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times new romance is a video work on collective dreams and their aesthetics. Living in Berlin I am part of an ambiguous discourse that is reflecting critically about gentrification, being likewise part of it. Fashion and the question of exposed individuality appear as the downside of dynamics that simultaneously render collectivity. The ambiguous atmosphere that enchants the pavements and neighborhoods in my surrounding resembles a collective dream. The video is based on a series of spoken fragments collected in the breezing summer nights in Berlin’s vogue districts, and is curious about the texture of that collective dream. The dream of waking up.



Here is what I dreamt




Dream of Thursday in July

at the blue hour, your sneakers glow on the gravel. we walk along the airport’s runway, and in front of us, over wilmersdorf, the rain clouds rise. we talk about getting wet, about summer rain, alpine weather, bathing with the water between our legs and hands. about glass spheres and street barricades, and being critical, then quickly about the feeling of a failed performance. about throwing glances around in the theater. everything bright is shining. berlin tempelhof on easter monday twenty twenty-three.




dreamt of hito

a grand castle room with

galleries of steel

that's how it feels to finish art school

I dream

hito plays a concert with her friend


I am shy and feel masculine

afterwards, we fly around

all shy but craving for fame

a great crowd

I've been thinking that all the time, I dream,

that the show will be the act of the evening

hito speaks to me

searchingly friendly

I am ashamed to create illusions of hope

we search for red wine

me and hito

on stained wooden tables, only half-empty glasses

she washes one


I fumble in the dark fridge and offer her something

but she has already found a bottle

embarrassing, trying to please, I notice it in the moment

trying not to blush

I am young and shy

she demands provocation

to be provocative

sometimes you provoke, but only yourself, I say

sometimes there's just no room for provocation, I say

there's nothing more embarrassing than trying to provoke but being unprovocative, and artificially done, that comes then, and the effort, and that's the opposite, I say, that's harmless

then I wake up in the dream, deliberately wanting to think about something else, I dream, at least dream a different dream without hito, without the castle atmosphere, the hazy effort, the uncertainty in the cold white walls

it surely ruins the next day, this dream, I dream-think

I talk about soundscapes and drones and that I actually just want to make films, and suddenly I feel really sick

do we know each other? she asks

and she gets something slightly familiar

she doesn't look at me but listens carefully

a rare gesture


and she tells

she recently saw a film by Marco Polo in Porto

an unknown one

on 16mm

and that you should use that sometime, says her BOYFRIEND, she tells me, while we drink red wine in beach chairs at the seaside of the mediterranean, alone with our feet in the sand





dreamt of witchcraft




Dream on a Tuesday, beginning of September

film screening

of my own film

everything is way too raw, still


and too intimate

with many wrong cuts and questionable scenes

I feel irghh, and I'm nervous, sitting at the front of the stage and looking for familiar faces

at the film school or in babelsberg

people are still there from the last screening

I dream-think

but they don't leave; instead, they come

they’re curious

and I have to present the film

build a framework

about what it is and what it's about

and it's not even FINISHED yet, and P is not there

he keeps on coming and going to somehow fix the SOUND

and nobody listens to me

and the children throw paper balls

they are all children

I try to explain, stumbling and voiceless

I reach no one and speak through the microphone only to myself

it doesn't start because the SOUND doesn't work

in the cinema

and they keep bringing in more chairs and fill the stage with chairs, and it rattles so much from plastic chairs, and the big eyes of the young people are looking at me




Dream in autumn

art school dream TWO

oral exam

hallways full and excited

mrs. H knows when it's your turn

short white hair

way too late

old study regulations

0930 is 1030

I enter


deliver a presentation

talk about the baroque

I easily fill the 10 minutes

I feel relieved

are there any questions left?

do I know feminist theories, also contemporary ones?




A dream Mid-November


mountain hut dormitory vacation spot

upper bavaria?

P knows the owners

the cats

many cloths, textiles, and a bit of the patina of a life unfamiliar to me but it could be my own

sweat from unkissed women

P got already up; we have to leave

clean everything

the others are my class

R S A L N and J and J and a bunch of names

they are there but not really

as if I'm sitting in a capsule with P

we argue, and I drop out

next door, a dirty rave

I claim to know the organizers

a young bouncer consults briefly

I know the organizers

they know me, and I can go in

empty dark sweet

outside, my friends are picking at a flower box

an italian riviera-small-town

P has to work and leave, tearing up and parking his car

he has prepared his room

the sleeping house is unclean, but I'm drawn to the riviera-small-town with the others

„now a beer,“ I say to R, with a voice unfamiliar to me, 

I want to please and don't please myself and go along, and the pills start to take effect

beuys dream

a young woman

a long corridor

she is proud

missing a canine tooth

she tells me since she's doing the interview with him

he is no longer that introverted

he has opened up

he has become understandable

the corridor leads into a bright white conference room

next to the stage, beuys under a wide leather hat





T is in the orient and cannot return

I tell J about the situation, and he recommends me to the office

want a note from the office for T, who is in Iran and cannot come back

enter a long room at the office

J is there 

fatherly and examining

all made of artificial linoleum, but the tables are made of solid wood

it's empty, only a caseworker is sitting there

chair-grown, light-haired, and a little shiny

he makes friendly jokes

yes, his colleagues have already left; it's FRIDAY AFTERNOON

I open up and complain, seemingly spontaneously, about professional existential fears

art and film and video, trying to make it all my profession

short-bio orally

I still have 2000 euros saved, and my parents also contribute, but the PERSPECTIVE

rowing stumbling 

submissive too 

no, so they gave me money 

when I was studying some of it is left

I made a debut film for the cinema but earned nothing from it

suddenly, there's an audience 


lip piercing 

the gaze comes from above 

behind me 

I am embarrassed 

no one wants to hear my complaints, I feel

then I will now say the truth and nothing but the truth 

I dream-say 

he, with whom I live, share my life, my partner, is expelled, deported, and cannot return

notice how I like the queer role

the caseworker listens 

where before he made notes, countered, or contradicted with glances, he now pushes off with his multi-legged office chair and rolls to the filing cabinet wall at the corridor end he enjoys the audience 

opens a drawer and plays with a hand puppet 

he’s a ventriloquist 

it's fun 

the square brown and green hand puppet pulls out a note 

gripping it like kasperle with his gun 

I'm happy 

I convinced him I'm sure it's some kind of letter of support for T it's still in the puppet's sticky hands 

then alarm clock




November 29, 2023 


writing into your sleep

I had such an intense action chase dream in rome and fleeing on garage roofs, and milano centrale stood at the canale grande, and I was afraid to swim and with the vaporetto and the subway, and then I managed a detour and the eye contact of my guards, two young men, and one is P, tears away, and panicking, I have to turn off the gps functions and want to go to the northern port and to the ship, and I have to go to new york, and it has to be new york, only there it's safe, and from the next continent, I'll write to you that everything is fine, and the train station is a church, and I am anticipating some express train that takes me north, and in the eyes of the young woman and her lips speaking german next to me, my adventure is reflected in a sparkling and amusing glance.




December 14 

in Berlin

archive dream

a library or a university room or a basement compartment black wooden cabinets: half-open

I set up 

a monitor with a four-channel video 

I have it with me 

it's already hanging, and you see images and hear: nothing

listen to myself as I tell the narrative 

photo documents


aby warburg

O is already there, and A helps me set up the exhibition 

who is A? 

I am focused and tense 


the video is meager

O extends his speed into the space

then photos on the walls 

they were always there 

most in black and white and 

I wonder

a photo book appears in the video, and O discovers it in an archive cabinet, comes to rest with the picture book, and flips through it

photos from childhood everywhere 

my parents' childhood 

on the walls 

and also in the photo book 

chronicles of the 70s

O is excited

I become proud

I start explaining the photos that 

I have never seen before

tell who took them 

they are from my father or me 

my father often appears in them and 

is very beautiful

my grandma 

that's T, her friend, I dream-say 

that's J and 

now others take over identifying faces in the living rooms of my grandparents 

and schlöndorff 

and herzog 


and amongst it all is you, O

I have gathered the entire archive 

assembled it

then a package of kodak color prints 

a few hundred 

thick stack

me with my parents in portugal 

beach and sea 

and my brother 

and my mother so beautiful and tall

and I take it from O's hands, flipping through 

I feel E's gaze on my cheek 

don't want to show myself as a child 

so bloated and fat 

then I see myself in the pictures 

had forgotten how fat I was 

a child trapped in an old immobile hairy mountain of a body

shy, wearing a red t-shirt on the beach 

feel my parents loving me in their gazes 

they don't see my shame 

listen to them playing with me 

I listen

I dream-think about childhood with its horrors about the fear of my own body

a little is quite normal, being a child, you say

I feel pity and don't believe you




dream of E

schlager concert with you and plush stage design, such large plush tiles in white and pink, it was in praunach or nearby somehow there’s a cover version of maybe sweet home alabama or uptown girl but it's about a woman from praunach and in german we are in the audience looking at each other and I think we'll leave soon but you say I'll get a beer and I say okay and I understand it because the schlager singer is from your art class and then the professor comes and he’s angry at you for allowing such a bad performance to happen and somehow being associated with him and you with a bit of inwardly laughing schadenfreude you let him go on and say it was great and we all drink beer and listen to the next schlager song the crowd cheers the club is full of plastic palm trees and cuba libre and very countryside