It’s September 9.
I am in Milan, in navy-blue linen bed sheets.
I woke up at 4 a.m. from excitement because it was my birthday. Especially because I would never again be 32, but would spend the entire year being 33 – Jesus’s age, holy.
So I entered the day with that feeling and headed to the airport, as I had a flight to Berlin at 9:30.
Finally, I made it to the gate.
I sat down and waited. I ate an apple.
In the boarding line in front of me stood Pierpaolo Ferrari and his beautiful wife. We recognized each other from Hydra, where we had met earlier this year. I had been enchanted by their daughter, whose name is India. I showed them a selfie of her and me together that I had taken on Hydra and told them that I would love to have a daughter like India, because she is special. They were happy to hear that.
We got on the plane. Everything went perfectly. Finally, we landed in Berlin.
I received a message from Sergio:
HAPPY BDAY, write when u arrive in Berlin
I wrote back: just landed
He ordered me a taxi, which brought me quickly and safely to his house, where he was waiting for me with a gluten-free cake and a little candle. That moment moved me so much. I don’t know whether it was more because of the gluten-free cake or because of the aesthetics of the candle, which looked as though he had stolen from Anai’s last birthday.
I was so happy that I think my dopamine was shooting far beyond the legally permitted limits. We went upstairs to eat the cake, and Sergio made a beautiful tea.
we drank it and then went to the rehearsal and site visit at Hamburger Bahnhof, where Sergio had invited me to perform – to create a sonic situation called SONIC PILL/OW as part of Berlin Art Week.
but there were a few other reasons for my stay there too: my birthday, September 9, which I wanted to experience throughout the entire day with people I love, then negotiations for my upcoming projects in Berlin, and among other, to see the opening of Cattelan’s exhibition, which had been heavily announced for September 9 at 9 PM.
back in 2024, he sent me very poetic b – day postcard:
So this year, I decided to believe in the witty illusion that his opening was inspired by the hypnotic effect of my date of birth 09.09 and that he had chosen to open the exhibition on exactly that date, at exactly 9pm.
There is, of course, no evidence whatsoever for this. Which is precisely why I prefer it. So I decided, entirely by myself, to consider the opening a great birthday gift from him to me haha, some gifts arrive disguised as coincidences, and some coincidences, if you are imaginative enough, can be promoted to gifts.
So, technically, he gave me the entire exhibition. Very generous of him. I accepted it, of course. It seemed rude not to haha.
And I gave him something too – a letter. When it’s my birthday, I choose to give something to someone, because only what you give is truly yours.
After the sound check, Sergio and I rode to their office. On the way there, Sergio called Ruggero Pietromarchi, whom we had been missing in Berlin, so we called him just to tell him that. He said that he missed us too.
Then we arrived at the office, where Erica welcomed me with the most beautiful, oversized bouquet in pastel colors, almost bigger than me.
The bouquet moved me so much. Everyone at the office welcomed me with such care and tenderness.
Then Sergio entered his parallel dimension of phone calls, emails, meetings and everything happening simultaneously, but he ordered me to choose the glasses I wanted and an Inneraum bag, while loudly repeating:
“PAPI GUARDA.
PAPI GUARDA.
PAPI GUARDA.”
I chose the glasses and the bag. I spent about an hour choosing. It was not an easy decision. Erica assisted me.
In the end, I made a good choice. I was very satisfied and happy, while birthday messages kept arriving in parallel, flooding my phone and completely burying me.
How much I love my birthday. On that day, everything feels so beautiful, easy, effortless, flowing. You feel that everyone loves you that day. Nobody hates you. Nobody judges you. Only love. I aspire to make every day feel like my birthday. I wonder if that is possible. It is. I am a realistic person. I believe in miracles.
I spent the whole day with Sergio, his Chinese friend whose name I have forgotten but her energy I still remember, and some guy whose name I have also forgotten and energy too.
At 5:30, we went to a reperformance of Trisha Brown company – Walkng on the Wall (1971) and another performance by Kiani del Valle at Neue Nationalgalerie.
Sergio introduced me to many people there. Among others, I met Katherine, who was wearing particularly beautiful Nike sneakers with a green glazed finish. That caught my attention the most because I love the color green. Then we introduced ourselves. She is very tall, and I like tall people. We chatted for a little while, and I found out that her official job title is: ENERGY DIRECTOR. That completely delighted me. I told her it was the first time I had ever heard that job title and asked her if she got her salary directly from the universe on the first of every month. We laughed, and then I seriously told her that it was one of the most beautiful things I had heard that day. Then we exchanged WhatsApp numbers and realized that we had very similar details in our WhatsApp profile photos: me with a green cabbage hat, and her with green glasses.
Afterwards, we went to another gallery, but got stuck in Berlin traffic, so Sergio decided to change direction and we went to a Chinese restaurant instead.
Sergio ordered almost everything on the menu, and that was when I tried the most delicious mapo tofu of my life. I completely lost my mind over it.
So full and happy, we went back to the Neue Nationalgalerie for Cattelan’s grand opening. The line stretched from the street, all the way around the entire building of the Neue Nationalgalerie and to the main entrance. My friends Zorica, Ivana and Branka were waiting for me there. Everything felt strange and unnatural – protocols, security, procedures. We saw that there were three different lines, or three entrances: one for ordinary mortals, one for the guest list, and one for the press. We tried to get in all, on my pretty eyes alone, and my name was on the list, because of God’s will (Klaus), but the German system was impenetrable. We all wanted to skip the lines immediately. No one wants to wait, especially not Godot.
Technically, I enter through side door of destiny.
Emergency entrance, through the glass.
Mies van der Rohe built a masterpiece for himself.
And this creates a strange problem for everything that comes after.
Any work of art placed inside the Neue Nationalgalerie is, from the beginning, predisposed to failure. The building has already achieved its perfection. It does not merely contain the work. It looks at it.
But there are artists who understand that the only possible response to such a building is to think harder.
To try to reach Mies.
Or at least to keep pace with him.
To enter the building not as a guest, but as an interlocutor. Perhaps this is what it means to exhibit here: not to overcome Mies van der Rohe, which would be absurd, but to make the attempt.
To place one mind beside another. And see what happens.
I went in briefly, to feel the temperature of the works on display.
Nothing happened to me, except for the crowd of people and the voices reverberating through the space. That’s why I don’t like openings. You can’t really see the work because of the people and the superfluous noise they make. Half of what we say is meaningless, anyway. There should be a new rule for all public openings:
Silence.
It should be the first condition for entry. You are allowed in only if you promise not to open your mouth.
That would actually make it a real experience.
Suddenly – the fire extinguisher. Inside the ash of Cattelan’s friend. That moved me so. Because I knew the context behind it.
The object is no longer simply an object.
Cattelan, like Michelangelo Antonioni, knew this:
that a room,
a wall,
a landscape,
even a fire extinguisher
could become almost a character.
Inventor e legislatore.
So how does a fire extinguisher become poetic?
It simply waits there, holding its silence, holding its history, almost an Antonioni shot. The kind of shot Pino Farinotti would have had something to say about, and I suspect Fabio Mauri would have called it good taste, with better lighting.
Emergency Exit.
The temperature outside the Neue Nationalgalerie was sharp and cold.
After, Julia Stoschek Foundation, where decadence was waiting for us.
There we ran into Diego, Miloš Lolić’s love. We were incredibly happy to see each other, we took a stereo selfie and sent it to Miloš, and we decided to go directly to the club for Maurizio’s after-party.
Ivana and Branka went home because they were travelling to Thessaloniki, while Zorica, Diego and I got into an Uber and went to the Watergate, I mean new Silencio club.
We were on the fast guest list, thanks to Dixon. At the entrance, they gave us Cattelan’s familiar necklace-like passes, with:
We went inside. Noise, smoke, and an enormous number of beautiful legs – girls, boys, trans people. Sergio and Ludovica arrived too and we waited for Valentina Magaletti, whose flight was delayed. We waited, and eventually she arrived. Diego and Zorica disappeared somewhere into the fog, but we stayed in touch the entire time through WhatsApp.
Valentina arrived visibly exhausted and angry because the organizers hadn’t even given her a glass of water. Valentina decided she wasn’t going to perform under those conditions. Fuck it – Sergio, Ludovica, Valentina and me went upstairs to the backstage, When we entered the “green room,” all the organizers and the owner of Silencio Club, Arnaud Frisch, were there, alongside Richie Hawtin, Bashkka, Aleph, Miura, PRSMC, and many familiar and unfamiliar faces.
…
In a calm and gentle tone, Arnaud Fisch apologized to Valentina for the unpleasant situation, and Valentina eventually decided to perform after all. We went back downstairs and the magic began. If it hadn’t been Valentina, that after-party would have been a total miss for me. Everything else was a classic after party, but Valentina gave a special note and color.
At the entrance, we ran into Klaus, Lisa and Cattelan. He was surprised to see us there and said in his Italian : “BENVENUTI!”
I took the rolled-up letter out of my bag and slipped it into his right pocket without saying a word. Later, we ran into each other again. I discreetly checked his pocket with my left hand and told him: Don’t lose it. It’s very important. He rolled his eyes, traditionally. And then we all wandered through the fog and smoke.
Valentina finished her magical set, and Richie Hawtin followed immediately after her. At first Richie was boring and slow, but then he entered some kind of story, some kind of rhythm, some kind of tempo – and we went along for the ride.
I entered one of my own dimension, using body techniques and a practice by Mary Starts Whitehouse’s called ”Authentic Movement” combining with ”Deep Listening” by Pauline Oliveros, I had explored with Sasha Waltz and Guests company the previous year.
Then our eyes met again. Maurizio and I looked at each other and spoke through our eyes. Little by little, he moved closer to the place where I was standing. Suddenly he was very close, almost directly in front of me, but he was standing with his back to me, so I could see up close whether Shinichi had cut his hair well and how many more grey strands had appeared. I was dancing on a raised platform, so for the first time in my life I was taller than him, and not so first time so close that I could almost breathe on the back of his neck.
I did nothing except lightly touch his spine with the tips of my fingers. He turned around and looked at me meaningfully, with a look that said that touch was familiar to him, as if some part of him had been waiting to recognize it.
Then I closed my eyes and continued dancing in my own dimension. After that, I didn’t see him again. He disappeared into the fog, smoke and crowd.
Later,
as I was heading downstairs to go to the toilet, and I ran into Rossella Farinotti on the stairs, a curator and a friend of Maurizio’s whom I had recently met via email, regarding the potential idea for a sonic installation on the island of Filicudi, for the art community she founded with Maurizio, called Mal di Mare.
We chatted for a little while through the fog, the smoke, and the noise coming from the downstairs and upstairs rooms. From the moment I saw her in person, I realized there was something quietly charming about her. I liked the way she spoke – slowly, with no need to hurry toward the next word.
I have always loved that kind of speech: words allowed to take their time, as if even the ‘silence’ within the noise of the Silencio club were part of the conversation, and then we exchanged WhatsApp numbers. I told her that I would be in Milan until December because I’m currently on the Viafarini residency programme.
We ended up giving each other a very sticky hug, since we were both already sweaty and exhausted from dancing, and said we’d see each other in Milan.
At a certain point, I could no longer feel my legs from exhaustion. I looked at the clock, It was around three. I decided to go home. I took one of Zorica’s keys that opens every door – the entrance door and all other doors. This has never happened to me before: having one key that can unlock every single door.
I ordered an Uber. On my way out, I ran into Roberto Bruno, who wished me a happy birthday and when I stepped outside, the cold, sharp Berlin air hit me, followed by the warmth of the Uber car.
I arrived home.
I paid €15.67 for the Uber, got out of the car, unlocked the door, climbed to the third floor, took everything off, and collapsed into the warm, soft bed.
Everything I had wanted that day, in the end, was simply to lie down.
And before I closed my eyes, I realized I am 33 now, and I fell asleep with the biggest smile on my face.
Holy smile.
Holy dream.
Holy life.