#60
 
 
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We played football together. In Munich. In the same team, however, not in the same half of the pitch. I was a classic striker, waiting for passes from my mates at the front, Niko was always at the back, a hard-hitting Vorstopper. Both positions do not exist in [more]

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I first met Emily in Beirut in 2006. We were invited to the Levant in the context of a rather badly organized art event curated by a player in the Beirut art market. My partner and I were underwhelmed but as soon as we were introduced to Emily [more]

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We have not met in months. We fix a meeting via SMS. You make a little fuzz at first because I want to meet you in my neighborhood. You write this SMS: “I also always ask my friends to meet me right infront of my door”. I laugh [more]

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She reminds one of the black-haired girl from the café in Lindsay Anderson’s film “If…”, holding a machine gun and shooting from the cathedral’s roof of the university at the fleeing professors below. Marcia Farquhar burns endlessly. A star on rocks brought by the mothership emerging from Earth’s [more]

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I call Clara Meister Sugar Glider. Early in our affair of the heart and mind she showed me a video where the little creatures poke at jello, much as clara (S.G.) has been poking at me ever since. It is very cute and very disconcerting to see this [more]

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It was just before Viertel Nach Handgelenk was published when I met Pippin for the first time in a mansion above the lake of Constance. We used to call it G7, since the owner had a G in his name as did the street, and it had a [more]

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Growing up somewhere in the middle of the second post-war generation in Germany came along with the experience that people around you more so avoided rooting their lives too much in the past, but rather tried to emancipate themselves from any sort of familiar tradition or historical burden. [more]

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“So much for being optimistic. They say love is in the air, so I hold my breath until my face turns purple.” raps Lil Wayne in a Drake song called Hell Ya Fu**in Right. It was on a drive from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem when Tobias was repeating this [more]

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There are people who never take their black Burberry coat off at a party. It is hot, incredibly hot, and still, those people are standing around in their coat, holding a drink. Other people, let’s call them the half-naked ones, are mocking them, but they don’t get it. [more]

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Judith Vrancken lives between Berlin and Amsterdam, mostly because Amsterdam continues to pull her back after years of living there as a university student, and Berlin won’t let her go. In any case, she is present in both. Born on the German–Dutch border, she’ll likely straddle the two [more]

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There was a time at the beginning of the Millennium in Switzerland when the word “Wachstumsschwäche” was all around. The 1990s were dubbed the lost decade. It seemed that everybody except the little island of wealth in the heart of Europe moved on. An American style think tank [more]

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We had this kind of Blind Date you sometimes have with people you should work or start a project with, people everyone talks about saying: You two should meet. We missed our Blind Date several times before we finally bumped into each other by chance in an event [more]

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There are moments and images that burn themselves into your brain, no matter how important, how good, how bad they are, they just do. They want to be there. They hit whatever combination is needed of your synapses in that moment to stay there. I had this particular [more]

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Laurenz is a matador in the bullring of the literary world. I first met him at the swanky bar of a swanky hotel during the London Literary Festival. He’d been cheering on my first novel from the sidelines. We talked. We clicked. He was an editor, I was [more]

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People are frightened of you. It’s like as if Zombies were terrified of the living. They can sense your autonomy and they know, in a way that they do not frequently know things, that you are capable of any act that you determine upon. We are not aliens. [more]

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I met Theresia at a party during Berlin fashion week two years ago. Basically by accident. I was just in town visiting some friends. In Munich a couple of days before Ayzit (Bostan) had told me that she’ll be at the Bar Tausend that evening and encouraged me [more]

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David Baum is not of his time, and it would be easy to say that he is a person from the 19th century as this was, after all, the Austrian century, in a way – well, it was maybe over by then already and ended for good or [more]

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Dieses hybride Leben zwischen Berlin und Istanbul, wie oft habe ich diesen Wunschtraum erzählt bekommen. Hier und da sein zu können, das Beste aus beiden ziehen. Das Leben als ein Mix aus zwei großartigen Songs gewissermaßen. Guelriz Egilmez hat es einfach gemacht. Einfach ist natürlich irreführend, weil es [more]

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What you basically try to do when you write a personal portrait of somebody is you make a kind of retrospection that, too often, turns into an introspection. Where did you meet? Do you know that person? What did you talk about? Did you talk about anything? The [more]

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It was a Thursday afternoon. Julian and I started a short conversation on Twitter about the fact that 60picks were to be gone after people have finished their 60 days (Julian was regretting it, I said they are meant for the moment, not for eternity). The next day [more]

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I have never talked to Ashley in person. Of course that’s not strange at all. We met on Oliver Polak’s Facebook page. One of us made a joke about Kant being a little shtetl boy by the name of Imre Kantele who grew up to be a comedian [more]

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She drove all the way down with a Greyhound bus from New York City to México, D. F. How long does it take? 100 hours? 100 years? 100 years of solitude. We met in Puebla, Volkswagen city, near the Popocatépetl. We had dinner with guys from Quebec, and couldn’t guess a [more]

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When David and I talk about Berlin, we agree on one thing: Berlin is a city of strivers, not of dreamers. In 2009, David was a performer splitting an apartment in Neukoelln with two friends. “I play music and dance really crazy, like a worm,” he explained to [more]

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The varying basics of talking and thinking about football are informed by your home team and by the times you live in. Tobias’ home team is Munich (as is mine) and he (and I) underwent the first big trauma in May 1999. It was Wednesday night and Bayern [more]

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There is something about Munich which might have gotten lost a bit in the last, say, ten years – with the onslaught of Berlin, with the draining of people, this constant trickle of creativity leaving a city which was once built on the very notion of Geist und [more]

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Whenever I meet Fabian it’s like Vienna in the last days of World War I. I always arrive a bit too late at the coffee house, because he’s expecting that from me. There is always some sort of rage inside of him, even when he appears to be [more]

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When you are over your Nietzsche obsession, leaving Sils-Maria behind, passing by Lake Sils, and reaching the Maloja pass, you will be finally able to see her. Maira. She flows west through the Val Bregaglia into Italy, sourcing Lake Como, and finally reaching the Mediterranean Sea. But she [more]

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I knew Nikolai from a distance. He was part of the artist duo Future 7 with Florian Wojnar and Future 7 worked on the relation between collector and artist. With his great name and his great moustache I guessed Nikolai would spend his days in cafés reading Raymond [more]

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It was in the very last hours of the year 2010. Maybe eight hours to go. Year 2010? Was it a good year? What did you do? We were standing at the offspring of the artificial river Cheonggyecheon in Seoul. It was unbearably cold. Soohyun explained her native [more]

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I’m forced to write this text. The various headquarters of 60pages inform me on a regular basis that this text is missing. But it’s hard to write about a person that you have known more than 15 years but you lost track of several years ago – the [more]

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What is it about a voice? In writing, that is. A tone, a freshness, the originality of youth, a need to stick out, the impertinence of the newcomer. You read something and remember that you read it only after you read something like that again. Then you realize, [more]

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Xifan and I became friends in 2011 during a reporting trip in the Chinese countryside. I am a documentary photographer based in Shanghai, at that time we just started working on a story on the gender imbalance in China that got published later in Stern. Xifan and I were on [more]

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I met Stanley three days ago for the first time. Should I call him ‘Schtinter’? That’s how he signs his mails and since we met he calls me ‘Roth’. That might be a promotion after we had two beers (große) together. Petit gave him my contacts because Schtinter [more]

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We sat in an Izakaya in Tokyo on a Friday night and every time Fabian wanted to order a single thing (beer, shōchū, yakitori) he got two of the same. He said hitotsu (Japanese for one thing), and got futatsu (2) all the time. It was mysterious. And [more]

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Alex and I share both our office and our birthday. This combination has led to one of my favourite birthday parties so far. The party gives a good impression of Alex’s character. First of all it is hard to imagine Alex not celebrating his birthday. When some of [more]

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It was a place where you speak English when you order and are surprised if the guy behind the counter who might or might not have been gay – it is hard to tell these days with the fashion in beards – answers in German. I had never been [more]

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The first time I met him, I think, was at the store or gallery that he used to have on Potsdamer Straße before it became Potsdamer Straße. He was standing in the middle of all the furniture that he was designing at the time, lamps and tables made [more]

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I first met Brittani Sonnenberg in 2081. In the stuffy dark attic under the roof of the Kunst-Werke in Berlin she was reading a text on retro-future for Georg’s and Christopher’s congress “What happened in 2081?” while downstairs other members of the gang were collecting an archaeology of [more]

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Nimrod Kamer is the most weird son of this most beautiful Ashkenazi Israeli mother, and the legend goes that I had a one-night-stand with her eleven months before he was born. He is ice-cold and confusingly Jewish in his Israeli Un-Jewishness and utmost skinny. He looks like an [more]

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“JA: REILLUMINATION macht SINN, denke ich.” This was the first email Marcus ever sent me, if I remember correctly. I was working on a translation of one of his texts – “Antigone’s Beauty”. In our correspondences, which are usually swift, minimalist and technical, Marcus uses CAPS LOCK to [more]

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Let’s get down to serious business: she is the mind you can’t miss but can’t get hold of. She intrigues with profound silence and clever observations. She is the one that knows everything without you ever seeing her actually wanting to do so. She writes psychological theses and [more]

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Jossi is the kind of guy who will wear a greenish tweed trouser by Dries van Noten from 2008 and a purple sweater by Acne from 2011 over a yellow, yes, yellow shirt by Prada from 2001 and a jacket by Helmut Lang, this kind of felt that [more]

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“Difficult Fun”––two words that describe Bob Last best. “Bob Last, The Man from Fast. The sound of serious young men. The definer of Post Punk,” says Bill Drummond of the KLF in his memoir 45. Fast Product was Bob’s record company, which released singles by the Gang of [more]

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Some people say that Sandra grew up in the Dolomites, could ski before she could walk and studied architecture and landscape architecture in Italy, the US and Germany. Little do they know. Sandra comes from the future, that’s all you need to know. Everyone feels at home somewhere, [more]

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We asked Holger if he could write some tec-picks. If he can show #60 from the other side. What is behind a website, behind a blog system or a WordPress page? In his lectures in Canada in 1980, “Introduction à une véritable histoire du cinéma,” Jean-Luc Godard said [more]

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“SAM CHERMAYEFF. SPY OR COMMANDO FOR HIRE”, says a business card Sam’s father Ivan designed for him when he was a boy. When I first met Sam (we briefly bumped into each other a couple of days earlier), he was wearing a headscarf and guarding a Pierre Jeanneret [more]

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The thing with Eva is, you wouldn’t know it to look at her – whatever exactly it is. Tall. Shy (but not as shy as her little brother Jack). A researcher and a curator (even if these days that is a dirty word). Born in London, EW now [more]

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I love travelling with Martin. He is funny, he is calm, he is out there in the world because he wants to see. It is out of curiosity that he gets out of bed in the morning, it is out of curiosity that he takes pictures. He is [more]

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I met Amanda three times in my life (at least recorded times). The first time was in Bern at the Aare river (nice river, hellish city). The second time was in Hasenberg, near Zurich, in a Japanese restaurant (nice food, hellish interior). And the last time was two [more]

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I met Dominique through Yoshi. There was a time when Yoshi got to know dozens of new people every weekend. That was in the age before my first cell phone. Dominique called me once at home and my sister was taking the call. She said Dominique called. I [more]

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Gina sat one evening on the sink in my kitchen, when I lived at Agnesstrasse in Zurich. She sat next to Ronnie. I knew Ronnie for a long time, but I didn’t know Gina. (You will always find me in the kitchen at parties, listen to this song [more]

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Is everybody reading James Salter these days? Dirk Kurbjuweit of Der Spiegel, the voice of reason in politics, just shook his head in admiration as he talked about Salter*s work. Our dear friend Finn Canonica of Tages-Anzeiger Magazin can go on and on about how manly this writer [more]

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How can you speak (or write) about the unspeakable? I hate people who do that. People who tell me their dreams. More often than not ending with the line: “I can’t describe it.” Right, don’t! It would be like showing the invisible. The great Ivan Lendl once said: [more]

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I knew her long before I met her. Aino was everywhere; her name was in the air. Aino. Everybody in Berlin knew her and really loved her. Everybody had this little Aino-story to tell. They said how strong she was and how beautiful. They told me how she [more]

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In a way it is summer wherever Murat is going. Is it that he is, in my memory, almost always wearing shorts, a rare thing to pull that off anyway in a dignified manner? Is it that he is, in my memory, rarely wearing socks in his shoes, [more]

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I understand Paul Feigelfeld to be quite a sensitive man. By this I mean weirdly intimate. He’s apt to find your inner angst and discuss it at length with a true willingness to solve it. He has a rare empathy that sets him part from your average Facebook [more]

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When I recently met Jeet in Delhi, he could have gone as a mafia don of Bombay´s underworld in the 1970s. But then I do not know a single gangster who would be such a blessed multi-talent and such a colourful character. As a neo-novelist, performance poet, songwriter [more]

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When I saw them in Munich they looked gorgeous and at ease because they were at home in this city that they had charmed into loving them and sometimes worshipping them with a vengeance for their nightly ceremonies, a court following in their dynastically inclined city which seemed [more]

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Die aktuelle Ausstellung in der Kunsthalle Düsseldorf, deren Leiter Gregor Jansen seit drei Jahren und für weitere fünf Jahre ist, die aktuelle Ausstellung heißt “Leben mit Pop. Eine Reproduktion des Kapitalistischen Realismus”. Das ist erstmal ein sehr schöner Titel voller Gegenwart und Ironie. Nicht nur, weil das, was [more]

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I know Mavie from the time she lived in Berlin. She had a small dog called Attila (like her great-uncle Attila Hörbiger, the Dienstmann in the Third Man, or was this his brother Paul? It was the father-projection of Isabelle Adjani in Claude Miller’s film The Eye Of [more]