ART&RESEARCH

A Portrait of the Artist as a Worker (rmx.)
Everything that I do

You are an artist and that means: you don’t do it for the money. That is what some people think. It is a great excuse not to pay you for all the things you do. So what happens is that you, as an artist, put money into projects that others will show in their museum, in their Kunsthalle, in their exhibition space, in their gallery. So you are an investor. You give loans nobody will repay you. You take financial risks. You speculate on yourself as an artistic asset. You are a trader. You cannot put all your money into one kind of artistic stock. So you diversify your activities. You manage the risks you take. You would say it differently. I know. You say you suffer from a gentle schizophrenia. You have multiple personalities. You are a photographer, but also a DJ. You have a magazine, you are a publisher, but you also organize parties. You take photos of party people. You throw a party when you present a magazine, you make magazines with photographs of party people, you throw a party and you are the DJ. You do interviews with people you meet, you do interviews with people you would like to meet, you tell the people you meet about your magazine. You buy records on flea markets, you distribute flyers announcing parties in the bar where you have a coffee after visiting the flea market, you make videos recording how you destroy the records you bought on the flea market, you liberate your country from its bad music, you show the video in a gallery and you are a DJ at the vernissage. You invite other DJs to DJ with you, you are an MC and someone else is the DJ, you welcome the people who came to the party, you introduce people to one another. You are an artist and you are a mediator, you mix records and you want people to mix, you even mix photographs, you mix photographs of people you want to mix. You present yourself as someone else and you are the way you present yourself. You pretend and you are for real. You sing. You’re doing research on the swing. You make photographs from photographs, you put magazine covers in your magazine, you cover songs. You are an artist and that means it would be nice to get some money for all the things you do. You write for subsidies, you try to get grants, you talk with nice people who might lend you some money, you have a solicitor to help you in order to get money from people who aren’t nice. You make dinner for people you introduce to one another, you discuss publication plans over dinner. You ask people to write about your work, you tell them how you work, you show them all. You explain them the basic facts of a young artist’s life. That you are an artist and that it means: you don’t do it for the money. That is what some people think. It is a great excuse not to pay you for all the things you do. So what happens is that you, as an artist, put money into projects that others will show in their museum, in their Kunsthalle, in their exhibition space, in their gallery. So you are an investor. You give loans nobody will repay you. You take financial risks. You speculate on yourself as an artistic asset. You are a trader. You cannot put all your money into one kind of artistic stock. So you diversify your activities. You manage the risks you take. I would say it differently. You know. I say you suffer from a gentle schizophrenia. You have multiple personalities. You are a DJ, but also a photographer. You organize parties but you have a serious side too that publishes magazines. Just kidding. You give people photographs at parties. You consider magazines as an excuse for a party — kidding again — you collaborate with party people to create magazines, you throw a party and the DJ is a Lady. You’re lots of Ladies. You walk around with no breaks at parties of Femmes with Fatal Breaks and you are so shy you don’t even dare to order a drink. You meet people for interviews, you do interviews as an alibi to meet people, you tell the people you meet about your party life. You buy records in second hand shops when it is just too rainy to go the flea market, you distribute flyers announcing parties in the bar where you have a nice hot cup of tea after shopping, you sell the videos recording how you destroy the records you bought at the second hand shops or at the flea market to a museum, you liberate your country from its bad taste in general, you show a video in a gallery and you are the DJ at a dernissage, or a finissage, or whatever it is called. You’re leaving Berlin. You’re coming back soon. You’re always on the move. You make photographs and you ask others to make photographs the way you want it. You interview the people you asked to make photographs, you transcribe the tapes of the interviews, you type the transcriptions of the interviews and get them published in your magazine. You invite the people you interviewed to the presentation of the magazine, you distribute flyers announcing the presentation of your magazine in the club where you are having a party, you announce the next party at your party. You represent yourself as someone else than you are and you are the way you represent yourself. You pretend and you are for real. Things may vary. You’re doing research on the military. You make photographs of soldiers, you make photographs of artists. You are an artist yourself and that means it would be nice to get some money for all the things you do. Sometimes you get subsidies, it’s great to get grants, you know this nice guy who might lend you some more money, you still have that solicitor who helps you in order to get money from people who just happen to be very very bad people. You make dinner for people you don’t need to introduce any more, you discuss publication plans over dinner and there is still some wine from last time. You ask people to write about your work again. They know already how you work and what it means to be an artist: that is that some guys think you don’t do it for the money. Yeah, right. It’s a great excuse not to pay you shit for all the things you do. So what the fuck happens is that you, as a fucking artist, put fucking money into projects that others will show in their fucking museum, in their shitty Kunsthalle, in their sexhibition space, in their gutter gallery. So you are an investor. You give loans nobody will ever ever repay you. You take fucking financial risks. You speculate on yourself as an ‘artistic asset’. Don’t you see? You are a trader! You cannot put all your money into one kind of artistic stock. So, well,  you ‘diversify your activities’, as they would say. You manage the risks you take. Great. You would say it differently. Don’t tell me that. You say I suffer from a very unpleasant schizophrenia. That I have multiple personalities. Well yes I am. Didn’t you know that before? I am a philosopher, but also a writer. I am an editor of a magazine and I invite people to write for this magazine. I occasionally work with artists on projects that end up in exhibitions where I meet people who ask me to write about their work. Sometimes I do it for free. Because you know how hard things are for an artist these days. You don’t do it for the money. That is what some people think. It is a great excuse not to pay you for all the things you do. So what happens is that you, as an artist, put money into projects that others will show in their museum, in their Kunsthalle, in their exhibition space, in their gallery. So you are an investor. You give loans nobody will repay you. You take financial risks. You speculate on yourself as an artistic asset. You are a trader. You cannot put all your money into one kind of artistic stock. So you diversify your activities. You manage the risks you take. You would say it differently. I know, but I don’t use the f-word. You say you suffer from a gentle schizophrenia. You have multiple personalities. I think I understand.