrinsic force to swoop down and infuse me with confidence is to simply write without thinking about it. The truth is in there, and how else can one get at and begin sucking on the marrow underneath than by revealing the most embarrassing, mundane or painful incidences in one's life? Only by dint of painful, messy birth can the sublime be achieved.