the blue curtain #7
or: the joy of art and peaches
I came to realize this: The true joy of summer isn’t found in strawberries or raspberries, but in peaches. Just look at their color—the flesh swirling in shades of orange, red, and pink, with a soft, pale layer just beneath the skin, like a secret waiting to be discovered. I think I savored my last good one yesterday. Summer is slipping away—I can feel it. This morning, I smelled autumn in the air for the first time.
My summer, though, was quite the adventure. I swam in pools, lakes, rivers, and the ocean. I published my first article in The Guardian. I traveled by bus and boat. I ate plenty of peaches. I finished my novel. I soaked up the Aegean heat so much that now, I can't wait to put on a sweater and enjoy more “indoor” things—like concerts, cinema, and art exhibitions.
A few fabulous shows have already opened, and here are some personal highlights:
Gropius Bau in Berlin is launching its new season with Rirkrit Tiravanija’s exhibition “DAS GLÜCK IST NICHT IMMER LUSTIG” (Happiness Is Not Always Fun). For over thirty years, Tiravanija has redefined exhibition spaces, creating environments where people can eat, drink, play, and relax. This show reflects his long-standing relationship with Germany and displays a mix of paper works, sculptures, photographs, and rare Super 8 films, with something happening every day. If you stop by on a Monday at 13:00, you can enjoy a bowl of soup.
At the Yapı Kredi Culture Centre in Istanbul, the new exhibition is called “States of the Earth”. It brings together 11 contemporary artists whose works revolve around ecology. Judy Chicago is among them, as well as Gözde Mimiko Türkkan, who is presenting a new video installation with footage from the recent Paralympics in Paris.
Chantal Akerman has arrived in Paris at Jeu de Paume, and Creatures Of Comfort are on display at the gorgeous OMM in Eskişehir.
If you happen to be in New York or Stockholm, don’t miss Kasia Fudakowski at Gaa Gallery and Josef Jägnefält at Saskia Neuman Gallery.
Fine Humans. Seven Questions.
This interview column welcomes a new guest: Jenny Schlenzka.
Jenny was born in Berlin (surrounded by breakdancing and graffiti) and is a curator known for her bold approach to contemporary art. She took on the role of Director at Gropius Bau in September 2023. Before returning to Germany, she spent two decades in New York, where she transformed the iconic Performance Space New York into a vibrant playground for cutting-edge artists and immersive experiences. Jenny also made waves at MoMA PS1 with her groundbreaking "Sunday Sessions" and played a key role in redefining performance art at the Museum of Modern Art.
Now, she’s poised to make waves in Berlin. I had the opportunity to ask her a few questions.
What similarities do you see between being a waitress and being a museum director?
In both jobs you have to stay composed and friendly in high stress situations. I earned my living waiting tables for the first few years in New York. I remember as a waitress, when the restaurant got really busy and I would enter a kind of autopilot mode to keep up. I definitely experience similar moments as a director, where I have to navigate high-pressure situations almost instinctively.
What is the best advice for negotiating?
Know what you want, why you want it, and what your non-negotiables are. With everything else you can and should be flexible.
What do artists need the most?
Trust, freedom, and someone who strokes their egos, which comes easy to me, because I adore artists.
Which art world phrase or expression can you no longer stand?
It's not necessarily one phrase that bothers me, but I’ve grown really allergic to wall texts that interpret artworks for the viewer/reader.
Can you share an image of an artwork that represents your current state of mind?
Hmmm, I think time based art is much more suitable for conveying the full complexity and movement of the human mind than images. I don’t listen to a lot of classical music but when I hear Bach I often think that this is the closest anyone has ever come to representing what we call the mind. If you absolutely need an image I love watching the great experimental dancer and choreographer Steve Paxton, who passed earlier this year, improvising to Glenn Gould’s Goldberg Variations.
What is a proper word to use when talking about art at an opening?
When attending an opening, I don't always feel the need to discuss the art. I’m comfortable simply being present and soaking it all in. That said, I make it a point not to speak negatively about the art at an opening. If I find the art truly unappealing, I prefer to simply leave. It's a matter of respect.
If you want to treat yourself, what do you do?
I love massages. Good ones.
The Novel
I’ve actually finished my novel. It’s set to be released next spring, and I’m both excited and nervous. The night I wrote the final sentences was surreal. There’s this profound awareness of something slowly fading away, leaving the safe nest of your mind. I felt wistful and empty all at once.
Over the next few months, I’d love to share more with you. I’ll start with a few lines to pique your curiosity -
The half truth is: I don't want a child. I want sex.
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But instead of a daughter, every day loneliness stood by her side, staring back at her in the mirror with glaring, gleaming eyes, making faces as if mocking Rosa. Rosa, our eccentric fanatic. Rosa, the bad mother. Rosa, the prude. Rosa, the gullible. Rosa, the foolish machine. Loneliness was a cruel companion. It startled her in the hallway, slapped her fingers when she tried to eat, screeched shrilly when she wanted to wash, and laughed maliciously when she attempted to read or write a letter to Viola.
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When I arrived in January, that’s exactly what I wanted: to sweat under a blue sky. What a mistake. Sweating is awful. And the saying about pigs is completely wrong. I just checked online, and it turns out pigs don’t sweat at all.
Happy September
xo Carolin