martin.to » pulp

Untitled Museum Post

Just before that whole virus thing got out of hand, Insa and I went to Hamburger Bahnhof. It is a building located in Berlin and used to be the terminal station for the Berlin-Hamburg railway, but these days, it houses a contemporary art museum because there is no reason for anybody to go to Hamburg.

As far as I am concerned, contemporary art exhibitions are always a hit or miss thing, and this time it was no different. There were a couple of works that I thoroughly enjoyed (101 portraits of people aged 0 to 100; models of people’s mouths next to cynical descriptions of their death circumstances) and some that I really didn’t (stones?).

Halfway through I noticed quite an appetite emerging in my stomach, so we went to the next restaurant that seemed ok. In Mitte, this task is synonymous to “locating the least soulless hipster shoebox,” and I had almost settled on “let's just starve to death” out of sheer principle.

The burger restaurant we chose was just as expected: prices were expensive and the burgers were amazingly dry. Waiter service was fine.

We went back to the museum and spent some more time in there, then bought a couple of edgy postcards, then went to Insa’s place and wrote a postcard to David, a mutual friend of ours.

“Most beloved David,

we've been to Hamburger Bahnhof for about 4 hours. Ever went there? It flowed poetically, like a toilet. Chickens on skin are appealing! Don't you think so? Sometimes, tea cups have two handles.

Hopefully, Austria does not do any mischief!
Poetical greetings from Berlin~

  Insa + martin”

At home, I tried to use the remaining postcards to enhance the common bathroom.

Moments after I was done putting them on the wall, my flatmate came in. First, she shuddered. After a while, she looked slightly amazed and said something like “oh wow, that’s disgusting”, and started to laugh.

Then, she made a shrieking noise.

“IS THAT A CHILD???”
— “I, uhh, I don't know”, I retorted.
— “I've had similar-looking underwear as a child!!”

But just when I was starting to feel bad about this delicate situation, she calmed down and came to the conclusion that it's art after all — and therefore acceptable.

Phew!