Do you have a daily ritual that gives you structure or inspiration?
No, I’ve never quite managed the iron discipline of drinking apple cider vinegar first thing or doing a morning yoga session right when I wake up. Every day is different, every day is a new black box. Some mornings I leap out of bed, others I crawl out on all fours. I’m always the biggest surprise to myself when the day begins.
What kind of music do you listen to when you want to focus or reconnect with your creative process?
Music has become a kind of sanctuary when I’m working. Whether it’s classical or electronic, certain sounds help me return to the same mental spaces again and again. I have no idea what’s going on neurologically, and that hasn’t really mattered to me so far. It works, and it’s hard to replace with anything else, even though I do use other techniques as well.
Has there been a book that fundamentally changed your perspective—and why would you recommend it?
There isn’t just one. But I’ve definitely gone through phases where I’ve been really passionate about a certain book and still am. One of the first from my youth was ›Animal Farm‹ by George Orwell, which had a lasting impact on how I think. Years later I read its source description, i.e. ›Die Moskauer‹ by Andreas Petersen, a book that completely pulled the ground out from under me. In hindsight, I should’ve been prepared—after books like ›All for Nothing‹ by Walter Kempowski.
Is there a work of art you would love to have in your home?
›Glückspfennig aus Buchenwald‹ (Lucky Penny from Buchenwald) by Andreas Slominski.
Which exhibition venue in Berlin inspires you?
At the moment, the Gemäldegalerie feels like a magical place to me. From the outside, the building at the Kulturforum is just another unfulfilled promise, like so many ideas from the 1990s. But once you make it through the foyer and step inside, it’s like standing on an incredible stage for art histories. They show exhibitions here that would cause queues and around the block in other cities; you would need tickets purchased in advance. In Berlin, you’re often completely undisturbed. Sometimes it’s just you and the gallery’s security staff, alone with these unbelievable treasures.
Is there an object that accompanies you and reflects a part of your identity?
There probably is, but whatever it might be, it hasn’t revealed itself to me yet. I of course could come up with a great story about a meaningful object that entered my life at some point and never left. But even those things tend to come and go. The bullet-riddled pocket watch from the war, the shrunken head my mad uncle swapped for chewing gum, the nail that blinded a child—those don’t exist. They’re all just in my head, and in my thoughts it’s always a different object each time.
What keeps you going, even in moments of doubt?
Cluelessness. Karl Popper once said, ›Optimism is a duty.‹ But I’m more with Heiner Müller on this one: ›Optimism is just a lack of information.‹
Which personality would you like to have a conversation with—and what would you talk about?
Kevin, Stuart, and Bob from the ›Minions‹—I’d love to chat with them. Otherwise, I’m pretty content in that regard. I prefer to preserve the magic of admired personalities; I don’t need to get to know them too well.
What do you look forward to when your working day comes to an end?
Sleep. Waking up the next morning. New ideas, good conversations…