Kore mit den Mandelaugen // trust Your ability to find space
disconnect 022/237
[11 May 2025]
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About two weeks ago, I visited the Abguss-Sammlung Antiker Plastik at the Freie Universität Berlin on a Thursday afternoon.
It was quiet when I arrived around 3 PM. A young man behind the counter, a couple in their twenties buying postcards adorned with sculpted faces, two women at the end of the room, sketching sculptures that were lined up on the shelves. An older man, perhaps 65, arrived shortly after I did and asked the young man behind the counter about the collection. The young man explained that the main area was closed due to recent renovations. He added that Thursdays are typically calm, with weekends drawing more crowds.
Originally, I planned to visit on Saturday, but a spontaneous schedule change led me there on Thursday instead. A good decision. I continued to listen to their conversation and heard that the main area may reopen the following weekend. Still a good decision?
Initially disappointed by the closed main area, I chose to curiously explore what was available, rather than ruminate on what I missed.
The sheer number of sculptures in one room was initially overwhelming. I wandered through the first [and on that day, only] exhibition room with a soft gaze, absorbing the atmosphere. It reminded me of my experience at the Stadtbad, where I temporarily felt lost in the neverending cycle of 150 video loops in digital frames.
One cast stood out: Kore mit den Mandelaugen. Unlike the others, it had intricate details and a yellowish hue, contrasting the smooth, white surfaces surrounding it. A sign indicated it was the sculpture of the month.
I briefly considered asking the young man behind the counter at the entrance about the Kore mit den Mandelaugen but wasn't in the mood for conversation. Later, I researched it and discovered that this sculpture wasn't a replica—it was an original.
[Several exhibition placards discussed how casts were once undervalued and even destroyed in the early 20th century for not being originals. Now, they're appreciated again for their educational value.]
I regularly have moments where I become aware [in-]authenticity. I believe I don’t feel a connection to most people because they aren't themselves. It's not their fault though; this hyperconnected world makes being fully ourselves difficult.
Maybe that's why we're in each other's lives—we're seeking lives that are authentically ours, regardless of societal norms or external expectations. That's why we’re gravitating towards each other.
Since deciding on the date and location for the 40 Nights in Toronto premiere, my mind has been flooded with thoughts and ideas. On the night of Wednesday, April 29, I wrote in my journal:
Both this morning when I meditated and this evening when I did yoga, my mind was cluttered and overly active. I have many different things on my mind, and they’re unorganized. And it could be related to the fact that I’ll go to London for a few days on Friday [until Tuesday]. I’m trying to squeeze everything into less days this week because I don’t know what I’ll find time and space for when I’m in London -> accept uncertainty! + trust my ability to find space. Important: organize ≠ plan. -> priority for thurs.
The following day, I erased all my morning plans. Initially, I thought about decluttering my mind by reviewing task lists and notebooks, writing down lingering thoughts. I went on a walk instead, sat on a bench in Stadtpark Steglitz, listened to birds chirping and watched a willow sway in the breeze. I realized I didn't need to do anything. I just needed to let my mind empty itself.
Imagine swimming in the vast ocean with no land in sight. Would you swim energetically toward an unseen destination? You might exhaust yourself and drown. Instead, relax and float—maybe swim slowly—and let the currents guide you to the shore.
On May 6, on the plane back to Berlin from London, I remembered my initial vision for 40 Nights in Toronto: presenting it as an exhibition.
In an attempt to simplify and create something adaptable to various spaces, I had moved away from it over the last months.
The space between me and my daily life, my daily routines, and working continuously on 40 NiT brought me back to what I envisioned shortly after I started the creation process, shortly before I left Toronto.
I envision a way of experiencing music that's relaxing, grounding, and calming. A way of experiencing music that inspires you, and shows you new perspectives on life. Something that focuses on the music but expands beyond it. A way of experiencing music that feels like visiting an exhibition in a museum on a rainy day (or on an incredibly hot day when you need a place with air conditioning).
Creating this is what my vision for 40 Nights in Toronto is about. It will be an album that takes you on a journey of introspection, self-transformation, and relaxation. The music will be the foundation for an entire exhibition I will build around it. You will be able to experience the music accompanied by videos, brought to life as visual installations, and other artworks that are directly related to the music.
I want to take you out of your reality, into another world—my world. To show you a world that looks different from yours, so you can gain a new perspective. To show you a world that looks similar to yours, so you feel less alone. And to inspire you to share your own world with others.
My goal is to create an experience that makes you forget everything around you and feel as calm as I do when I'm making art.
I want to make you feel better by experiencing art, just as I feel better by creating it. I want to make you feel better by experiencing 40 Nights in Toronto, just as I feel better by creating it.
Now, almost a year later [I wrote down this vision on June 26 and June 28], these words couldn't be more true. I can’t wait to see you on June 14 for the 40 Nights in Toronto exhibition at Gerichtstr. 23, 13347 Wedding.
Enjoy your day (or night).
glg Soda
PS: Today, I don’t have a question for you. I’d like to go back to the question from the last disconnect episode, What is it like to have no thing on Your mind?
If sitting around within an empty mind seems daunting, but you don’t want to drown in the depths of your phone, I have a fun Gedankenspiel you may want to try [maybe when you’re waiting somewhere and don’t know what else to do]:
Find an object around you and imagine it was presented in a museum/art gallery setting - maybe on a pedestal in a white cube room, or in a glass showcase. Imagine it as a piece of contemporary art.
What do you think about this object, put into this new context?
PPS: If you have any feedback, I’m curious to hear it!