Night after night, I lose myself, an unconscious wanderer, in Berlin’s necropolis. Watchman or security guard, spectator or actor. Call it a stroll or a patrol, it depends on the purpose I attribute to my wanderings. The patrol bores me, its circularity is a curse. Despite my struggles against monotony, my attempts to lose and surprise myself, as the paths intertwine and my ambulation progresses, habits and patterns emerge, like an algorithm laid bare. No matter how much I try to change rhythms, I unwittingly retrace my steps, sketching the same pattern over and over again. It has crossed my mind to stop thinking and let instinct guide me but I quickly realised that in practice, my path became even more predictable. No, the only strategy is that of learning and reflection, constructing each new route based on the previous ones, and confronting ignorance head-on. Will I be happier for it? It’s highly unlikely, but I will certainly make better progress. Towards what? I don’t know. Do I even know what I’m doing here, what role I’ve inherited? Merely surviving is already remarkable. And while resilience may not be a strategy for happiness, it at least prevents succumbing to the blows of misfortune that inevitably come crashing down like tides eroding the cliff. Not looking back is one thing, knowing where I come from is another.
History repeating I, II & III (2023)
Triptych / Mixed techniques on canvas