June 11th 2023
I have been invited to a party at the Kunsthaus just to point out how capitalist socialism is the most recent love of cultural elites. Perhaps even monetary ones. My presence would have not been really needed, because there was no time for a public speech. On the stage a good number of artists and technology experts had been aligned as the members of the Ramovs in front of their execution plot. After a few minutes of taking pictures for the social networks, it was my turn to stand up in the middle of the theater. From all around a parody of the soviet anthem was executed by a rock band inspired by some sort of crypto punk monster. They clarified to me they were not strange creatures, but apes and that the digital portraits of these primates could reach the value of several apartments, even given the latest Zurich prices. I could have expected the artists to read some joint proclamation. Nothing like that, if not the clear statement of a multiple number of businessmen to be the first to have conceived a not well clarified way to make money. I felt so useless, that I preferred to go home trying to avoid the guests who wanted to stop by and ask me for a selfie. At least they have been really polite, with no exceptions. They were as polite as Russian aristocrats before the Revolution while communicating with each other. With ordinary people they adopted a different tone, the one that helped me to ignite the troubles. I am quite curious to know how these modern aristocrats would handle their servants, if they had any. Capitalism has transferred the money in the hands of those usually mistreated, with the only exception of the highest upper class. Under such conditions, the Revolution will hardly occur once again.
The art dealer
What a frustrating weekend, catching up with pretending art collectors on behalf of my boss. I had to travel back to Zurich, a city that I can hardly stand because of the far too high expenses. While on a mission, I usually manage to save some of the extra budget on small expenses such as an art book or a collection of high quality tee cans. It is not the case when I work in Switzerland, especially in the German speaking one. I have always questioned my boss that he is doing his calculations on the basis of some old report when the Point was exchanged to three or four Swiss Francs. Now that the Pound is just below the parity, my daily allowance does hardly cover a lunch in the Migros Restaurant. He even advised me to eat at an Indian Restaurant, because such places are usually cheap in continental Europe. He ignores the few Indians within the Swiss borders who are working for the main IT companies and belong to the highest percentile. That actually happens in the U.S. and the British Islands also, but when it comes to being stingy my boss can find out the most creative and anachronistic excuses. Working in Switzerland brings however some advantages, since even the average art lover has got a decent budget to invest and is moved by an uncommon desire to make money on his bet on the art market. Not this time. I found myself attending a meeting of crypto artists, trading their pieces for a few Tezos with the hope to hit the jackpot within a few years. There was nothing for me to do, if not to try to be polite and take part in the lottery with the few Pounds left out of the common expenses.
Back in Zurich, I am feeling so sad. That man that I met in Dresden was so decent, that I could fall in love. The project has however received a sudden stop. We were using only a part of the whole budget and someone directing the portfolio managers decided that the company money should be diverted to those who could take the full advantage of the investments. The golden cross of the Frauenkirche, to which I got so accustomed that it now belongs to my most familiar impressions, is now only a sad memory. I would have liked to spend even the weekends there in the East, on a boat along the Elbe, embarking and disembarking from the small ports in the Sächsischen Schweiz. I am however back in the heart of Switzerland, the original one, far away from the Ossie accent. Perhaps a Volksfest could help me, at least to recover the authentic atmosphere of a Beergarten. I am now feeling in Zurich like Heidi in Frankfurt. I am not away from the mountains, but I would like to walk along the banks of the German rivers, listen to the hits of the 1980s, those still so popular at the Oktoberfest. Last year, at the company Summer Party, I dared to ask one of these hits to the band playing for us. The reaction was so harsh, that I preferred to take the path of the gin tonics. Alcohol did not help me to understand Swiss German, nor the musical taste of the 2020s Swiss Youth. It is quite Midnight and tomorrow is going to start a new working week. I hope it will bring some good news, from Zurich or from Dresden.