THE HILLS HAVE EARS Four murals, entitled Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring commissioned for the foyer of Kreuzberg Str. 44 in the west part of Berlin. Project photos (except #3) by Neil Hester (#3) Architect Gerhardt Leidinger let me do as I pleased, commenting little during the two months' work, and not much more on its completion. But I suspect he was pleased, though the end result was quite different to the art nouveau style decoration of my original sketches. Neil H. photographed twenty odd people, some in their underwear, in various poses in my bedroom at the Paul Robeson Street flat. Lovely assistant Frieda got the wrong end of the stick and removed all her clothes before mounting the ladder (to aid perspective) and spreading her arms with more composure than Neil or I could muster. After the first month the cash was spent, so I did the second month effectively for free, paying Frieda out of my own pocket; for this was the first large work in which decoration was out-done by art, and I nearly drowned in new found creative freedom. As usual, I lived off chocolate and donated pizza, supplemented by pot. Frieda had been trained as a porcelain-painter, so plants and flowers were delegated to her (my own plants invariably resemble piles of intestines). She sneaked in a healthy sprig of cannabis between George and his tree (first picture) which we would point out, with a wink, to a chosen few. There are up to two-hundred rabbits or hares hidden about, in the folds of dresses, in the contours of the mountains, among the sunflowers etc. - a tribute to Kit Williams, to whom I later sent pictures. After a while I met Tom the medieval bagpipe-player who lived in the back house with his cute girlfriend. He and his mate Fritz, who played the lute, were sent to me by God. Fritz, with new rabbit ears, represents Ignorance, which I think he was miffed about. (All the figures had names - one of many plans was to write them on scrolls in gold above each head, but I couldn't afford it.) The minstrels fitted in well behind Christ, or 'Resignation', portrayed by Australian punk drummer Chris H. (fifth picture). My direction to him at the shoot had been: "You're being crucified again. Look pissed off and say 'OH GOD, NOT AGAIN!'" He was pissed off, up the ladder in his pants, and it worked well. Some evenings, the medievals would join other bagpipe-players and a large troupe of drummers at the top of neighbouring Victoria Park which overlooks the city. Tagging along for relaxation after a day's fantasizing, the din they produced was terrific, so no-one minded when I drummed along like a madman. In the cold morning light, however, one tenant remained unimpressed with developments in the foyer. To describe her as a militant lesbian sounds harsh, but she got my hackles up, and still does. During the first week I had roughly outlined the principal figures using my over-head projector. On seeing Frieda as 'Beauty' on the Summer wall for the first time, the woman was outraged. She called meetings at her home to have the work stopped. She pressured neighbours to agree that in this day and age such stuff was sexist, and especially unsuitable for local children because of the naked female 'von untern gesehen!' - "viewed from underneath". (Of course, she may have seen, among the material littered about the foyer, the A3 blow-up of Frieda, bollock-naked up a ladder in a bedroom with her arms outstretched.) Gerhardt suggested we ignore the militant lesbian, and when the revolt failed, we did, mutually. Passing to and fro without a word more, she never again even glanced at what we were doing, not while we were around, anyway. But she did have a point. Some people owned their apartments, and would have wished to have been consulted over major alterations. I just couldn't help thinking FUCK OFF: Artist at work. Most found the murals positive, regardless of bad taste or strangeness. We collected some dedicated fans along the way, too (mostly middle-aged ladies); while a short string of volunteers helped out whenever I panicked over the amount of work still to do. These included Andrej L. After pondering 'Winter' for a while, the first little thing Andrej did blew me away, so to speak. He deliberately painted a thin, red line across the boy Felix' belly, above the pink of a cloud I had put there myself. No big deal, but it stuck in my mind. A fresh approach was encouraging at a time when the temperature had plummeted (the foyer comes off the street and was not heated) and the job had once again dragged me along for far too long. At the 'unveiling', I greeted arriving guests from the top of a ladder, brush in one hand, bubbly in the other. Some of the models came by, most of them seeing the murals for the first time, and my spirits were high. The job had been a rare pleasure - the more so for the feeling I had that I had accomplished something as an artist rather than as an interior decorator. see the Autumn mural POSTER