There were two books lying on top of a row of books. When I picked up one in an excited manner, the other one fell behind the other books.
“I wrote my masters thesis on this book!” (It was Foer’s Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close)
“I’m interested in the other book.”
He walked over and reached his hand behind the books to pick it up.
“Pick any line from this book and it’s wisdom,” he said. For him, that book was love.
I looked over and read the title, “The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again)”
“But Andy Warhol was an asshole.” I took the book in my hand and briefly scanned it, thinking wisdom?
Long after this conversation ended and I was no longer apart of his life, I read as much of Andy Warhol as I could but there was no other line I liked more than that phrase inside the parentheses outside on the cover. So I kept using it and repeating it like this… from A to B and back again.
“Something beautiful. Something true … then, out of nowhere, a flock of birds flew by the window, extremely fast and incredibly close. Maybe twenty of them. Maybe more. But they also seemed like just one bird, because somehow they all knew exactly what to do…” Foer, found right in the middle of the book.
Professional heartbreakers pirouette gracefully around you as self-sufficient entities needing no additional qualities- they already have the best. They leave behind a psychological trail of trigger words, a philosophy, a specific color, a Hapsburg Empire of references to reel your interests into a sublimated loop. Their victims are the inculcated until they are not. Your understanding of truth and beauty becomes “Beauty is shoe, shoe beauty…” You always thought Warhol was an asshole and now you’re reading his entire oeuvre to understand his genius, how he cracked the code and gained the qualities he always wanted.
“Zwischen kante, slowdive und der sinatra-tochter…” becomes a riddle of wisdom representing the ribbed dimensions of a key opening the mysteries of a soul. The loosely chosen and uncapitalized words written in lackadaisical haste gets pondered upon until finally you realize… fuck, its just a list of bands. “Zwischen kante” will always be more interesting than the actual Kante.
Kante begins to seem like the most beautiful German word, something you need more of having had too much of Kant in your past. You start asking Germans if they’ve heard of the band Kante, separating people into the great Kante divide.
Eventually, Warhol’s philosophy gets understood and the repetition of the words “zwischen kante” makes it less and less meaningful until its archived. Heartbreaker goes on breaking hearts, and you can finally leave the Hapsburg Empire behind. Beauty is no longer shoe.
This conversation took place while walking around Neukölln with a friend whose most important aim in life is to make money, save money and invest money. Therefore, he left Germany and moved to Switzerland.
“These people don’t know the value of their time, just look at all these people just hanging out.”
“At that restaurant and in these cafes. . . don’t they have anything to do?”
“Its dinnertime, they’re eating.”
Had I read Currid’s book on “The Warhol Economy,” I would have been able to answer this question properly defending all creative loafers in Berlin. Unfortunately, back then, I didn’t know the evergreen influence of Warhol or how the creative economy worked. As read in a Candace Bushnell novel, I didn’t know how to negotiate the system. Apparently, I should have been spending all my time on the Berghain dance floor and then at least my urine would have been part of an art exhibition.
Currid describes how the creative economy happens through proximity with other creatives in social settings, like bars, cafes, clubs as places where you not only meet the people you are looking for, gatekeepers or tastemakers, but also as places to exchange ideas.
“No market relies more heavily on social networks than the exchange of cultural goods –like fashion, art, and music. Cultural industries and their products are driven by taste rather than performance.” Currid
So essentially creatives hang out in the same scene, and they give work and find work through loose social networks. They are the gypsy kings to merchant princes. #ebwhite