I was born in Gmunden, Austria. There was a fountain where we used to bath. And a white Volkswagen with no seats in it, where we used to hide when our parents called us to leave for holidays. Every second year we traveled somewhere to the seaside. Every other year we went to the lake. There was no wind. There was rain and sometimes sun. My sister was a highly talented tailor even in her early years. She sewed me costumes for school. They were green and blue. I loved them. My parents were also highly talented.
I grew up in Salzburg. There was rain and a way along the pond. There were see-saws and there were we, may it have been summer or winter. We played Ice-Hockey on the frozen pond at christmas. We rode our bikes throughout the whole year. Side by side. There was the moor. It was wet and green and you could find places to hide. We smoked cigarettes made from leaves and toilet paper. But there were others.
School was an issue. But we focused on the spare time. There was not much, though. My mother played Tennis. Highly talented. I drew posters for the tournaments. I coloured plans for my father who was a geometer, I was a nuisance. I know now. But he was kind.
Someone said I could be a doctor, so I wanted to become one. Someone said: You have to leave the town. So I gladly left. The new playgrounds would not let me study much. There was no rain. We stayed out all night. We went to the cinema. We talked about geometry and music, someone said, he could play the piano.
Livingrooms and Wienerwald. Bars and call boxes. Hallways and University canteens. Rooms to sit and wait and talk. I would not become a doctor, I would do something else.
I would do the Poetry. Which Poetry would I do? Would I do the Sound?Welcome everybody.
Would I do the Word? Would I do the Image or even the Moving Image?
I would do the Poetry.