Mischwald

Art is worse than homesickness, says Thomas Kapielski in Mischwald, his new large volume of prose, a richly illustrated world and work show, laid out as a logbook of a mixed year. At the beginning of this year, he is mistakenly declared dead, and by the end, he writes: "My gravestone shall be adorned with the line: 'Just keep it up!'" What life does to him in between mocks any preview text: Paradoxical states of intoxication in the face of a TV concert by André Rieu, tricky questions about Koran archaeology, or an invitation to "Blattkritik" at Stern have their place just as much as the tipsy confessions of a chef. Members of the artists' social fund, lovingly chiselled portraits of deceased companions such as Emmett Williams, Thomas Schmid, or Ludwig Gosewitz, and last but not least, the simple wish for burial.