on berlin, art
“After the opening we got into a cab and went to a party in Kreuzberg hosted by a fragile, fey artist in a black feathered boa and his bloodshot gallerist, who was wearing a T-shirt that said “Vulva Vaginal Scent” and chewing on lollipops. I texted a friend in San Francisco, described these guys, and asked if they were anybody I should feel pleased to be at a party with. He wrote: FAMOUS GUY SAATCHI ART CAVE OF DICKS. I tried nonchalantly to ask Emilie what CAVE OF DICKS meant and she said that the guy in the black feathered boa had once made a cave of dicks. Actual live dicks. They hung down from unsuckably distant glory holes in the ceiling.”
— From A Sense of Direction by Gideon Lewis-Kraus (Riverhead; May 2012)
