Blood simple

A great lorry tag (above) and, later, a similarly great dinner at Chow Bar, with two new acquaintaces: photographer Chris Maluszynski (very talented photographer who has won the Photo of the Year Award in Sweden, among other titles) and Rody Douzoglou (owner of in-the-know itinerant gallery Douz and Mille).

Rody's project Restaurant Week, where they will be exhibiting four well-selected artists (Mark Tribe of Rhizome.org for example) at different New York restaurants during The Armoury Show at the end of this month, is a great idea and I'm really sad that I'm in Spain those days. Good luck, lady!

G.I. Phone Home

Meeting with the Tokion crew at Li'l Frankie's. We'll be doing a first Creativity Now event in Stockholm in June. It will be great.

A friend in NY has done some spring cleaning at home, found two cell phones she didn't use and decided to support the troops.

I wonder if the army really thought this initiative through... Now soldiers can call home yelling like Uncle Andy: "I'm waiting to be blown up by a car bomb rigged by a 12-year-old who loved Friends and Metallica until one of our missiles blew up his house!"

Start spreading the news...

There's one thing you can say about New York: The public art is crap. You need to make your own combinations for it to have any meaning at all...

People say it's exhausting here. All the buzz taps you of energy. All the noise makes you tired. And the ohmygods strip the city of all the edge and dignity it had.

I don't know. I wasn't here ten-twenty years ago so I don't need to complain. And the "oh-remember-when-we-were-afraid-to-get-mugged"-nostalgia seem similarly stupid to the ostalgia of the East Germans, longing back to beige days of Stasi controlled children programmes.

New York is good for me, good to me. I get energy from energy. I like to sit and write at some café late on a Wednesday night and not being the only one working (and not being labelled "sad fuck, no life" or "pretentious fuck, showing off"). When everyone else is also moving, aiming, on their way somewhere, I can relax and focus.

London also works for me. And funnily, so does Mallorca. Someone told me that the buzz many feel when on the island comes from being right on top of the crossing of several subterranean geomagnetic currents.

Bullshit? Who cares. I like it there. I like it here.

It's a wonderful life

Pontus in the Greenhouse closes in March next year. The Stenbeck owners want to use the house for something else and Pontus Frithiof will open up a new place on Brunnsgatan with Sven Hagströmer. I'm sure that will be fantastic, but I'll still make sure to enjoy table 38 in the bar as many times as I can before shutdown. Everything is a treat, but don't miss the minuscule homemade violet marshmallow. Or the duck liver fat butter. Or...

Pot luck

Yesterday morning, I was given a fortune cookie at a reception. I hope the message that I got means that my future will be good, not that I don’t have one…










Later that day I was given a book about the next Chinese year, the Year of the Pig, starting in February. As a Fire Goat (which I apparently am) I will be provided with an endless row of possibilities to further everything from career to personal contacts. Seems like turning forty will be quite a pleasure…

Bowling for Columbia

It sounds like someone lured Barry White and Cardigans into a recording studio and asked them to do some sexy 21st century Motown pop with attitude. John Legend’s US-platinum-selling last album from 2004 is an average 90s-Lauryn Hill-attempt (even the cover design is similar), but now it sounds like this ex-Boston Consulting consultant (!) has finally stepped out of the copy closet. He’ll start up a short European tour in Columbiahalle in Berlin on September 21, and if his new Save Room single won’t get heavy rotation on radio this autumn (especially the public Scandinavian ones), I will eat the only hat I own.

Little big man

On September 17, the Berliners choose a new Senate and a new Mayor. The prospects for the ruling red-red coalition (social democrats and ex-communists) should look bleak; unemployment hovers around 20%, the city finances are in ruins, schools in Berlin are reputedly lousy and immigrant integration seems non-functioning. Still, the opposition has great problems attracting sympathies. Apart from Berlin’s traditional left-wing fancy, this probably has one major reason: Klaus Wowereit, the Mayor. Shortly before the last election in 2001, when the conservatives were about to leak the fact that he is gay, he stepped out, told everyone himself with his now famous “Ich bin schwul und das ist gut so” and was instantly transformed from boring left-wing technocrat to the cool Wowi that everybody wants to cuddle with. When the conservative mayor candidate Friedbert Pflüger did a miserable and nervous attempt at hanging out backstage at the last CSD (Pride) Parade, it was obvious that – probably for the first time anywhere in the world – NOT being gay will keep you from winning an election in a multi-million metropolis. And THAT is cool.

Analyse this

The waitor’s comment was a bit dry. When we apologised for not being able to finish our toilet-lid sized Wiener schnitzels, he answered smiling that “most people manage it”, glancing sideways at the empty plates in front of the couple next to us. We were just sad that we couldn’t top it with Kaiserschmarren. Try for yourself at Austria in Kreuzberg (and combine it with neurotic confessions of the pains of approaching any age ending with a zero).

Some like it hot

Never thought I would say this, but the evening was pleasantly chilled as we strolled into Schloss Charlottenburg for this season's outdoor movie opening. Somewhat 1500 people in deck chairs on the courtyard, sapping beer and following the edited destiny of Johnny Cash. The blazing heat of the past weeks, months, seemed somehow just like a feverish dream - skin constantly moist and memories tinted with an orange-red light (like my childhood images of Rosemary's Baby, that I happened to watch alone one night), taken for granted and enjoyed. Now I am awake again, the cool wind blowing sense into my face. It's pleasant too.

Cocktail

Kreuzberg revisited. Had (quite a decent) dinner at Goldene Hahn and (sadly not the usual good) daiquiris at Orient Lounge with my Hamburg buddy Jörg Geier (who probably has the most Google hits of anyone I know). Before we both got a little too drunk to be serious, he managed to tell me about The Club Of Rome, where he works. I guess I am sceptical towards all self-righteous organisations where well-off people try to convince other less fortunate that the world shouldn't just be about money, but maybe they can play an important role in changing the mindset of policy makers. At least he gets to travel a lot :)

Candyman

Driving back to Malmö from Linköping I decide to stop for coffee in picturesque Gränna by the Vättern lake. Gränna is (at least in Sweden) known for a special candy, polkagrisar (polka-pigs).
Curious to see how they package and brand these tourist treasures, I browsed some of the high street candy-workshops, but the result was quite disappointing. Packaging and setting are the same basic Swedish standard that I remember from being a kid, and product-development seems non-existing. Too bad, since there is a lot of potential in branded delikatessen, even if it's origin is very humble.
Two companies that have understood this are the Greek Mastiha Shop and the Slovenian Soline. The basic products - rubber extract from Chios and salt from Secovlje - are nothing special, but the product development around them is. And the packaging is delicious.
Something for the South-Swedish apple industry to learn from. I found a weak attempt in one of the Gränna shops (blog pic), but it could be so much more.

The Kid

From Hultsfred to Linköping, to see my sister and family. Including this little brat, Alexander, my nephew and god-son. So far, my contributions to his upbringing has been limited to fashion statements (a hood from Oxford University, a ridiculously cute fur-lined down jacket from Turin... - this is so much fun) but I guess - and hope - that it will be more substantial (and subversive) as he gets older.

If value, then copy

Friday night, Hultsfred festival, Sweden. Hässleholm is building up atmosphere on the Atlantis stage with swinging electronic retro-beats and open-source preaching on the screens. A combo of Sophie Rimheden, Andreas Tilliander and others, we're told that this is a one-off show. Why? This is fantastic. Do you take or do you give when you party?

Wonderboys

Visiting ESMT, the new business school in Berlin. The irony of its location in Honecker's old party headquarters on Schlossplatz is quite intreaguing, and the renovation of the beautiful and amazingly impractical building almost has a religious touch to it (even the advanced machinery that moved all the maps around on the wall in Honecker's battle-like HQ has been kept).
ESMT is a new invention, an attempt from German big-business to create an alternative to the foreign MBA factories like Harvard and Sloane, where Daimler & Co usually sends their protegees. €100M has been collected from 25 companies to create the foundation that hosts the school and an international (and partly still un-proven) faculty has been hired.
The first 1-year MBA class started in January this year, 30 Wunderkinder (hopefully) from 15 countries. Brave youngsters, I'd say, trying out a new, unknown school - an MBA being such a strong personal branding investment (look who's talking, having chosen The Kaospilots myself...). But with the €50.000 fee paid by their employer or by the ESMT foundation itself, the decision is easier.
Since most people who do MBAs are heading for corporate careers, I guess my persona seemed a bit pointless to most of the students, but something interesting might still come out of this. At least, it's great for Berlin that the heavy industrial players build a presence here.
More photos.

Pearl Harbour

Hamburg. I'm told this is where the old German money is. It's interesting to be in a city that seems so familiar but that i still know nothing about. Like a parallell universe... I get a decent pastel de nata in the portugese part of town (Portugisenviertel, just south of Michaeliskirche) before meeting my friend Hannes and his boss Robert at This Gun Is For Hire. We talk about the merkantile Hamburg (in opposite to the arty Berlin) and the seemingly incurable, risk-averse German society, where being a good team player means to keep your mouth shut and not talk about any difficult truths. There is a general consent that Germany still looks a bit, er, fucked right now - but if they just win the World Cup, I'm sure everything will be OK. (Duh.)

The Beach

Cannes. Lounging away the afternoon, feet in sand, at the posh brasserie on Carlton's Kikki Beach. Enjoying the sun, the smiles and the attentive service . Finally.
Cannes - especially during festival - is a mental extreme-sport for your self-appreciation: you're NOBODY until otherwise proved. The contrast is even bigger than what I get in Copenhagen if I chose to speak Danish (just arrogance) or Swedish (ridicule, abuse or worse).
In spite of us (or Gentry, really) having a meeting booked in the adjoining promotion tent (there are several of these along the beach, giving away luxury freebies to celebs), we got lots of heavy sighs until we had someone call and certify us.
However, I guess all those heavy-sighing French people are just there to help me, because once inside, I'd rather lounge with Angelina than with that couple from Arkansas with pink lapel stickers showing which cruise ship they should be sent back to, in case they get lost.

Casino (close)

Monte Carlo. Went with Gentry (see blog Jan 4) to check out the space for the first store that she's (we're?) opening in August. Too bad it's not finished yet, since it has a huge terasse overlooking the Casino park and the Formula 1 race track (the race is Thursday).
Travel tip #963: Drop your modesty - the only sensible way to get to Monaco from Nice airport is the helicopter service. Ask for 'cash and fly' and you'll get the 8 minute trip for €70 instead of 95. And when you get there, the heli-shuttle will drive you wherever you want.

The Sound of Music

Wien. Back in the city of waltzes after a few days of incubator workshops in Graz. Even though the recorded info-voices in the subway still sound a bit scary, I've liked Vienna since the first time I came here, inter-railing with my pal Anders in 1988 (coming from France, we spent half a day being confused about how expensive everything was, until we remembered that an Austrian schilling was just half a French franc). I like it's compactness combined with the grandness of its buildings and squares, the way it's steeped in history in a contemporary way (with classical music spilling out of windows everywhere). I like its cafés, I like the sausage in the Albertina kiosk (especially in the evening, at Opera break, when the place gets packed by people in tuxedos and evening-gowns downing Käsewurst and Bier) and I like the notion that underneath the polished bourgeois facades of buildings and people, it's all over-analyzed Freudian insanity, barely controlled. And they still play "Life is life" on the radio.

Sweet Smell of Success

At the Siemens Forum in Wien. The University's startup service INiTS has gathered some 150 people to listen to professor and entrepreneur Robert D Hisrich from Thunderbird. I'm mainly here to see the director Michael Rauhofer (incubator managers with a great sense of humor is a rarity) but the speech is quite interesting. I often wonder if it's at all possible to boost entrepreneurship in a protected welfare state - or if you must have the competitive societies of the US or South-east Asia to shake people into action. At events like these - where a successful entrepreneur shares his insights in a personal way, and you can sense the eagerness of the audience - it's easier to believe that it's possible. Can successful companies be built out of pure lust to create something valuable?

Die Macht der Bilder

I'm a Berliner - and proud of it. But sometimes they really make me wonder... As un-hip a brand that Germany has worldwide (sorry, but it's true...), just as cool is Berlin when you ask any conscious world citizen. Still, the city does hardly nothing to develop, exploit or even deserve its growing reputation as creative, stimulating and exciting hub. The marketing of the city is confusing at best. When I finally spot a campaign covering all underground trains that seems to be communicating to visitors , it's a call to local football fans to please, if possible, beat up each other and fellow passengers just a little less when they travel drunk and howling to and from football games.
Come on Berlin, we're being compared to New York, but it's not that New York that we're striving for.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Thursday
I'm having breakfast at Tres in Palma, yet another succesful, stylish Swedish hotel on Mallorca. The instant-hit Portixol in Palma showed the way a few years ago, Puro followed (they also just opened an amazing beach resort in the Palma bay) and now the Portixol people has revamped the huge 50s Hotel Esplendido in Puerto de Soller to parts former glory, parts cool Nordic modernity. All the guidebooks and feature writers seem amazed at how the Swedes always get it so right, no matter if it's the naval charm of Portixol or the ethno-chic of Puro. I think the answer lies in the Swedish seriousness (often mistaken by Danes as boring) - that copying a surface isn't enough: you have to understand how it's done and why, so that you can make your own choices.
In futuristic novels like Jon Courtenay Grimwood's Arabesk trilogy, Scandinavians are depicted as untouchable, mysteriously rich and laid-back high-tech backpackers. Now I know where these society surfers will get their wealth from: being exclusive and still inviting (almost) anyone in.

The House of Mirth

I've seen some weird entry stamps at clubs, but this has to be one of the... er, funnier. (Irrenhouse at Geburtstagsklub).

Wedding Crashers

Friday
Balikci Ergün is a Turkish fish oulet in a vault under the overground S-Bahn by the Bellevue station in Wedding/Berlin. They used to have a half-legal eatery as well that you entered through the store, but since a while back you can now enter from the other side into a charming restaurant. From the ceiling hangs a thick forest of cryptic notes from friends and customers, praising or complaining. And a whole fresh fish, grilled to perfection and served with a salad for around €10. Great for watching football as well. They should just fire the fiddler.
Drinks afterwards at Green Door, fighting with Haifish to be the best cocktail bar in town.

Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie

Wednesday.
Back for a day in Malmö. Seminar at Plan B with very posh British columnist Jonathan Power at Herald Tribune about the historical background to the Western/Muslim conflict (I believe I enjoyed his upper-class English more than the content). He was generally Bush-bashing and launched some old-fashioned theories about integration (well, he is old) but I had to leave before the anti-thesis was delivered (a hardcore Swedish female conservative defence politician) which must have been quite challenging for the mainly female crowd.
A short coach-chat at Minc with designer Jonas Hultquist (the creator of cool rubber boots for Tretorn). I told him it's time he did his own thing. Then back home to Berlin.

Celebrity

Monday

Missed Gentry Lane’s celebrations in Paris tonight after she got her garments on the cover of Women’s Wear Daily. Gentry, I’ll come when we celebrate the Fortune cover next year instead! (More about Gentry in my January 5 entry - ha, that rhymes.)

Mission Impossible 1

Easter

Spent at mum’s house in Sweden (yes, it’s just as picturesque as it looks). My sister brought husband, 2-year-old son (immensely cute and my godson, but, you know, 2 years old...) and her American statistics professor, Kip, who seemed to enjoy the weird behaviors and eating disorders of a Swedish family. My granny, 92 now, joined us for Saturday dinner. More family pics on my mom’s blog (probably one of the best Mom Blogs around).

Airport

Monday
Took the morning flight to Copenhagen from Tempelhof, Speer's airport for the 1936 Olympics (and "the mother of all airports" according to Norman Foster). It's the only thing from Speer - together with the lightposts on 17. Juni - that still stands in Berlin, and one has to admit it's a beauty. It closes soon for traffic, so hurry...
Had a lunch meeting in Kävlinge (don't laugh, I grew up there) about them wanting to set up a business incubator there (don't laugh about that either, tiny Framlingham in Suffolk has an excellent technology centre, so...). Even the lunch chicken wasn't bad. (But it does feel a bit weird to be back - at age 16 I was very happy to leave...)
Afternoon chat with Kristian Bengtsson of Fivestarday about the future of just about everything. You expand my mind, man.

Das Schloß

Friday:
Strolled by Brandenburger Tor where Audi showcased their new TT. They had also dumped a 2,5x plastic replica of the car there. Not bad at all - but for cool German cars, wait for the Loremo instead. Smart design and it only uses 1,5 litre of diesel per 100 km. It started as a student research project, but being so ingenious it looks like it actually will come into production. (You'll have to waut till 2009 though, but you can queue up now on their website.)
Saturday:
Hung out for hours at the huge Hugendubel bookstore by Kudamm. In a very Berliner manner, the whole place is filled with sofas and armchairs where you can read any book for as long as you like without anyone complaining - and without having to buy anything. (I even see people come back several times to finish books they've started.) I did my normal routine: gathered a good pile of books and sat down next to a latte and a muffin (both among the better in town) in the café. They have a considerable department for books in English and the prices are even lower than in the UK. Good fun.
Sunday:
Took the train to Grünewald with its many impressing villas (passed the "Swedenborg Zentrum" - amazing that people still remember that wacko) and had royal tea at the Schlosshotel. Not cheap (€27) but the rooms are both imposing and cozy, the service impeccable and you get as much cucumber sandwiches and fresh scones as you like. Just make sure you save space for the cake buffet...

The polar express

Thursday:
Strolled over to the Nordic embassies with Modesty (my insider at the Uzbekische Geheimdienst) for the opening of the Northern Cities photo art exhibition. I've seen too much contemporary art to be generally optimistic, but some of this was quite good. It's a workshop project with stops in way-up-north cities like Oulo, Tromsö and Murmansk. Most interesting, contentwise as well as technically, was Swedish Julia Peirone. She's already been picked by Swedish gallerist Andreas Brändström. Not surprisingly, since he has a very good eye. Congratulations, she'll sell. (Check her book "Blind smek min kind", beautiful.)

Just friends

Wednesday
Lunch by the stammtish at hip Modellhut in Mitte (serving a perfect Wiener schnitzel) with Jürgen of Rugstar, one of the world’s (yes) most interesting deliverers of innovative floorbased designs. The Ikea braille (blind-alphabet) carpets are his design, but it’s in his shop in Mulackstrasse that the real masterpieces are found. (Like the huge forest-green Nepal wool treasure I have on my floor at home, with the outline of the Berlin logo-bear in silver silk thread.) He’s had his first buy-out offer (took four years, reasonable) which he of course politely declined, but he’s on his way of making it very big.
With us at the table, hat createur Fiona Bennett. We talk about Berlin’s increasing appeal as a base for whatever innovative work you want to develop. It’s big, creative and buzzing, the standard of food and housing often fantastic, and – unlike any other world metropolis – inexpensive (where else can you get a fantastic city-centre one-bedroom flat with for under €500 without any effort?). The only drawback is that you probably won’t find your clients here, but with travel getting cheaper by the day, who cares?
Coffee with Civan, talking about starting up a network office a la United Spaces in Berlin. Let’s see…

Me And You And Everyone We Know

Monday
Bikram yoga at Mehringdamm in Kreuzberg with Karsten. I don’t care if Madonna has raved about this thing, all I got was a headache and a wet t-shirt. Will stick to my hatha yoga.

Tuesday
Farewell reception at Tristesse in Kreuzberg for my benefactor and fellow aquarius Susa Pop, off to tour Eastern Europe for three months with her Mobile Studios project. A good gathering. Ruthe (doing cool media/art under Walkscreen) was there, so was Antje (Style & The Family Tunes fashion editor, the magazine even better now after an editorial and graphic boost). I’ll miss Susa. Hope to go visit her in Sofia in June.

Good Night, and Good Luck

Friday
Madame Butterfly at Staatsoper with Christian. With three opera houses in town, there’s always something on – and you can usually get decent balcony seats for under €10. No need to worry about dressing up either – this is Berlin, not Vienna… Tonight, Madame B did a good job (though I wouldn’t call her a butterfly…) but the rest was a bit mediocre… A perfect after-opera snack at the Tadschikische Teestube across the street didn’t happen, all the low tables were crowded. But Gloria Viagra and Sherry Vine and rocked the house in Big Eden with their club Squeezebox and their in-your-face act. Fucked up my tinnitus but made me feel I was finally back in Berlin.

Saturday
With Civan at Solar. Finally Berlin has a stylish sky bar where you can bring visitors. Two floors, bar and eatery, with white leather sofas swinging in chains from the ceiling and panaroma views in three directions. Rounded the night off at Vagabund on Knesebeckstrasse/Savignyplatz, a round-the-clock tanzbar classic, labelled outside as “private gay club men only” but in reality just very mixed. Weird in a great way, from the mature and imposing lady with tinted glasses in the bar to the sinister doorman.