On that side of the brain

I was quite creative when I was young. I used to write songs, make clothes, paint pottery and draw everything I saw. The highlight of my career was Year 12 when I gained fame through my drawings of “Man Of The Week” pro bono in classmate’s school diaries. These sketches were tailored to their personal preferences (Cobain, Depp, Di Caprio, Prinze J – it was 2003, remember), were invariably half-naked (in the PG sense) and were saucily aligned on the right hand side, steaming up Thursday through to Sunday.

But when the time came to make life decisions, I couldn’t justify pursuing art when I had the chance to do law. So I packed away my pencils and got serious. And, sadly, things have remained relatively serious and packed away since then. Until this week, when my Search for Meaning led me to Prenzlauer Berg, up four flights of stairs into a loft and behind an easel for my first life drawing class in years.

Air’s “Moon Safari” playing softly from the sound system was the first thing I was aware of when I walked into the room. An excellent omen. A model lay sprawled on the platform in the middle of the room surrounded by an eclectic mix of artists, some who were painting with oils, others drawing with coal. Everyone was silent, off in their own worlds.

So I picked up an easel and sat down on the ground and started to draw. And even though I couldn’t get the perspective of her legs right and her head looked like it belonged on another body, it didn’t matter – it simply felt great to be drawing again. In the break I felt a little dizzy, but I still managed to butcher the German language with a newly-arrived Korean exchange student and indulge in the pastries and peppermint tea. I am definitely going back.

On another creative tangent, I’ve also started preparations for the Burning Man festival. It’s a long story, but basically I received a scholarship ticket on the condition that I bring a guitar and contribute to the festival by teaching the other attendees German folksongs. While, um, wearing a camel costume.

As my knowledge of German folksongs currently totals zero, the German people in my life have thrown their support behind my endeavour (after having a good ole chuckle, mind). My German teacher Doris burned me her 3 CD collection of 100 Deutsche Volkslieder and circled her favourite ones. My housemate Yvonne has sent me an email full of links to musical/comedy gold from the 1950’s and 1960’s including my personal favourite, Im Wagen vor Mir. This weekend I’m biting the bullet and buying a cheap shit guitar. The camel costume will have to wait until I get past the US customs.

Apart from these happenings, the last week here in Berlin has been stellar. On Sunday I joined 700,000 other Berliners on the Kreuzberg streets for the Karneval der Kulturen, a celebration of multiculturalism which could, in all its beauty and craziness, only happen in Berlin. The best parts? Dancing along the streets as part of a massive portable dancefloor of at least 500 people that followed a float that housed some hell big speakers and a famous techno DJ; an afterparty on a roof high above the festival; and the unforgettably punchy raw-sugar, lime and cachaça combination of Berlin’s signature cocktail, the Caipirinha.

Following the success last week's Audience Participation segment, I have a few more questions for yous:

1. Why is being creative so much fun? and why don't we do it more often?
2. Suggestions on ways/means to make a camel costume? (designs appreciated)