Chantal Labinski

Lichtenberg, April 2021

The weather on 1 April is so temptingly warm that Berliners immediately take off their winter clothes and walk on in shorts only. Fantastic.

I’ve been slowed down for days by a kind of eye fever, of which the sun gives me over-glaring phantom colours, and so for the time being I only blink from above down out of the windows of the studios. From the 4th floor, at least, there is enough Corona distance. Because my sun shock initially gets in the way of the vague plan to draw people and situations here, I haphazardly photograph the people passing by with their shadow figures. Later I colour the pictures in my current seizure colours. HM… Lichtenberg migraine postcards? I’ll see what I can do with them later. How to Give Something Back to Sunny Lichtenberg.

At Easter I find a lot of red and white in windy Lichtenberg. Various bollards every few metres, red and white traffic orgies, imposing balcony lighthouses. Lots of red on the houses. Brightly bouncing football children and a woman hurrying to the station in a grandiose, red-and-white patterned mackintosh. A quote from the Warhol soup can quote? Wow. Thirty-two curry fries red and white. Definitely a real Lichtenberger. I try to remember her by phantom sketch for later. Luckily there are photophones for the finer details.

There are adhesive foils in the studios that Gesine left here before me. Great! The foils call out a beautiful song with clear colours. Only I don’t understand any of it yet. Outside, April throws snow and tugs at the windows. First I have to think. Perfect weather for meditative reviews of one’s intentions and strategies. I ride my new mini folding bike around the studio for a few laps. That’s not possible at home. While drawing, I brood over my and more general art allergies and love of visual accidents, the madness of every interventionism and the pleasure of trapping. Good camouflage is half the battle. Loud thunderstorm. No one outside except brave pizza delivery men.

Red foil is available in three shades, white is less. Lots of blue, green, violet, hm, no. Then it’s more like this sunny off-white. I draw some detours, hear on the radio about the curfew and someone fleeing from his own party from the police off the balcony. Hospital. New dangers lurk everywhere. But it’s April and everything keeps changing.

At some point I suspect what I want. A little red-white shift it could be.
*** Translated with (free version) ***

May, 2021