052021: I Need a Camera to My Eye

Photo of a black notebook

Sitting on the train back home to Berlin, after a week at my parent’s home: the idea of my own pillow, my own coffee machine, my own trip to the super market makes me cherish the fact that I am a grown-up; that I only slip into the child’s role for a couple of days a year. I am very thankful for having a family that I can visit over the holidays—we do not argue about politics or vaccines or the Christmas menu. But I am also thankful that I have a life of my own, a life I can design the way I please. That fact that I can do things differently.

As the cities pass by the train window, I flip through my phone’s camera roll. The past year felt longer than usual; whatever happened in the beginning of 2021 appears to be two, three years ago. What is left of it? My brain can’t slice the year up into months anymore, everything gets blurry, and a couple of snapshots throughout the year help to cluster moments and events and ups and downs. What is a good way to make sense of your personal past? I have a messy way of keeping track of life: During the year I switch between various notebooks and note-taking apps, write lists and memories, organize a digital calendar, but everything is all over the place and hard to delve through. As a visual thinker, my camera roll really is the one place that keeps everything connected: A quick glimpse into the past that holds feelings, places, and faces. I wish I’d be less awkward in taking pictures—after all, they’re my extended memory. The smartphone itself doesn’t make me a cyborg; the camera roll does.

Then again: I am still a hopeless romantic when it comes to hand-writing, diaries and notebooks. For 2022, I bought a thick daily calendar, with the great intention to jot down one or two thoughts every day. Inward and outward looking, getting closer to what happens, finding my own language for everyday life, and making it my own.

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

2021 wrapped: I designed a poster for Berlinale Talents. Together with Gabriel, I published a small fun book. I’ve been to the sea side, and I walked on the frozen canal. I lived off orange cake and ravioli and fancy lemonades. I wrote a lot less than I wanted, but my blog is alive and well—I still wish we would all go back to blogging and ditch Instagram and its lousy companions. I discovered great new music; just recently: Haruomi Hosono and Gilligan Moss. I read 16 books, and wrote four columns for form design magazine.

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

As for 2022: All will continue. Make it yours as much as you can. Another year, another round, make it count.

(If you enjoy content like this: I send it out as an irregular newsletter called Christel’s Corner. Sign up for it here.)

Weihnachten in Luke Edward Halls Cottage

Wer bisher noch nicht in wohlig-warmer Weihnachtsstimmung ist, dem sollte spätestens mit diesem Video geholfen sein: Im Portrait von House & Garden UK zeigen die Künstler und Designer Luke Edward Hall und Duncan Campbell ihr englisches Cottage, das sie ganz nach dem Motto More is More eingerichtet und inszeniert haben. Nicht nur die tollen Wandfarben, die unfassbare Menge an Möbeln, die vielen kleinen witzigen Objekte und der Baumschmuck haben es mir angetan; vor allem Luke Edward Halls Kleidung ist mein absolutes Fashion Goal für 2022 and beyond. Es lohnt sich auch, durch seine Website und seinen Instagram Kanal zu scrollen. Viel Vergnügen!

30

I remember how big of a deal it was when I turned 20—the end of being a teenager, the end of carefree childhood, basically, the end of everything. Society lures us into thinking that whenever we change decades, everything is over; turning 30 means getting old, turning 40 means getting older, turning 50, and so on. But I’m not having it. Not this year. My 20s were the full package; I’ve had wild times and sick times and sad times and joyful times—it was all in there.

Sure, I have moments when I think: This is it? Will it go on like this? Am I moving fast enough? These thoughts always lead me to the scene in Miranda July’s movie The Future, where the main character Sophie and her boyfriend Jason want to adopt an old cat. The vet says: “If he bonds with you, he can easily hang on five years.” “We’ll be 40 in five years.” “40 is basically 50, and then …” “… That’s it for us!” They start to reprioritize things; get rid of the internet, try to find their purpose in life. We all do that, all the time, right? I’m not going to just start now. I’m already in the middle of it. And 30, that’s certainly not the end of it.

I drew this drawing when I turned 20. I lived in Nottingham at the time, was about to finish my design studies and was genuinely excited for what’s to come. I just updated it now as I turn 30. On we go.

November halt

Ich laufe morgens am Kanal entlang Nun ist es also so weit Sämtliche Farben haben die Stadt verlassen und Berlin bleibt als graues Scheusal zurück Die machen’s richtig, denke ich mir Jedes Jahr aufs Neue stellen sich hier alle, die zurückbleiben, die Frage Warum tun wir uns das an Aber die Antwort ist leider sehr simpel Wir stecken hier fest

von leuchten

wenn du haben verloren den selbst dich vertrauenen als einen
schreibenen; wenn du haben verloren den vertrauenen in den eigenen
kreativitäten, wenn du haben verloren den methoden, den techniken
zu richten den lebendigen und den toten; wenn du haben verloren
den zusammensetzen von worten zu satzen; wenn du haben verloren
den worten überhaupten, sämtlichen worten, du haben
nicht einen einzigen worten mehr: dann du vielleicht
werden anfangen leuchten, zeigen in nachten den pfaden
denen hyänenen, du fosforeszierenen aasen!

Ernst Jandl: von leuchten, gefunden bei @clemensetz

042021: I Am at War with My Time

Portrait of Cate Blanchett

© 2015 Julian Rosefeldt, “Manifesto”

I am standing in front of a photograph of Cate Blanchett; a film still by Julian Rosefeldt’s “Manifesto” video installation. The portrait is huge, Cate’s cold gaze is staring at me. Underneath it, in small serif letters, the sentence: “I am at war with my time.”

Rosefeldt borrowed that sentence from artist and architect Lebbeus Woods, who wrote it in 1993. Originally, that sentence was only introducing a long list of things he was at war with: “I am at war with my time, with history, with all authority that resides in fixed and frightened forms.”

Battles. I often find myself residing in fixed and frightened forms, incapable of moving forward, weighed down by fear, uncertainty and an annoyingly low level of self-esteem. I am at war with my time, as in: it always feels like it’s running out; I need to do more, faster, better, louder; my work needs to be more precise, more recognizable, more in general; even my personality needs to be more decisive, more sharpened, more consistent.

To get out of that sword fight, Autumn is a great month to start reflecting the year. What has happened so far? What was achieved, what was done for the first, what for the last time? Which battles were won, which were lost? I sat down at my desk, wrote a list of all the projects I’ve finished this year. I rated them by categories like ‘Fun’, ‘Pride’, ‘Revenue’. Luckily, most cards showed a positive score, and the ones that didn’t were already archived. I’ve learned my lessons, let’s move on.

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

Sculptures. Summer was so full of work that I was grateful for a month off, visiting a handful of art museums around Germany. I saw Cate Blanchett’s portrait, but I also really enjoyed looking at sculptures by Hans Arp in Hannover and the œuvre of Beuys in Bonn. I saw the two Gutenberg bibles (the oldest books printed with movable type) in Mainz and I stumbled upon a long-lost book about dreams in an antique book shop in Heidelberg. I drew some drawings of the cities I visited and posted them on Instagram.

Slow Mornings. Back at my desk, I enjoy taking some slow time to get my head started in the mornings. Just me and my notebook. Austin Kleon’s demonstration of his slow use of the Pentel Brush pen—a pen I really love as well—was a great inspiration for that ritual.

Music. Black Marble released a new album, Fast Idol, which is just as perfect as their 2019 release Bigger Than Life. I’ve also been listening to a lot of DJ Sabrina The Teenage DJ, to Red Hearse, and to German rapper Haiyti. And to my annoying neighbor with their most recent passion: The bagpipe.

A Personal Note. My friend Gabriel Yoran and I worked on a small book that will be published on November 9th. I am very excited about it! “Warum heißt es Traum und nicht Memoryschaum” (“Why is it called dream and not memory foam”) is a collection of playful (German) language twists, which I illustrated. The book is published by the great Frohmann Verlag, and you can pre-order it directly there or at your favorite book store. It makes a great gift for people who love language and drawings.

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

I am at war with my time. It’s my birthday soon, another decade hits; and I recently found an old (now private) blog post from October 2011: “What my life will be like in 10 years”. It was a fantasy about me being super independent, living in my own nice space in the middle of Berlin, surrounded by great people. With some distance, I realize that lots of these 10-year-old wishes turned true, and some things happened I couldn’t even dream of back then. Maybe the long run isn’t always that important. As Woods wrote in his manifesto: “I know only moments, and lifetimes that are as moments, and forms that appear with infinite strength, then ‘melt into air’.” Choose your battles wisely.

(If you enjoy content like this: I send it out as a (irregular) monthly newsletter called Christel’s Corner. Sign up for it here.)

Warum heißt es Traum und nicht Memoryschaum?


Buchcover mit dem Titel Warum heißt es Traum und nicht Memoryschaum von Gabriel Yoran und Christoph Rauscher

Warum heißt es Partnerbörse und nicht Bezirzamt? Warum heißt es Formel 1 und nicht Kunstrasen? Warum heißt es Zeitgefühl und nicht Uhrzeigersinn? Warum heißen die Dinge eigentlich, wie sie heißen? Mein Freund Gabriel Yoran ist Experte (!) darin, Begrifflichkeiten auf die Waagschale zu legen und zu eruieren, wie sie denn eigentlich noch heißen könnten. Was als unterhaltsames Twitterformat anfing (und seinen Lauf nahm), haben wir nun zu einem kleinen, schönen Buch gemacht. Einige seiner über hundert Wortwendungen habe ich illustriert, und ab jetzt könnt ihr es im Frohmann Verlag vorbestellen (es erscheint im November). Der Klappentext:

Gabriel Yoran rüttelt an Ausdrücken und Redewendungen, bis der Sinn herausfällt. Zusammen mit Christoph Rauschers charmanten Tuschezeichnungen fragt dieses Buch: Könnte nicht alles auch ganz anders heißen? Über hundert Fragen an alle, die Spaß an gesellschaftlich unbedenklicher Sprachverdrehung haben.

Das Buch erscheint nicht ohne Grund im Frohmann Verlag: Mit der Reihe Kleine Formen widmet sich Christiane Frohmann textlichen Phänomenen der Netzkultur. Gabriel hat bereits seine Ausprachehilfen dort veröffentlicht, und ich bin sehr stolz, dass wir dort nun auch einen gemeinsamen Titel vorweisen können!

In den letzten Jahren setzt sich die lange Geschichte der kleinen Formen auch im Netz fort: Aphorismen oder Witze bekommen neue, zeitgemäße Inhalte; früher in privaten Tagebüchern oder Briefen niedergeschriebene Alltags- und Augenblicksbeobachtungen werden instantan gemacht und im digitalen Resonanzraum veröffentlicht.

Das Netz vergisst nichts, aber es verbirgt vieles, wenn man nicht weiß, dass man danach suchen muss. Deshalb werden in der Frohmann-Reihe Kleine Formen besonders schöne und eigensinnige Kürzesttexte aus dem digitalen Flow herausgelöst und als schön gestaltetes Buch im guten Sinne festgehalten.

Das Buch ist ein super Geschenk für alle, die Spaß an Sprache und witzigen Illustrationen haben, und eignet sich hervorragend als Weihnachtsgeschenk. Jetzt vorbestellen!