International Paneling/June 2023
Image by Horster
Random Revelations of 2023
by Leo Kuelbs
NYC
This past month, we drove from NYC to Minnesota and back. It was our first chance to dig a little deeper into the world of further removed friends, some of whom I haven’t seen for over 10 years. The virus has been receding and with it, some new thoughts and realities have been revealed during the visits and the long drives. Here are a few of these revelations…
Between COVID and the George Floyd murder and its aftermath, a lot of psychological damage has been done. Personal confidence has been shattered for many and familial relationships have been strained to the max due to the necessary reactions to those affected by mental health issues. The roving hoards of all types of trouble-makers forced some peace-loving types to buy guns—which they would not have done otherwise, while fears of COVID drove the control-minded into a home-bound defensive frenzy. Obviously, this feeds into greater issues about ongoing exposure to high levels of ambient stress and its health impacts. But upon venturing further out into our social circles, the level of impact to those in my world was a sad and troubling revelation. The positive spin on this is that these varieties of damage are now in the light and hopefully can begin to heal.
Speaking of ambient stress, rents and food prices are bananas. In Berlin, renters are bouncing from short contract to short contract, unable to secure a lease. I read somewhere that rents went up 20-some percent in the first quarter of this year alone. I mean, Berlin is nice-ish, but when it’s more expensive than Vienna, one wonders. That’s right, the cost per square meter in lovely Vienna is like 30% less than brutal Berlin.
Meanwhile, in NYC, the average rent is $4500 per month, up from $2700 from about 10 years ago. They say wages have gone up, but that doesn’t do much for those on fixed incomes like our aging baby-boomer friends and family members. Demand for spots in assisted living situations is going up based on demand. This will be happening for another 10-15 years. Look out for this. And, though I suppose it has happened at some point in history, prices usually do not go down. Except for Beany Babies…
For me personally, I am also realizing the actual price of “free.” So, it used to be said that Facebook was “free.” But, as we agreed those still binding use agreements—which no one understood, at the time—we never realized the potential value of facial recognition, as well as any other digital measurement and application of personhood. Is it true that the new generation of Iphone can leave messages and do other stuff in its owner’s voice? That’s handy! I would guess that rubbing your finger all over it and retinal recognition might also come into play here. Whatever the future of deep fakes, etc. might be, it is coming a lot faster than anticipated. Maybe our elected leaders should consider offering the unwitting populace a chance to exit existing agreements with digital data collectors? Just a thought. I mean, if it’s possible to get your student loans forgiven, why not consider an opt-out on the personal data? Just riffing here.
The AI situation is here, and as it improves, it will also expand exponentially and in all directions. This is a revelation that turns quickly into a premonition of tons and tons of new content. It won’t be long before the online experience of now is a quaint memory, like George W. Bush. Exactly what AI and the digital future will hold may be the topic of another kind of revelation (Yikes! My Catholic upbringing is kicking in), but surely it will necessitate a greater need for handling and sorting a tidal wave of new data—both fake and real. The revelation of the effects of much deeper immersion into all things digital has not yet appeared. But it is visible—somewhere in the not-too-distant future.
The other big aftermath/2023 revelation is that the isolation and stress of COVID likely contributed to the early exit from Earth of many of our friends and family. Whether it was untreated illness or pre-existing situations exacerbated by the stress, or just the passage of time, I am not totally sure. But a big chunk of us has moved on and the baby-boomer loss tunnel has seemingly begun.
To end on a related and more positive note, it is now clear that many people who were pushed pretty far during COVID have decided to handle their health in a more proactive way. Specifically, many friends have stopped drinking alcohol. This phenomenon seemed to happen all by itself, and though I didn’t take that particular plunge, I am also loving it. The health, and let’s not forget the financial, ripple effects are a surprise positive that the world can really use. Also, there are now so many nice choices of non-alcohol beers and liquors, a whole new and not depressing segment of socializing has been created. Also, new business opportunities. Could this change be described as evolutionary?
In the end, waking up in 2023 has been a lot to take in, for sure. But people have been through so much unbelievable stuff in our time, that maybe this isn’t the end of the world, at all. Instead, it is just our world turning, changing, evolving. As is its nature. As for me, I think I will open a bottle of Rosé and sit on the roof for a few minutes…
Shorty of the Month! Tom Rotenberg’s “The Final Journal Entry of Inmate #924212”
Intro by Leo Kuelbs
Tom Rotenberg has secretly been a key figure in Brooklyn, NY’s under/aboveground video scene for many, many years. As the defacto Technical Director of Made in New York center at the (now defunct) IFC’s Brooklyn headquarters, Rotenberg oversaw scores of shows, including the real first gallery presentation of Beeple, before the NFT explosion. TR has also been a long-standing part of LIGHT YEAR, contributing work, as well as setting up nearly every show since its beginning in 2015. His short film, “Don’t Forget to Remember,” has been screened multiple times, and his latest video, “Eating Emeralds” for A Pregnant Light is a trashy super rocking visual fest with culty-religious vibes. More videos and short films are on the way.
This video appeared as part of DIGITAL FAIRY TALES: “Vengeance is Mine,” released in early 2019—long before thoughts of the COVID virus filled our heads and days. “Vengeance is Mine” is described, in part, as…”In contemporary times, cultural fault lines have become more apparent. Though differences have always been a source of easily fanned suspicions, in our current and ever evolving digital environments, the villainous “other” is a ready tool used to divide those with otherwise common interests…”. Sound design was provided by Draven Stedman and Design help came from Jordan Haley.
You can learn more about Tom Rotenberg at his website, Metallic Imagery, which is in the link below.
POETRY PLACE!
by Sanjana Nair
Virginia Beach
Ocean, Nematode, Teeth
So there’s the ocean again. I mean, there’s always her and the wild green and
all that dirt that cradles it all. I tell her when she storms, that hey, I’m the dirt
beneath and around you, so why don’t you just settle on down and there’s always a
response.
I mean always. There’s sand isn’t dirt and sand is what surrounds me and I’m not the
same
as you, I’m water and I’m moving and growing in ways you’re just not. Often, I’m
rendered
speechless. I mean, I did not expect the ocean to speak back at all. And I know,
I mean, I know that I’m just dirt. It’s as if all I am meant to do these days is wash
into the holes and gaps to level the lawn when the water comes raging down.
It’s as if I’m just here to help other things grow. I mean, that’s what dirt does, right?
And I stare hard into the oceans’ million-eyed green, pondering. I tell her:
What do you know about nematodes? Do you know that in just the 6 inch layer of my
epidermis,
over one acre of my torso, the dirt I am houses over 20,000 pounds of living matter?
Does that matter mean anything to you? The ocean has a way of driving me crazy.
All those eyes, all those teeth. And she smirks at me to show just a few,
as if to let me know that she doesn’t even need the victory of a full grin—
that many teeth she has. Sure, sure. Lots of life. But without me, there was never any
to begin with.
There’s no you. I’m seething at this point, seething with life and the mud in my eye,
and all I can say is I am the place you were born and I am the place of rebirth.
Remember:
The rose grows in me from all of the bodies I have consumed. I know how full of thorns
I am.
Goodbye Ibiza – Hello Sitges
Video and text by Dirk Lehr
Berlin
Ibiza was really something special. European, but still different. Like an enclave. I've been there countless times. Not a summer went by that I didn't go to the Balearic Island. It would have been unimaginable for me to miss a season. At least once a year I wanted to renew the patina that the spirit of Ibiza had anointed on my soul. The old town, the port, the beaches, the light and above all the people. If you wanted to know what Cafe del Mar music feels like, you only had to sit down in the Croissant Show, a café at the foot of the ramp to the old town. The audience - regardless of age - casually chic, relaxed, sophisticated in a positive sense, not clean but still well-groomed. Nowhere vulgar summer vacationers and tacky things. Ibiza has never been cheap. But what you got was worth every penny.
The island has apparently reached a point where it thinks it can afford anything. Or it just wants to make fun of tourists, mock them.
Something had changed from one year to the next. Maybe it was a gradual process and I didn't realize it right away. In retrospect, things came to my mind that all of a sudden raised the question: Where have you gone my lovely? On the beach, the loungers and parasols became more expensive every year and the cashiers became less and less friendly. They just whispered the number to you, held out their hands and looked in all directions, just not in your face. The condition of hotel rooms and apartments deteriorated as quickly as their prices rose. Not to mention the food. It reminds of feeding of tourists. Even if you're willing to spend a fortune on accommodation and food, you still feel like you're being ripped off. What finally opened my eyes was the fact that one day infront of the said Croissant Show, stalls for souvenirs were set up, which sold the cheapest tourist junk. It looked like a fair somewhere in the provinces. They were joined by musicians and performers of the kind you see at crossroads in towns, who, after the performance, walked through the ranks and held out their hands. In a Berlin subway such contemporaries at least get off again at the next stop. In Ibiza, they stay there all night. Ibiza has always been a backdrop, an illusion. A wonderful daydream. But who needs x-large discotheques these days? Weren't the 1990s bad enough? The island has apparently reached a point where it thinks it can afford anything. Or it just wants to make fun of tourists, mock them. Prices are demanded, one can only be amazed - if one would at least get something for it! Ibiza no longer bothers to create the illusion of being an endemic setting. The audience has taken on vulgar traits, boasting that a bottle of champagne or a menu costs several thousand euros. That's what it's all about now, numbers, the higher the better. No matter what you get for it. In Monaco or St. Moritz, this is part of the DNA of such places. Ibiza seemed to have been immune to this. Until now. It's a shame, it was nice, but apparently everything has its time.
Luckily, I was asked if I would like to come to Sitges with them. I had heard of the small seaside resort near Barcelona, but had no idea what it was like there. I had just set foot in this little town when I asked myself: Why has this place been hiding from me for all these years? This wonderful old town with its small streets, the many small shops, restaurants and bars, the relaxed crowd and the even more relaxed atmosphere. For lunch, an octopus carpaccio, fried artichokes and a glass of crisp white wine. Then a stop at the Peter Stämpfli Foundation, the museum of the Swiss Pop Art artist. Stroll along the beach promenade in the evening, later have a drink in the old town and then who knows ... Sitges manages not to treat tourists like tourists and the tourists don't behave like tourists either. Wonderful. And if you instantly miss a big city, you can be in Barcelona in 30 minutes by train. Bye Bye Ibiza - Hello Sitges.
3 Questions with…Berlin-based Artist, Juliane Pieper!
If you haven’t got enough of Juliane’s illustrious illustrations in this and past issues of International Paneling, we thought you might need to top off your tank with this great “3 Questions with…” interview from a few months back! It’s Juliane Pieper-fest this month at International Paneling! Enjoy! She’s the best and we are huge fans!
Image by Pieper
Minneapolis Crime Report; Spring 2023
by Mark Bailey
Minneapolis
Last week while walking to the coffee shop, I looked at a slowly passing car and found it occupied with people wearing ski masks. Assuming they were all simply worried about covid, I continued on my way. When I reached the coffee shop, I learned that the liquor store on the corner had just been robbed.
"Four people in ski masks?" I asked.
"No, no mask, a single woman it sounds like," replied Dave, who hangs out on the block.
The exchange made me a little uneasy, because it left the question of the ski masks unanswered. This is yet another sign of my Minneapolis neighborhood's dubious security situation. Crime isn't high here. The level of crime is medium. But the area still hasn't fully recovered from the civil unrest of 2020 and the lawlessness that followed.
On formerly bustling corners, every other storefront is empty. Machine gun battles in the streets happen a few times a year.
On formerly bustling corners, every other storefront is empty. Machine gun battles in the streets happen a few times a year. One such shootout took out a coffee shop window last summer. There is even a gang of teenage hooligans called the Kia Boys that goes on Kia stealing sprees after having learned to steal the cars on Tik Tok.
A retired man that I know is moving eight blocks west to get away from the danger. But he is the exception. Most residents are staying put and businesses keep hiring more armed guards. The number of beggars grows and grows.
At the same time, my neighborhood remains conveniently dense. There are three grocery stores and many restaurants within six blocks of my house. It's also beautiful here, in spring and fall especially. Everywhere you look, there are vibrant gardens and flowering trees. It's a nice place, really.
Minneapolis isn't exceptional. Cities across the US have been dealing with their own public safety challenges since 2020. At some point, local governments will have to do something substantive about the social and economic drivers of crime. I feel like we're at least a few years away from that point.
In the meantime, the best most of us can do is to increase our environmental awareness and to build good relationships with our neighbors. Paying attention and talking to people may seem like small things, but they can make a big difference. Robbers look for easy targets, not people who might give them trouble. And if enough people give the criminals trouble, hopefully they'll reconsider their choices.
La France Sauvage: Marseille Moments
Images and text by Roberto Vitali
Berlin
In the past months I’ve been trying to be away from Berlin as much as I could. The main issue: the weather. I guess I’m meteoropathic, maybe it’s my main excuse to travel to warm places during the harsh winter and early spring in the German capital.
Back in February I booked a flight for Marseille to pay a visit to a good friend of mine from high school who moved there several years ago, after having spent many years in London. Once landed in Marseille airport and walked out of the plane, I was hit by a warm gust of wind coming from south. The sea breeze is something I was looking forward to smell. Warm, salty and dry. It instantly brought me back to other places I visited in the south of France during the past years.
The only way to reach the centre of Marseille from the airport located outside the city is by bus. Usually I don’t really like [SA1] it because I can’t enjoy the view while being crammed on the tiny seats among 37 other people with luggage’s and 10L big backpacks. This time, I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised.
As we were getting closer to the city, a lot of high-rise buildings started to overcome the small houses that paved the way around the suburbs of the city area. I’ve started seeing graffiti covering tunnel walls, houses facades and street sides. and I even started to pinpoint graffiti’s that I wanted to see from a closer look and not from the highway[SA2] . Arrived at the central station, I grabbed my backpacked and walked my way towards my friend’s place. Marseille greeted me in the best way it could. I stepped out of the station and stood at the top of the 1920s staircase that overlooks the city. Stunned by the view, you can't help but gaze at the majestic Notre-Dame de la Garde, the highest spot of this French skyline. On the side, on top of a hill, [SA3] a church with a golden Virgin watching over the sea. It immediately brought me back to when I reached the same spot at down many years before, while getting the train home, in Italy.
Many things have changed since then.
…I didn’t read much about it before going there. I was only told by a few colleagues from work that it was a great city with a vibe like the one in Berlin…
It was my first time in Marseille, I remember I didn’t read much about it before going there. I was only told by a few colleagues from work that it was a great city with a vibe like the one in Berlin, that it was multicultural and kinda cheap and [SA4] rough. This description made me want to explore all the different sides of it. Therefore I started to walk around pretty much every neighbourhood, acknowledging all the influences that made Marseille what is it now. [SA5]
The city is a great rumble to live in, it has a widespread urban area with historical architecture among new contemporary and modern buildings, fighting the uncontrolled Air B&B diffusion. The wildness of the famous Calanques is just thirty minutes away by public transports, but what is worth the trip is the people from Marseille, truthful, authentic, giving a unique warmth and vibe to the city. Even on a weekday evening squares and bars are packed and you can barely find a place to sit, but it’s all picturesque when your dominated by Haussmann’s architecture.
It only took few days to understand why people from other parts of France, but also from Europe and abroad, decide to move to Marseille. The city is vibrant, you can feel the energy reversing into the streets, from the alimentation shops at the corners open all day long serving fresh fruits to the noise of all the people, whose talking would from a cloud of different languages words.
I visited a Corse family run bar and ordered a classic pastis, trying to fit in with the locals. I was stood in a daze watching the bartender serving tables balancing on one hand a dangerously high amount of drinks. The mood was set and the pub-crawl could start.
After a round trip of the square’s main bars I got lost in the side streets. Craving for a cigarette I jumped in a minimarket where the owner stated that he was not selling any, but only after a deeper glance at his eyes he turned his back to reach a Talisker cylinder package. He lifted up the lid and handed me a pack of Algerian imported red Marlboros. I took it.
Image by Pieper
Wiener Enthusiasm
by Wolf Vest
NYC
circa 2003
Back when I was twelve, I went into business for myself; I bought my brother’s Six-Packer cooler and roaster oven and set up shop in our family’s motorcycle shop selling hotdogs. As part of the deal, my brother taught me the basics of the wiener trade – which to buy, how to cook them properly, when to arrive, the art of getting a ride, marketing, etc. Nothing could top the flavor of a cheap hotdog cooked crisp under the searing heat of the toaster oven. 60 cents each, two for a dollar. They were hot, baby. Making 20+ dollars a Saturday was a given, though business in wintertime could be brutal.
You never give a wiener away. Never. You could discount at the end of the day, but do not give a mechanic a free hot dog – okay, only if he was a good customer. But very rarely. You don’t want to train people to expect free food.
Once, after a particularly slow day, when I was still a trainee, my brother and I disposed of the left-over Corn Kings by feeding them to a stray dog who had wandered over from the adjoining subdivision. The hungry creature ate twelve wieners, cooked and uncooked, in just a few moments. After which, he promptly vomited, then gobbled that up as well. The hotdogs were so good, he had to have ‘em all twice. Not only were our actions generous, but they were also entertaining as well.
Eventually the management saw fit to hire me outright and pay me to give away free hotdogs which seemed unnatural, but it was guaranteed minimum wage, so why complain? Goodbye to the toaster oven with its unique charring charms, hello steamer filled with blandifying grease-water. The golden days were past, now I was working for the man – my father, to be exact. It went on from there until two years ago, when I finally quit selling things for my family after twenty plus years. A long, underwhelming career founded on a pile of wieners.
Why muse on wieners now?
Just this past weekend, I traveled from New York to Vermont to ski with friends. On the way, I noticed several snack shops and hotdog stands. A flood of wiener culture came back to me when I saw a sign that read “Three dogs $1.39!” “Dogs,” that’s what true hotdog experts call their wieners. “Give me three ‘dogs! Haw! Haw!” I remembered bikers, long dead, barking out the same order. Of course, I would try to get them up to four ‘dogs so they could realize the discount. They usually went for the extra ‘dog.
“wiener – origin early 20th century: abbreviation of German Wienerwurst ‘Vienna Sausage.”
Introducing the wiener! That’s one of the greatest contributions Germanic people have delivered to the rest of the world. Peaceful wieners. Now they are considered completely American. But, of course, American hotdogs are quite different from their forerunners (forewieners) – they’re smaller, more slippery, more mysterious.
Chicago dogs are about the best, but they are truly a ‘dog unto themselves.
Did Upton Sinclair help the wiener’s cause or hurt it? Are we sure rat droppings and saw dust didn’t ADD to a wiener’s mysterious charms? What’s in there now? Ground up everything (except bones – save them for Altoids and Valentine’s Day candies – “Have a Heart!” “Fax Me!”).
Of course, Nathan’s hotdogs are quite a big deal in New York, though now the franchise is packaged with other lesser purveyors of questionable edibles. I’m not a big Nathan’s guy – to mainstream, too corporate. Chicago dogs are about the best, but they are truly a ‘dog unto themselves. These are “star ‘dogs” not the regular, standard issue that I grew up with.
The real wiener winners are places like we’ve got on the corner of 23rd and 6th. Papaya Dogs. I’ve sampled one ‘dog from this establishment, but that’s only because the lines in there are always long, the place always crowded. The ‘dog I had was salty and red, with relish, ketchup and mustard, no onions that time. It was what a hotdog is supposed to be: cheap and delicious. Don’t ask too many questions, just relax and bite into the cult of the wiener.