Then Berlin. The cold, the gray. A different kind of chapel. I walked into its veins, its cellars, its wet electric nights. Philosophy by day, skin by night — I tattooed symbols onto strangers as if I could carve meaning into flesh.
I paint. Because I don’t know how else to survive the image.
My studio is in Weißensee now. A dog, a wife, a few ghosts.
Greece calls in the winter, with olives and bones and the blinding white that forgives nothing.
This project — INFLUENCE: Objekt of Desire — is not a work.
It’s the hunger that remains when the miracle doesn’t come.
The Birds · θαυμάζειν
Forme-di-vita I
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A small edition. Six paintings. One empty point.