Welcomed by a finger and an army officer promising lots of sunshine and thunder Shaking hands from Ghana all day long, sptressy ice cream, chunky Pizza, flat Foccacio, sausages in wine that I might never try myself Milan, the second most expensive city of Europe, home of il Vogue, il AC Milano and el Duomo.
Late start, Karen preps early lunch, listening to the "b", "m", "f", "a" from the Australian after party radio, Andy trying to prevent himself from working on his only free weekend in three weeks, carefully considered conceptual laziness , taking us out for a political debate alongside Moroccan and architectural sightseeing.
One hour cutting and gluing, two hours discussing, making art from and for fashion magazines, art by graphic design students who try too hard being something they aren't, materialise as big balls figments of imagination.
Jarret making us laugh while eating one of the best pizzas. Watching the village people filling up the weekend emptiness of Milan, Milan changes its face.
Next Day. Andy's urgent call to my hotel, our work causing confusion in his head, not wanting to mix his work with others‘; doesn't know who he is, author or curator, artist or designer, him or me, me, leaving his work in the hotel lobby, me, leaving his pages blank, it, the weekend, failure or success, me, confused, released and happy.
The anchovies have been very good and the Italian coffee is just the best. Hope to see you soon again. Ciao Milano.
Airport Milan Lineta, 5:48 a.m., Monday, 9th of May 2005, Mr. M.Lorenz.
Printed on green paper and presented in golden jackets