Wednesday, May 18, 2005


Bratislava. Again and again. Why don’t I visit Budapest? An easy question. A simple answer. I always like the underdog best.
In Budapest I feel like another person. In Bratislava I feel like me.

Entering the Academy of Fine Arts and Design I am entering the Gerrit Rietveld Academy. It isn’t just the concierge, the long aisles, the classrooms, the ragged toilets. It is this hint of ......... of what exactly? Creativity? Experiment? Freedom? Or is it just the smell of paint and developer?

I meet the head of the Studio of Space Communications. In a way, you could call him the artistic forerunner of Captain Picard or a modern Einstein. His name is Anton Cierny. I forgot to tell him how much I liked the name of his atelier. But it is even better to tell you (yes you).

I am surprised how neat it is. The Rietveld was always just as neat in the beginning of the year. But during the year the corridors would silt up like the veins of a McDonalds addict. Here people work behind doors in smaller and bigger ateliers. I don’t want to intrude. I peep.

I wait two hours for a dvd being burned by a computer seeming to be tired of these fast and furious times. He promises me it will be ready in an hour (“1 minute elapsed, 58 to go”) but decides to take it easy. I don’t mind. Compelled waiting opens up another space and time. Even more when you are in the Studio of Space Communications. It gives me time to talk to Marián, Anton’s assistant and Lucia (sorry if I spell your name wrong). She shows me a handmade starry sky casting spotlights over a none-existing love couple in a gentle pace that must be a relieve for the computer.

After that I walk and walk and walk. I know the city. I don’t know the city. I know the city. I don’t know the city. I walk the streets like a lover tears petals from a flower. In the end it doesn’t matter. The answer is somewhere else. You can only get it from the beloved person herself. Himself. Itself.

The fast train takes me away from Bratislava. But we will meet again.


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