November 12th 2023
I try to reconstruct my past, the one between the Revolution and my death. Unfortunately, besides my memory, I cannot find anything other than propaganda material. The fog about my biographical data has been further increased since when the American Universities have fallen in love with socialism or prey to the lobbies of the liberals. All apparently well structured studies about my life are thus biased and if I want to trace a clue about Heidi's book I should certainly avoid looking in the texts of a well reputed scholar. It would perhaps be easier to check the leaflet published by my opponents, those who had taken advantage from such an awkward story, portraying me as the puppet of a jewish magician. Those were the years when antisemitism flourished and any kind of hint that the politburo was ruled by a semitic sect was welcome by many of my political enemies. Especially those comrades who fought beside me and now wanted to get power on their own. I need to make a plan. The easiest way would be to spare enough money to travel to Moscow. Given the current war with the Western powers, it will not be easy, but I suppose that any Russian expat could show me the way. At the worst I will have to take a car and follow a long route through Poland and Belarus. The pretext could be given to me by the Museum itself, I think they will support my enterprise.
The art dealer
My coffin is still empty, while the world is not stopping to publish lovely material to get collected or be put on the market. In France the revue Portfolio is going to invade art bookshops and galleries thanks to the contribution of Invader himself. It is always difficult to find on the market any artwork of his, if not at an exorbitant price after a drop that has been carefully concealed. The only exception being the four works released by Heni this year and not meeting at all my expectations, nor those of many other dealers. Including those so prone to accept even artists able to attract the interest of wannabe collectors, but with a lack of actual taste. Beside Invader, whom I really love, David Shrigley has released two further prints. One being a frog, like those in the fairy tales. The picture reminds me of the effort of a friend of mine. A brilliant computer scientist, now unemployed. To kill the time he has begun to write down a fairy tale for each of the typologies of the official classification. I think the name is ATU and there should be at least two thousand and five hundred different possible stories to be drawn on the basis of such studies. The last pearl of the moment is Ed Ruscha, who coined further combinations of words and shapes. Six new etchings curated by Crown Point Press. My favorite is “Ship Ahoy”, reminding me of the coasts of Ireland and the workers in the shipyard. Another interesting one is “Zot so”, perhaps because of the yellow background.
I should spend the weekend outside the city of Zurich, to explore the town of Horgen and from there to reach Hirzel. The place where Johanna Spyri was born and grew up. I know that the book is in the museum now, and I am aware that I would be welcome if I revealed my identity to the curators. Nevertheless I want to be cautious, because my feeling is that there is much more behind the history of that book that I could imagine. I think about my grandad. He told me how one day the Graf von Pazze, Elena and himself decided to spend a whole day at home, by Elena’s father. The man, who was widowed and quite old, had dedicated most of his life to the studies of theology. Not only the ones approved by the Greek Orthodox Church, nor that of the Roman Catholic Church. He cultivated a particular love for the Kabbalah and the less renowned studies of the islamic sects. Although not so rich, he managed to amass an outstanding private library and get fluent in all of the languages of the post or of the Middle East. My grandad's account describes Elena’s father being fascinated by Lenin’s signature and calligraphy. “It is written with blood, I would have never guessed that the Black Prince of Atheism believes in the Supernatural”. My grandad reported the episode also everytime that he wanted to point out the hypocrisy of the commies. I think about further anecdotes while visiting the city museum of Horgen. IT is small, but interesting and fits my purpose.