The tint my hairdresser put in my hair will gradually work its way, over the years, down to the ends of my hair, and perhaps eventually it will be cut off. But IT will be in there, this morning in Berlin when I sat in a barber's chair over Hitler's death place getting my...
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May it be the Shechinah who dwells now at Terezin. I have nothing to say tonight.
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At the Spanish Synagogue in Prague today, extinction-porn tourists gathered round an unexpected attraction: schoolboys from Israel. “Look – LIVE Jews!!” As if a sabre-tooth tiger had appeared, or a Pterodactyl, or a Comanche princess. Cameras clicking in their faces. Children pointed. Muttering spread throughout...
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On Sunday 11 July, the Oberpfälzer KünstlerHaus outside Regensburg, Germany, will exhibit my works-on-paper, and I will read from my recently-released book of photographs and a long prose poem: Schwarzer Tod...
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The painter and soul-brother-of-BumbleMoth Paetrick Schmidt and I have a month long two-person show opening this weekend at Schloss Plüschow on the beautiful Baltic coast here in Germany. Our ongoing collaborative...
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Last night I took the night train through Bavaria into Munich. I had the high bed, right at the top of the car. It was late, and we closed...
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This summer I am a resident artist in the very tiny village called Schwandorf …well, let’s just say “somewhere in Bavaria” and we...
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This morning I was taking photographs of the small tributary of the Danube that runs behind my studio, and when I turned around to adjust my films, I saw...
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Between my first and second day working at the Old Jewish Cemetery in Florence, someone came with a scythe and cut down the tall grasses – within hours the...
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Outside the gates of Florence, there is a small Jewish cemetery – crumbled and broken gravestones can be read only by a familiar eye. In this nearly abandoned and...
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In the early 1940s, my grandfather raised homing pigeons in a small town in rural Virginia. During the Second World War, he was a conscientious objector and refused to fight....
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I arrived in Munich in a rainy winter’s June morning, and twenty-four hours later was on the train out of Marienplatz and bound for Dachau. In a place made...
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