I was born in Pomerania, as eighth and the last child of mother »a plebeian lioness« and father »a nobleman«, right after the war turmoil of previous century. I was looking for the right place for myself, and in my search I went underwater. I rooted the bottom of every nearby lake and sea until I became sickly bored. Ceramic was my next target, although at the beginning I had no idea what was it about. But I was stubborn as a donkey and I managed to be good at it. For most of the time I sat in a pub, observing young chicks and chatting with chosen ones of artists bohemia, providing them with »firewater« and the business went on. I got under cold shower when awaited capitalism fiercely arrived and became the messiah in our landscape. As for me the first effect of it was losing my job and than gaining the interest of a repo man. I decided to runaway in self defence from violence. Since than, the Autumn 1989, I became a professional tourist.
In the meantime I tried to lie at anchor at home offering architectural ceramic. But damn it, I had a bad luck, it was half a century to early. I got into the epoch of raptor capitalism and I didn't survive till the next epoch. So as I was sitting on a pavement in Freiburg, as a social scum, I heard a voice from above: BECAME AN ARTIST! In order to become more effective I changed bridges for those in Berlin. Pampered with success and with the inspiration of St. Peter I put a crown on my head. As a youngster I had twiddled my thumbs and now to catch up with time I got to work to fulfil my life's work standards. In order to reach my audience effectively I invented over one hundred ways of besotting people, why not? Do media have monopoly in that issue? Not at all! Thanks to my perverse ideas I've managed to hand into »cold« Berliners' hands over one million of my boaster products. Damn it! I fooled them to the point that they even paid for it. That money allowed me to make something meaningful. Today I can fill a few exhibitions with my works, unfortunately it is impossible to move some of them. But it preserves them form being stolen or sold for nothing during my lifetime. Fixed with concrete in my ancestral wood castle, they seem quite good. What's more there's still enough to pay those renowned Polish proofreaders for my three books as well as to first league German translators. Even tailors could take something for themselves. And it doesn't matter, everyone cons me – I don't mind, Berlin's folks pay for it. I am off and wait for final call THERE and I don't care about details.
KAISER von BERLIN
(translated by Magdalena Połec)