1. Wooloo.org is curating a New Life Berlin Festival about identity, or identity crisis, or how identity can be related to social responsibility, or how art has to have something to do with identity, or identity crisis, or social responsibility. But I have no identity. And therefore I don’t feel the need to have any social responsibility. Now does that mean I can not make art?
2. My Chinese is getting bad. Or so my mom told me that she could not understand me. Yet my Chinese look and Chinese passport remain the same. I am not a Chinese artist, who by the way is so hot in the global art market right now. I wish I were to some degree. But I am not. I am not anything else either, as you can tell.
3. People provoking identities make me want to cry. Gays and lesbians. immigrants, women, eastern europeans, afros, asian americans, tibetans, whatever victimized names you can think of, as if they wanted to be victimized so that they can cry with pleasure. Masochism. But what about smokers’ rights. What about students’ rights.
4. Minority rights. A good word, as if majorities were enormously duplicated. The next word for minorities should be “designer human”, “hand-made human”, “vintage human”. But you know “made in china” humans have to be very cheap.
5. All these only lead to one thing, that I decided to use an alternative name from now on. Anything except official documents would start to go with koli b. yu.
6 . But you can call me whatever.
7. There is no identity above personality. That’ s what I’m provoking.
Excerpt from:
1234567
1. Wooloo.org is curating a New Life Berlin Festival about identity, or identity crisis, or how identity can be related to social responsibility, or how art has to have something to do with identity, or identity crisis, or social responsibility. But I have no identity. And therefore I don’t feel the need to have any social responsibility. Now does that mean I can not make art?
2. My Chinese is getting bad. Or so my mom told me that she could not understand me. Yet my Chinese look and Chinese passport remain the same. I am not a Chinese artist, who by the way is so hot in the global art market right now. I wish I were to some degree. But I am not. I am not anything else either, as you can tell.
3. People provoking identities make me want to cry. Gays and lesbians. immigrants, women, eastern europeans, afros, asian americans, tibetans, whatever victimized names you can think of, as if they wanted to be victimized so that they can cry with pleasure. Masochism. But what about smokers’ rights. What about students’ rights.
4. Minority rights. A good word, as if majorities were enormously duplicated. The next word for minorities should be “designer human”, “hand-made human”, “vintage human”. But you know “made in china” humans have to be very cheap.
5. All these only lead to one thing, that I decided to use an alternative name from now on. Anything except official documents would start to go with koli b. yu.
6 . But you can call me whatever.
7. There is no identity above personality. That’ s what I’m provoking.
Originally posted here:
1234567
1. Wooloo.org is curating a New Life Berlin Festival about identity, or identity crisis, or how identity can be related to social responsibility, or how art has to have something to do with identity, or identity crisis, or social responsibility. But I have no identity. And therefore I don’t feel the need to have any social responsibility. Now does that mean I can not make art?
2. My Chinese is getting bad. Or so my mom told me that she could not understand me. Yet my Chinese look and Chinese passport remain the same. I am not a Chinese artist, who by the way is so hot in the global art market right now. I wish I were to some degree. But I am not. I am not anything else either, as you can tell.
3. People provoking identities make me want to cry. Gays and lesbians. immigrants, women, eastern europeans, afros, asian americans, tibetans, whatever victimized names you can think of, as if they wanted to be victimized so that they can cry with pleasure. Masochism. But what about smokers’ rights. What about students’ rights.
4. Minority rights. A good word, as if majorities were enormously duplicated. The next word for minorities should be “designer human”, “hand-made human”, “vintage human”. But you know “made in china” humans have to be very cheap.
5. All these only lead to one thing, that I decided to use an alternative name from now on. Anything except official documents would start to go with koli b. yu.
6 . But you can call me whatever.
7. There is no identity above personality. That’ s what I’m provoking.
Excerpt from:
1234567
Oddly I have nothing to blog about. Everyday I walk the same route from northtown to the university, then maybe up and down marienstraßs four or five times, stopping at the fifty cents cafe on campus several times, buying coffee from the vending machine nevertheless, sitting in my studio thinking about life, eating and smoking in the restaurant across street thinking about life, chatting with people on and off not really about the kind of life I know about, looking at full catalogues of Ars Electronica in Limona thinking about life, getting lost at the east side forgetting about life, then slipping on the stone roads slipping on life.
Yes my conclusion is that life is just as slippery as Goetheplatz. Things slip out and you pick them up, or not. You fall and you get up, or rather not. Ruby on the rail. Water under bridge.
I can only focus on finding a right gorgeous heely. When I slip I slip with grace.
Original post:
Rambles.
Oddly I have nothing to blog about. Everyday I walk the same route from northtown to the university, then maybe up and down marienstraßs four or five times, stopping at the fifty cents cafe on campus several times, buying coffee from the vending machine nevertheless, sitting in my studio thinking about life, eating and smoking in the restaurant across street thinking about life, chatting with people on and off not really about the kind of life I know about, looking at full catalogues of Ars Electronica in Limona thinking about life, getting lost at the east side forgetting about life, then slipping on the stone roads slipping on life.
Yes my conclusion is that life is just as slippery as Goetheplatz. Things slip out and you pick them up, or not. You fall and you get up, or rather not. Ruby on the rail. Water under bridge.
I can only focus on finding a right gorgeous heely. When I slip I slip with grace.
Rambles.
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