I might disappoint you even more

When I started this newsletter in September 2024, I didn’t really know what I was going to write about. Or how often. I had planned to publish once a week. That, of course, didn’t happen at first. By now I’ve at least managed that. So I’ve disappointed myself a little less.

The plan was to write about internet culture and what we call digital art these days. For years, I wrote a column for Monopol. Readers were constantly disappointed. The comments and DMs usually went something like: “Yeah, but why didn’t you...?” Or: “You should have mentioned XYZ.” Most of the time I could make people a little less disappointed. Usually all it took was: “Oh, go read the column. It’s in there. Bye.” In the other cases, people simply wanted a different piece about a different topic. It was a me problem, but not mine.

So when I started this newsletter, I thought people might also want to read something else from me. That’s why I added a small disclaimer: I might disappoint you. Well. I might disappoint you even more. Because I’m writing a novel. There’s a story I want to tell. And over the past few months I realized that I have to write it down. Which probably means this newsletter will become a little more about the books I’m reading. Or rereading.

Over the past few months I’ve interviewed a lot of artists. And almost all of them have goals like showing at Art Basel, exhibiting at MoMA, or ending up in the ZKM collection. At some point I started wondering what my own unrealized project was. That’s how Hans Ulrich Obrist, the superstar curator, very pragmatically describes artists’ dreams in one of his standard interview questions. And I thought maybe I shouldn’t just disappoint myself less. Maybe I could also make myself happy.

For the past few weeks I’ve had a new routine. Every evening at 9:30, my dog Willy stands next to me, waiting for his last walk. After we’ve been out, I go for another walk on my own, listen to music, sit by the water, and write a few pages.

I also thought I should give myself a delusional goal. A slightly ridiculous schedule isn’t enough, I thought. And as we’ve seen with Travis Kelce, the most unlikely things can happen. Lena Dunham should direct the film adaptation. There. I said it out loud.

I just sent my mother a short excerpt. Her reaction: “Okay, so is this a crime novel or a novel?” “A literary novel,” I replied. “Is it fun to read?” I asked. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess you could say that.”

Thanks for your time.

Take care.
Anika