How Do You Want Your Tombstone To Look Like?
disconnect 008/237: I want my tombstone to be blank.
[27 October 2024]
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A while ago, my girlfriend sent me a video of St. Canisius Church in Charlottenburg that she found online. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to go see this minimalistic, dystopian concrete cube that you wouldn’t expect to be a catholic church in southwest Charlottenburg, not far away from Messe Nord/ICC and the A100.
So last Saturday night, before attending Alaska Brix’s release party for his Young European EP, I decided to preventatively recharge my social battery by taking a walk through this very little-known-to-me part of Berlin all by myself and experience the haunting vibes of St. Canisius church.
Shortly after walking out of the S-Bahn station, I glimpsed into a dimly lit lobby, and my attention drifted toward a showcase full of trophies. I took a closer look and realized it was a high school gym.
As I peered into the empty gym, memories flooded back from my teenage days practicing basketball. Before getting too nostalgic, I continued walking and passed by more showcases on the school gym’s facade, which displayed numerous science project posters. I then stopped in front of another dimly lit window, behind which I saw a cozy interior resembling a living room.
The place I stopped at turned out to be a funeral home, which I found slightly amusing given my recent unplanned visit to the Dorotheenstadt Cemetery - again, I am confronted with (or drawn towards?) the topic of death on one of my night walks.
I looked through the window at the peaceful setting with dark leather armchairs, a small lamp that was the only source of light in the room, a round coffee table, and an areca palm, and I had to think about what people would talk about at my funeral.
With the trophy showcase in the school gym in mind, I wondered if people would talk about what I achieved. Or maybe about what kind of person I was?
Then, after I found it very difficult to even think about answers to those questions, a thought struck me: I want my tombstone to be blank, with only my name in small letters in the bottom right corner.
Why? Let me explain why after I share my experience at St. Canisius Church.
I continued my walk on the mostly empty sidewalks of southwest Charlottenburg, covered in yellow leaves, and stumbled upon the church nestled unexpectedly on a vast plot between residential buildings. I looked at the two sleek, light grey concrete cubes that stared back at me, illuminated by one bright spotlight and the almost full moon, slightly shining through the thick clouds covering the sky.
It was fascinating and surreal, and I experienced a moment of uncomfortable nothingness while sitting on a bench in front of the building, between two small trees that had already lost all their leaves.
I challenged myself to tolerate this unpleasant feeling, and after sitting on the bench for two or three minutes, looking at the church, it went away. In this moment of reflection, I returned to the thoughts I had earlier about how I wanted my tombstone to look.
Why do I want it to be blank?
Because I want people to fill it with THEIR thoughts when they think of me. When they look at it, there is nothing but a blank space that allows room for everyone’s own memories.
I believe we live in a society that doesn’t value emptiness and often does not allow for it. People shy away from potential boredom, reaching for their phones after just a few seconds of doing nothing. Constantly staying occupied has become the norm in both work and personal life, even though embracing emptiness and observing what appears can inspire us more powerfully than any external influence, and it is essential for progress and innovation.
While sitting on the bench and initially enduring, then eventually enjoying the emptiness of St. Canisius Church and its courtyard, and within me, the idea came to me to release a completely stripped-down, synth-only version of 40 Nights in Toronto (s/o to Luki, who contacted me after listening to the synth stem I shared in the last Soda Sundays episode and told me he’d enjoy listening to an entire Soda Paapi ambient album).
With this in mind, here’s another synth recording for you to listen to, which one day could become track no. 3 of 40 Nights in Toronto [OnlySynth].
[media unavailable]
Enjoy your day or night!
glg Soda Paapi
If you have any feedback about my art and/or this newsletter, I’m curious to hear it!
How Do You Want Your Tombstone To Look Like?
disconnect 008/237: I want my tombstone to be blank.
[27 October 2024]
-----------------------
A while ago, my girlfriend sent me a video of St. Canisius Church in Charlottenburg that she found online. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to go see this minimalistic, dystopian concrete cube that you wouldn’t expect to be a catholic church in southwest Charlottenburg, not far away from Messe Nord/ICC and the A100.
So last Saturday night, before attending Alaska Brix’s release party for his Young European EP, I decided to preventatively recharge my social battery by taking a walk through this very little-known-to-me part of Berlin all by myself and experience the haunting vibes of St. Canisius church.
Shortly after walking out of the S-Bahn station, I glimpsed into a dimly lit lobby, and my attention drifted toward a showcase full of trophies. I took a closer look and realized it was a high school gym.
As I peered into the empty gym, memories flooded back from my teenage days practicing basketball. Before getting too nostalgic, I continued walking and passed by more showcases on the school gym’s facade, which displayed numerous science project posters. I then stopped in front of another dimly lit window, behind which I saw a cozy interior resembling a living room.
The place I stopped at turned out to be a funeral home, which I found slightly amusing given my recent unplanned visit to the Dorotheenstadt Cemetery - again, I am confronted with (or drawn towards?) the topic of death on one of my night walks.
I looked through the window at the peaceful setting with dark leather armchairs, a small lamp that was the only source of light in the room, a round coffee table, and an areca palm, and I had to think about what people would talk about at my funeral.
With the trophy showcase in the school gym in mind, I wondered if people would talk about what I achieved. Or maybe about what kind of person I was?
Then, after I found it very difficult to even think about answers to those questions, a thought struck me: I want my tombstone to be blank, with only my name in small letters in the bottom right corner.
Why? Let me explain why after I share my experience at St. Canisius Church.
I continued my walk on the mostly empty sidewalks of southwest Charlottenburg, covered in yellow leaves, and stumbled upon the church nestled unexpectedly on a vast plot between residential buildings. I looked at the two sleek, light grey concrete cubes that stared back at me, illuminated by one bright spotlight and the almost full moon, slightly shining through the thick clouds covering the sky.
It was fascinating and surreal, and I experienced a moment of uncomfortable nothingness while sitting on a bench in front of the building, between two small trees that had already lost all their leaves.
I challenged myself to tolerate this unpleasant feeling, and after sitting on the bench for two or three minutes, looking at the church, it went away. In this moment of reflection, I returned to the thoughts I had earlier about how I wanted my tombstone to look.
Why do I want it to be blank?
Because I want people to fill it with THEIR thoughts when they think of me. When they look at it, there is nothing but a blank space that allows room for everyone’s own memories.
I believe we live in a society that doesn’t value emptiness and often does not allow for it. People shy away from potential boredom, reaching for their phones after just a few seconds of doing nothing. Constantly staying occupied has become the norm in both work and personal life, even though embracing emptiness and observing what appears can inspire us more powerfully than any external influence, and it is essential for progress and innovation.
While sitting on the bench and initially enduring, then eventually enjoying the emptiness of St. Canisius Church and its courtyard, and within me, the idea came to me to release a completely stripped-down, synth-only version of 40 Nights in Toronto (s/o to Luki, who contacted me after listening to the synth stem I shared in the last Soda Sundays episode and told me he’d enjoy listening to an entire Soda Paapi ambient album).
With this in mind, here’s another synth recording for you to listen to, which one day could become track no. 3 of 40 Nights in Toronto [OnlySynth].
[media unavailable]
Enjoy your day or night!
glg Soda Paapi
If you have any feedback about my art and/or this newsletter, I’m curious to hear it!