WALLY'S LOG 2006

August 31

THE UGLIES VIEW THEIR NEW HQ
Dear Wally. Wow. I am truly excited. The place is great. CHANGE EVERYTHING. That guy is such a dick. He moved in 3 years ago (2003!) and created a bar that looks like DDR 1986. Paint the fucking sofas florescent green. God has given you a second chance. God (Sir Thomas) has given you 20,000 euros. Don't be timid. Freak that place out. Make it the hippest freakiest corner in Mitte. Start with the Union Jack in the window. Spray paint the bar. Be bold... (Ugly One)

I agree. (Wally)

Later. Did not make it to Nikki's tribute bash at the Roter Salon, arranged by Tine and Bruno. Absolutely packed I hear. Anyway, absolutely not in the mood. Would like to have witnessed The Methylated Spirits though, who apparently ruled the night.

August 28

CHANGE OF MASTERPLAN
Understandably, Kai and Xandi are thus far unimpressed with the idea of holding their exhibition in a pub instead of a gallery, even if it does say Wallywoods over the door.
But Denis, aka River Dillon, booked for a photo show at the end of September, is more optimistic:

Dear Paul,

For me I like to exhibit where you are and I would follow you all over the world.
I like your spirit, which is really to create an original alternative artistic and musical space.
So I will exhibit CREATURES DE LA MER where you decide.
Kopischstrasse is fine, and also ART PUB WALLYWOODS near Torstrasse is also fine, and fun.
See you soon, when I come back on 6 September or the day after.
I wish you a nice week.

Denis.

August 25

"DEAR KAI & XANDI,
Sorry I haven't got around to contacting you both about sudden developments at Wallywoods - just been so busy, with so much now to arrange.
Yes, Thomas and I are leaving Kopischstr.1 to open 'Art Pub Wallywoods' on corner Christinenstr./Fehrberlinerstr., on the border Mitte/Prenzlauerberg. There are many reasons for this, all connected with fate - but good fate, we both now believe. The new place will give us more freedom with events, be more central, more comfortable, better visited and, basically, earn some money. I've run Kopischstr. at a constant loss for nearly 2 years now, and with the winter coming again and still no heating, I feel I just must move on - and up. We're quite excited about all the possibilities. Live event/music every night. And of course, continuing guest exhibitions as before. What do you think? Will you hold 'Postrealer Brutalismus 3' at the new place as you planned for Kopischstr.1? I hope so.
There is actually another possibility. We are still looking for somebody to take over the present space and pay the rent - this I would prefer, at least to offer the possibility to artist friends, before I return the keys to the landlord in middle of September. But there are difficulties, like almost no heating, and an unclear future of the whole Sendelbach Höfe project, which would then have to be worked out.
I hope this doesn't upset your plan too much. Your exhibition will be much better visited at the Mitte address in any case. Please let me know what you think. Call or come by any time.. Wally."

Later on, music from Johnny Zabala, 'Red' from Canada, The Ugly Americans, Omnoise, Paradox Paul, and stagecrasher B.Burgess at Cécile's Emser Street gallery finishing party. Stormy weather outside. Art-scene sophisticates meet Wallywoods drunks on the inside.

B.Burgess to a handicapped gentleman (shaking and kissing the chaps malformed hands): "Just 'cos you got funny arms, mate, doesn't matter to us. We're from England!" (pic#1). A girl with a severe bout of Chicken Pox who didn't care a toss about it, in fact draped herself over every man on something like ecstasy, freaked out hypochondriac Ugly One, with damn good reason for once (sexy chick otherwise - Nathan from Hull is removing her pox in Photoshop - pic#3 below).

Johnny Zabala, a man of not huge physical stature, picks a fight with the biggest Englishman I've seen in Berlin (pic#1 above). Wally is ganged up on for weakly mumbling "if this was my place I'd throw you bastards out" (pic#2 below). Pretty Ugly performance though. Got most of it on film, as far as I recall. And, more to the point, Cécile herself was delighted (pic#1 below). Even if her host gallerists did once again fail to invite any of the numerous locals featured in her slightly nutty 130 ink drawings.

Photos: Nathan Wright

One to remember. Enough said.

August 21

NOISE TEST SUCCESSFUL
The signing of the contract on potential new gallery space at 60 Gate Street did not take place, nor is it going to. Lawyer friend (a contradiction in terms, according to Nathan from Hull) Markus M. needed more time than was available at this afternoon's meeting to go through the small print and we postponed signing for a day or two. That was his first brilliant move; Wally the Quick had been ready to sign immediately. Then our new friend suggested we hold a noise test that very evening. The site owner, a young half-groovy guy half hiding a bunch of problems, agreed, adding that there would be no negative reaction in any case - we were in the same building as Kaffee Burger after all. So, returned later on with a few noise fans, including Clive and, rolling out the big guns, Mr Omnoise himself, the wall-cracker. But it didn't get as far as Omnoise. Clive plugged his electric guitar into our little Wally amp and as far as I know (I was in the backyard listening to the crickets) an extremely impressive, extremely angry neighbour stormed in, threatened to call the cops and killed the project.
Wally was mildly gob-smacked.
Bert noticed this, then suggested we look at a pub around the corner, which owner Klaus wants rid of due to back-pain and fear of crowds. He misses the tiny little beer nook he used to run, which he swapped three years ago for this wonderful and popular corner pub complete with billiard table, sofas, big kitchen, useful back rooms and all the correct licenses. Keeping the work-load down now, he only opens between 8pm and 2am, putting a sign in the half-closed doorway when he does, announcing PRIVATE.
Sir Thomas fell in love immediately. I think, partly, it was the contrast to the place we had just looked at - admittedly a bit of a dump after all. While Clive plugged in to finish his set we asked Klaus about the money...
"Yes, it's lovely Sir Thomas. But I don't have a penny, let alone THAT."
"But I do," said Sir Thomas with a wink (referring to the inheritance from his late father) and now he and Wally are going into the pub business.

Art Pub Wallywoods. Why not.

August 20

THROW OUT OR THROW UP
Recovered from the hangover enough to clear away Friday's leftovers. Indescribable stench. Blood and trodden-on worms soaked into the floorboards. Two hours forensics at the scene of a hideous crime. Don't wish to think about it...

August 18

WORM OF THE WEEK

Simone (pic#1) enjoyed her end of exhibition party so much she ate one of her guests. This was fine because about four times as many turned up as at her opening two weeks previous, which, swinging as it was, now seems exceedingly dull in comparison. Her boyfriend, part-time Wallywoods barman Rolf, ate three.

Futuristic buffet this time compliments Dutch Ritz (pic#3 above) and Miss Demuth herself (that's her uncooked chicken hearts, uncooked chicken and doomed worm special), with music coming from 'Owls of the Swamp' aka Pete (pic#1 above) who's set was almost totally ignored but didn't mind a bit, fellow Australian Tim McMillan from the band Naked Raven, and Scots-Canadian brothers John and Alan from 'Red' (pic#2 below) augmented with a howling chorus of new fans led by Ugly Jason. Other half Ugly One refused to perform so Wally bashed the organ a bit while Axel, still recovering from his split lip, blew on his titanium didgeridoo.

Photos: Thomas Heger & Nathan Wright

Nice to see the Sameheads crew (new fashion and records shop at nearby Nostitz Street 11), Cord and Birgit (just returned from honeymoon in and around Liverpool), Clive and Siggy (about to drop baby), Gerry Electronica and (no relation) that weird grey old geezer who visits more gallery events in Berlin than everyone else put together.
Wally, pressing the keys like evil runes into the hands of suddenly nervous second-in-command Sir Thomas, deserted the ship early and woke up across town in the sun-flooded apartment of a mysterious stranger (earning the title Worm of the Week).

August 17

WASHING UP

Cleaned up the dinner things 13 days after the event.

Photos: Nathan Wright

Not strictly true. The worst stinking leftovers, the punch, rice and fowl, had been thrown out just two days after the event.
During these couple of weeks Wally met, for the first time, the Wallywoods mouse, who appeared out of the floorboards one midnight to admire the exhibit. The cowardly gallerist, quite alone, though on the phone to Ugly One as it happens, immediately leapt onto the Biggest Chair in the house, not knowing the difference between a mouse, a rat and a health inspector. Next day the holes were cemented up and the unpaying tenant has, very sadly, not visited the gallery since.

August 16

SENT THIS TO EVERYONE IN WALLYWORLD:
"..Informal meeting to discuss the possibility of Wallywoods moving to Tor Strasse 60, Mitte (and/or elsewhere). Interested parties in the developing Verein (club) and/or the present gallery premises at Kopischstr.1 are more than welcome to drop in for discussion, advice-sharing, beverage, and later a bit of..."

About ten interested parties clocked in for an extremely informal yet extremely productive meeting as Wally announced he had already made the decision to move. Tor Strasse 60 in Mitte - 60 Gate Street has a rounder ring - will be the home of 'Wallywoods 2' as of middle of next month. Assuming the contract-signing formalities take place without a hitch next Monday. Will have central-heating, white walls; all ready to move in and wreck. The evicted Polish posters' shop next door to Kaffee Burger, ten seconds' stroll from the Rosa-Luxemburg Platz metro station, and on the bottom-most end of that disgusting professional gallery half-mile - which one will now be forced to append. There are three rooms; the first, with shop front, to house 'Fuck Off Fashion' or some such punky nonsense (Ugly One is raving these days about Johnny Rotten's book and the horrible Sex Pistols phenomena) comprising clothes bought at charity shops for a cent and painted or printed on by anyone who feels like it and sold to Berliners and tourists alike for historically ridiculous prices; the second, larger, room to house the new Wallywoods gallery, with a change of exhibition every week (each opening with a big live music party and ending with a big live music party plus auction); the third room, next to the toilet, Wally's new office.
Back to the present. In the old board room at 'Wallywoods 1' a voice shouted over the Pink Floyd, "Pass the ashtray will ya. Not that one! What's first on the agenda then Wally?"
"I'm moving to Mitte. Who wants to run this place?"
"Me" said Dutch Ritz.
"Right then. Oh, but what about Sir Thomas?" at which exact last minute Sir Thomas walked in.
"Me too!" said Sir Thomas, quietly excited for some reason.
"Right, that's that then. Meeting over. One out-of-date cider and a spliff please barman..."

August 11

MARIE-CECILE AT EMSER 126

Made it as far as the gallery 'Kunstladen Emser 126' in neighbouring Neukölln to direct Cécile's hanging of 130 black ink portraits (based on photographs of local citizens, used in a previous Emser 126 exhibition) and a selection of related paintings old and new, including recently completed 'Ali Barber and the 40 Thieves' and 'Job-centre Bagdad' - together entitled (the equivalent) 'Neukölln Black & White & Other Colours'. Timely stuff indeed, and a wide-eye-opener for some of the local, predominately Turkish and Arab population.

Photos: Thomas Heger

Music on the night by, you guessed it, Cécile's favourite Ugly Americans, of whom she is the most honorary member. The writer of this journal was too pooped to stay long, in fact missed the show, and invites Marie-Cécile to refer to her own diary (yes, she keeps one too - oh boy, what a Pandora's Book that must be), or anyone else who fancies it, to highlight the gaps for us.
Just one further thing to note is that, although the artist was not disappointed by the turnout - she sold four sketches indeed - she and Wally wonder now why the respectable and friendly threesome who run the gallery, notwithstanding as a part-time hobby, did not seem to invite the many stars of the show who feature in the ink sketches, i.e., those in the original photographs given by the gallery to Marie-Cécile months ago to work from.
May I suggest inviting them for the finissage on the 25th?

August 10

ONE YEAR WALLYWOODS AT KAFFEE BURGER PARTY

With
ANGEL EYEDEALISM (NYC)
THE UGLY AMERICANS (USA)
ALEX TORNADO (Mixed blood)
EINAR STENSENG (Scandinavia)
OWLS OF THE SWAMP (Australia)
PARADOX PAUL (Wanker)

Yep, time flies.
The following comment, attached to the same blurb, upset Mr Tornado who subsequently demanded no less than 45 minutes show time unassaulted by Wally, or the Tornados wouldn't show at all. Quite right. Don't stand for it Alex:

"Wally, after organising 12 fantastically successful Kaffee Burger events is happy, tired and bored and plans to sabotage this month’s concert whilst throwing people on and off stage willy nilly. Free entry for ugly free-style gogo dancers and musicians who have the balls to hijack the show. Be there or be square..."

The Tornados got thrown off before their end anyhow - huge apologies still due - allowing Miss Idealism a full ten minutes of screaming over a fucked sound system in front of a confused but begging-for-it audience before the Uglies won extra time, actually completing an incredible half-hour, after which the drunkest of us pissed off across the street to White Trash. There, Angel was booked for a predictably impressive debut of two fifteen minute sets, joined on stage at the bitter end by Wally, pretending to be part of the one-woman show, himself on a White Trash debut (and space-cake trip) whether they deserved it or not. He remembers screaming "Fuck Bush, Fuck Bush" into Angel's face during her great Fuck Bush finale and waking up across town in the sun-flooded apartment of a mysterious stranger.

August 5

SIMONE DEMUTH & THE FUTURISTIC KITCHEN

One of the most seriously gallery-like exhibition openings yet I reckon (six reasons listed below). But faithful to the Wallywoods spirit; informal, fun, sometimes downright astounding or dumb.

1. The futuristic exhibit by Simone Demuth: top quality art photos of weird food (Simone's text English/Deutsch).
2. The new look, mural-decorated white-floored gallery, cleared of furniture (the recently freed back room now cram-filled with old Wallywoods irreplaceable junk), in conjunction with a straightforward yet inspired installation successfully merging Miss Demuth's extremely well constructed exhibit and the now permanent Big Chairs gallery theme (this conjunction, the first of who knows how many, once a challenge, now a hit). Crazy-fabric armchair, center-stage, upon which the surreal recipes are pinned, compliments M.C.Lutta.
3. The exhibit-inspired future-food buffet, actually small feast (all edible), compliments Wallywoods catering associates and die-hard art supporters Sister Anna from around the corner and Dutch Ritz from around quite another corner. Cooks and food arrived in triumphant ceremony to the complete surprise of the artist, not to mention Wally, who doesn't know anymore if he's in the wrong business or the right one to a tee.

Photos: Nathan Wright & Thomas Heger

4. The presence of Klaus M.Rarisch, the translator into German of the book "The Futuristic Kitchen" by the founder of the Futuristic movement, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti - upon which the recipes, photos and food installation are based.
5. The spontaneous interactive entertainment, compliments The Ugly Americans and Angel Idealism (Angel still trapped in Berlin due to too many cute looking boys - sorry, gig offers).
6. Wally sold a Big Chairs painting for 500 bucks.

August 4

The great Futuristic Food hanging.

August 3

A moving little ceremony entitled 'The Return of the Key' took place in almost complete privacy in the back room early this afternoon. Could equally have happened up on Mount Fucking Joy. Fucking Hallelujah.

Painted the floorboards white in celebration.

August 1

Astrological Report on P.D.Woods
Compliments Angel Eye

Uranus Opposition Pluto
*****
Transit
(Pisces-Virgo 1st-7th)
Exact

A time when you may feel rebellious and act out a need for freedom, especially from any psychological and deep-seated feelings of insecurity and vulnerability. You have no interest in self-analysis, deep conversations, gossip, and the like.

July 31

Wallywoods votes White Trash unfriendliest pub in Berlin.
Greetings to Trinity and the whole ignorant family.

(Later addition: OK, only half the family are wankers.)

July 29

AN EVENING WITH ANGEL IDEALISM

www.angeleyerecords.com

At the gallery at pretty short notice, Angel, originally from NYC, now living in Prague but doesn't like it there. Thinking of relocating to Berlin or Lisbon. Has played at Carnegie Hall (Ugly One: "Big deal, everyone's played at Carnegie Hall!"). Connected to Wallywoods through film-maker Robert C., also now living in Prague. Well done Robert C. Not only a real sweet lady, down-to-earth, full of life, bad-mouthed, up for anything. Extraordinary voice, too, and a wonderful performer. Casual and utterly competent. Unlike Wallywoods. Couldn't get the fx gadget she needed, so at the start Miss Eyedealism was trepidatious. Wally in a panic ran around to Arcanoa to first insult and then consult Alex Tornado who was just about to go on there. "Tell her to do the effects with her real voice" was his useful comment. As it turned out she did just that, singing along to her own opera-meets-punk backing tracks, laid on at her gentle command by Elvis 2000, christened Mr Cunt for the duration. The other soundman, Johnny Zabala, was scheduled to lead the follow-up jam session, but Ugly One got on the keyboard first and Wally beamed with pride as Angel asked him to get on the other keyboard while she sang. Banjo Patsy couldn't get into it - too chaotic, too loud - but Cécile sang too and it turned very Ugly indeed. Great racket. Cops came. Ugly One 'Sieg Heiled' them in welcome. End of show. Johnny, after about six hours preparing to go on, never played and was understandably miffed.

Very pleasant not too full house. Refrigerator struggled but delivered almost cool refreshments in the end. Especially good to see Mr Evans, Mother Corinne (she slapped Ugly One, not lightly, who literally asked for it and then whined for half an hour), Heike, Gaby & Theo, Anterny Riley, a couple from the Goth fashion shop in Bergmann Street, an interested and animated father and son from Taiwan, and actually, fuck knows who else. Thirty-five wobbly heads counted at one stage. Wally got so drunk he forgot to kiss his Angel good night.

Photos: Nathan Wright

Ugly Drunken American Git (Angel: "Oooh, get this guy AWAY from me..") seems to have forgotten falling on his arse:

WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT? All I remember is the Ugly bits. Starting with some incredible singing from the bigger than life Angel Eyedealism. People were crowding around on the street to witness the spectacle. That much I remember. Then I drank a bottle of red wine and everyone seemed annoyed at me for some reason. A German woman slapped me (I slapped the bitch back). Johnny was screaming musicological insults at me after I sang Puccini's "vissi d'arte vissi d'amore" and lost my voice. Then we all jammed, Wally, Ceci, Angel, and me. A real Ugly American jam. That's when the police showed up and I 'Sieg Heiled' them in my myopic way assuming those nice men in green coats must be some late night arrivals from the gay scene. Of course I apologized profusely, but they didn't seem to care about anything except the noise. So Wally threw everyone out and we all went around the corner to the Typhoid Imbiss to make some more noise. The chef made 6 euros and spent the whole time telling us to be quiet. Then Alex Tornado blew in. I remember that because he told me how thin I looked, not meaning it as a compliment, implying it must be the aids (one diet that really works). But I took it as a compliment, blushed even, feeling just like his little cock sucking girlfriend, Penny Lane. That in mind I fell to my knees (to look for my brain). Then I realized that my designated driver wasn't showing up, probably drunk himself, so I made the mistake of getting behind the wheel. I got as far as Grossbeerenstrasse (only by closing one eye) and managed to double park (by closing both) and passed out in my little garage pad. I woke up 6 hours later wondering where I was and what happened last night...

July 25

Hottest weather in Berlin for a hundred years.
Clive Manning hosts his first monthly singer-songwriter evening at Arcanoa.
Petra is happy, full of compliments.
But, man, it was hot in that hole.

July 22

STILL ON THAT LADDER

Jam session at the gallery with Patsy, a taxi driver and odd friends, followed up with a dose of Tornado. No Johnny Zabala sadly. Apparently not on Cloud Nine just at the moment.
Wally and helpers work on the murals.

July 15

Jam session at the gallery with Patsy, Johnny Zabala and odd friends.
Wally and helpers work on the murals.

July 13

GATE STREET
After a strenuous week up a ladder at Lafil, the first Berlin Big Chairs party at Kaffee Burger, double-booked as the first Wallywoods all-stars chaos-jam session at Kaffee Burger, featured not a single Big Chair or even a slide show due to over-commitment of the organiser/ceiling-painter/full-time dreamer. The carefully and extremely loosely planned evening was promptly saved by:

1. A pair of guys with guitars who looked in the door to see why the stage was empty only to get politely escorted to that revered meat-market pedestal by Sir Thomas and instructed to create, regardless of general Wallywoods howling, Helge's poems and Gerry's laptop, until a quarter past midnight when the confused but sporting and finally very relieved KB DJ was finally permitted to get the dicks and dollies dancing and earn his beer and chicks.

2. A not insignificant and not totally undrunken bunch of Wallywoods sympathisers who agreed to a man that Wally should rent the 800 euros shop-space spotted during the Guantanamo Bay rally of the previous Tuesday, next door, here on the great and refreshingly busy Gate Street, and open 'Wallywoods Too' in spite of poverty and over-commitment of the organiser/ceiling-painter/full-time dreamer.

3. Drugs.

After missing the two Aussie bands at the horrible White Trash pub, shared a taxi home from King Kong Club (for unknown reasons Elephant Lungs aka The Shitty Listener did not take the stage) with Gaby and Theo and naturally Cécile, whose home it is anyway. Gaby, if she wants a share in the new place, may save the day. If she does not, and nobody else does, Wally will save the day as usual.

July 11

The Ugly Americans plus freshly printed t-shirts joined at Bert's request his Guantanamo theme evening (wer lacht, fliegt raus! / laugh and get thrown out!) for two shortish sets, injecting fun and noise into a serious and silent (but for the deadly readings) Kaffee Burger.

July 8

Cosy candle-lit completely unplugged Saturday night jam at Wallywoods between friends and other local bums arranged for and in honour of Fred the Fiddle who didn't turn up, led by Mr Zabala and Patsy and her Husky accompanied by random discussions between friends and other local bums regards the shifting future of Wallywoods. Patsy would like to do it more often with Mr Zabala, who was in such good temper that he may even consider it.
In the backgound Wally and helpers worked on the murals.
Nothing else happened.

July 1

CHAD PARKS AND THE NEAR DEATH BIG CHAIRS

Chad Parks and his two mates The Near Death Experience phoned Friday night to report arriving safely, exhausted and hungry in Berlin to find their gig cancelled, apparently triple-booked, at Wild at Heart. Easy going guys, they took it well, but didn't deserve this surprising and ignorant dismissal. By all accounts a great month's tour in Dublin, London, Paris and then disappointment in Berlin. Dropped off their gear at the gallery and we took them to the bookshop to miss dinner but, Friday being film night and a perfect setting, catch a currently trendy and successful British sit-com about a bunch of weirdos running a bookshop, presumably in The King's Road. Gave Wally an idea. Anyway, after space cakes two thirds of the band crashed at the gallery and the day fizzled out in vitamin-enhanced waves.
But they enjoyed Wally's historic Berlin Big Chairs opening on the following night, which went exactly as planned, and totally unnoticed by a living journalist or art buyer.

Joining in the wall paintings were Sister Chain, American George, Nathan from Hull, Helge der Hinterhofdichter, Marie-Cécile, two separate strangers to Wallywoods who argued themselves out the door (never to return), and even Sir Thomas, whose best kept secret is that he once was, is and always will be an artist too. Simone Demuth brought a BBC cake, Johnny Zabala jammed with the guys, The Good Girls jammed in the guys' truck and, for a bonus, Tine dropped in.

Photos: Nathan Wright

Start work in the morning. Gallery closed for two weeks.

June 30

Phone call yesterday from James in the Smoke. Wants to fly to Berlin for the football and visit the gallery, bringing his workmate Lee from the Caribbean. Busman's holiday? They should bring their security guard uniforms and keep order tomorrow night. But haven't heard any more since, and don't really expect to see little brother who always means well and has never yet visited.
Spent the afternoon pinning up in the back gallery more chair works, mostly badly drawn three-minute sketches, including some erotic 'fucking chairs' which have already drawn positive comments. (Nathan from Hull wants to build a pair; suggested we visit on Sunday that huge Polish flea market to get the tools he needs - although I will not be in a fit state for a Sunday bike ride.) Late in the afternoon it was too dark to see what to hang next, so returned to Cécile's flat where the gallery computer has been set up this past week, to work most of the night on a cleaned up version of 'Big Chairs Concerto #1' (originally recorded 10 years ago) to play, and perhaps sell, tomorrow. Designed the cover art but couldn't print anything due to no printer ink. Stumped at every corner it seems. Still, it is that time of month and some residual dosh for essentials, like drinks for the party, may be found at the bottom of the bank barrel.
Spent a disturbing night submerged in vivid and uncomfortable dreams. Happened a week ago, too. First nightmares for an age. The recent ones were a recurring series, interrupted by short, fully wakeful periods, of horror scenarios connected to people and catastrophic festivities at the gallery. Masked frog men, ominous and silent, chased around an apocalyptic Berlin by Ken, the only human enjoying himself immensely (beneath the masks he pulled off were pretty young men). Last night the themes were tragic. Ended up in the Middle-East, in uniform sitting on a tank with my captain (myself also), who had demanded we take up this position, surrounded by mourners at a mass funeral for a child whom our comrades had presumably just killed. From my post I wept publicly, long and from some place deep in my tired soul. Confrontation was avoided, I believe, only due to our purposely vulnerable position, the captain's cool head and my own open crying.
Drug excess and subconscious fears for the future, no doubt; of aging, disappointment, eternal suppression, insecurity, conflict, death. All that stuff and more besides.

Well, let it all stay buried. Build a fucking great Big Chair on top.

June 27

VIP treatment, a smashing dinner and fucking football on the big screen at Restaurant Lafil with Cécile and André who runs the place now. Nice enough guy for a restaurant manager. Confirmed the painting job (stole it from my old partner Frieda - ha! she'll survive), starting Monday. Will get an advance. Should earn during the first phase enough to cover the remaining bill and pay back most of the lenders. Not now simply restoring the walls and ceilings, but will work on new designs to make the place Spanish - fake Spanish anyway. Much more fun! Andre understandably wants to put his stamp on the place (he's into bulls and bull-fighters - well, whatever) but his approach to the necessary changes, and to me, is correct, careful and encouraging.
Ended up at The Nasty Party in Arcanoa Bar. Few public and a bit of a scratchy start, but soon enough the place rocked and Petra's fingers were in her ears. Always a good sign. Australian Nick is in town and he recorded. He also needs work. Seem to have pissed off Mr E., but he was pissed off in any case. Can it be that Bert himself, aware of my silly concerns about the film scheduled for The Nasty Party's last Burger show, was behind the disappearance of the video-beamer on the big night? Anyway, not my problem. There will always be conflicts of interest when planning chaotic events involving so many artist friends. Toes get trodden on. Mine too. Managed to stay positive.
Am always positive these days, truth be told.
Arcanoa is sometimes a life-boat for lost souls (the presence of an intoxicated APS is only worrisome these days), but I'm no longer chained to it. Clive takes over the monthly shows from July with his "One Night Stand" singer-songwriter sessions.

So the plan now is to close the gallery for two weeks immediately after the BBC opening on Saturday. Call it a Summer break. Sadly, there will be no Big Chair star of the show - too many energy-draining problems recently to have swung that one - but a colourful performance-redecoration of those hallowed grey Wallywoods walls, to take place behind two damn good live acts, with the participation of anyone who feels like picking up a paint brush and dirtying their best dress, should make for a far from dull evening. Painting-performance to start at 7pm and go as long as it takes. The first guests will arrive at an apparently empty gallery with not a big or even a little chair in sight (except for those already hanging in the back gallery). The resulting graffiti-murals, however they turn out, will form the basis of a work in endless progress at the gallery for Wally to mess around with at free moments (or busy moments, or whenever he bloody feels like it). Will make a nice backdrop for the ceiling-height chair WHICH EVENTUALLY WILL BE BUILT.

June 23

BORDERCROSSING BERLIN

The blurb ran:
"From December 2006 Berlin will finally have its own English language literary magazine! Twice a year 'Bordercrossing Berlin' will publish new English language poetry and prose and feature original artwork.
In the months leading up to the launch of the Bordercrossing magazine proper, eight Checkpoint readings will take you on a mini-tour celebrating English language literature in Berlin - its habitat (second-hand bookstores, cafés, bars) and its proponents. After experiencing the rich variety of the scene and collecting "APPROVED" stamps in your Bordercrossing Passport at each Checkpoint, we invite you to join us at the launch party on 1st December - location to be announced..."

Hosted by Lady Gaby
Writer, spoken-word performer and host of the monthly FUEL performance show at Hotelbar, Mitte, Berlin.

Performers include:

Christopher Leary
Born in New Zealand grew up in Spain, Nigeria & England. Qualified as an architect in London. Now resides in Berlin, working as a writer, photographer and teacher. Published 'Blood and Peanut Butter' in 2005 - a tragic-comic novel about relationships: "A tour de farce… packed with neo-pleasances and thanatosisms. You won’t be able to put it down… It sticks to you like peanut butter. I’m still cleaning up the mess." (Chester Grumbles, Grouch City Times)

Catherine Hales
Grew up in Surrey, UK. Studied, played bass in a post-punk band & had a catastrophic flirt with teaching in Norwich. Nine years in Stuttgart. Since 1999 in Berlin working as a freelance translator whilst making music, writing & walking on the wild side.

Fiona Mizani
Her short stories give one the feeling of peering through a window into the sitting room of Ordinary English Life - where it is always time for tea and nothing quite seems to happen. Described as 'a mover and shaker' in Berlin's English language literary scene. Runs Cafe Rosa, home of Cafe Rosa Readings and the Poetry Hearings Festival.

Plus music from the Rock'n'Roll Diktator
"Das mit dem Rock’n’Roll sollte nicht zu eng aufgefasst werden, am besten als populäre Bandmusik. Der Diktator war aber leider zu grausam und exzentrisch als das jemand mit ihm musizieren wollte. So entschloss er sich eben im Alleingang eine Band zu werden: Und zwar die kleinste Supergroup der Welt. Seine Lieder sind Ohrwürmer und eignen sich hervorragend für die schrägen R’n’R Diktator-Live-Shows..."

A full house for a gaggle of excellent readers (Leary, scholarly; Hales, romantic; Mizani, silly; Lady G., streetwise) broken up by the mildly comic R'n'R Diktator (should study further at the A.Tornado School of Idiocy) and a barbeque out back (thank Sir Thomas). For the most part you could hear a pin drop. A minor backstage pain interfered only with Wally's enjoyment of an otherwise slick yet informal and jovial event. Mr Leary agreed at the end to read some of these recent on-line diaries (he enjoyed the surprise, I believe and hope), including this, written on the day to inform an audience by now on their way out the door of important developing gallery affairs:

Manifesto of the day:

Collect money. Pay bill by end of next week.
Internet cafe. Check e-mails. Up-date website. Save last year's gmx e-mails before they are deleted forever.
Meet Simone the food artist at the gallery 5pm today. Ask her if she would like to make a Big Chair cake for 1 July. (She said yes!)
Invite Frau Puschel to show her stuffed-animal armchair.
See Gerhard. Ask about Mietvertrag, Gewerbe anmeldung, whether it's possible or worth it. Ask about electricity from the back workshops to supply Gaby's event. Plug in the fridge. If he's in a better mood, ask about Styrofoam for the Big Chair.
Get the drinks in for tonight and don't give them away.
Berlin Big Chairs: invites for 1 July. The opening. Performance & music. Chad Parks and the Near Death Experience, last European tour date. Johnny Zabala and mystery drummer. (Invite the neighbours?) Collect materials and build a Big Chair (chicken wire, steel rods, frilly knickers, whatever). Make it portable. Take it all over town, parks, clubs, wherever, for regular art-music-performance spontaneous gatherings. Film them. Locations announced last minute through the website.
Watch an England match at Restaurant Citrone. Get Timur to promise to come to the opening.
Try to get 2 to 4 weeks work at Restaurant Lafil, starting early as possible in July. Get 500 bucks in advance.
Find a part time gallerist to work with, starting soon as possible after July (preferably female, preferably not an artist). Invent new opening hours. Start the BBC Verein paperwork. Buy paints and work out dates for regular painting afternoon workshops at the gallery (The BBC School of Art).
Work on the new Uglies CD, burn some old ones and print Ugly American t-shirts for Kaffee Burger's Guantanimo evening on the 11th. Ken will go nuts. Jason too, hopefully. Take no prisoners. All out war. Bert says his masked militia will throw out anyone who laughs, so take guns and put a sniper on the door.
Make poster for The Nasty Party at Arcanoa on Tuesday.
Visit Nico's exhibition.
Meet journalists.
Visit Mum and Dad at Christmas (pay them back).

June 22

Finally found an Uglies recording Ken is happy with for a second CD. The one at Wallywoods in October in front of four guests (one walked out) with the big Farfisa, ending suddenly with the destruction of another pair of speakers. Will do another Paradox Paul mix, but with only few effects.
Drove with him, moaning all the way, to pick up Kristian's mixer from The Ceili House for the Rock'n'Roll Diktator, who seems to be living up to his name.

June 21

Got to the gallery the day before to find a note in the door "We have cut off your electricity. Pay 1,440 euros and we will turn it back on". After some phone calls aimed at clarifying the matter the sum is now 1,900 euros. After another phone call, got half the money coming from England courtesy Mum and Dad, now retired and hardly well off themselves, having spent all their lives slaving in the rat race, with their hard-earned earnings, and now savings, systematically drained through apparently endless family catastrophes. Dad now calls me Vincent and himself Theo. The real Theo was certainly better off than Mr and Mrs Woods of 21b Brownlow Road, Isle of Wight.
Today visited Bert and some other donors in Mitte, arriving at his little office crammed with cute girls without a cent in my pocket. Shortly after a kebab and a beer in the sun, dropped into Restaurant Brazil looking for Klaus. Actually wanted to invite him to my opening, but he wasn't there, and wouldn't have given me anything anyway.
Restaurant Brazil is now Lafil, a Spanish tapas pub connected to Yozoy down the road. Still prohibitively expensive of course, for the likes of us. But now have football on the big screen and flags cover most of the wall space. Met the boss, drank another beer and soon enough seem to have landed myself a job restoring my original antique through colonial wall and ceiling paintings of ten or more years ago. Damage worse in the front, but everywhere badly aged (as opposed to nicely aged, as my then mentor Klaus and I intended) from cigarillos and whiskey breath and blacked with soot from tens of thousands of candles which have burned since the completion of my great project after thirteen months up a ladder, landscaping the toilets and falling off the high class stools. Seasons of caipirinha, barmaids, pocket money and cocain.
Downstairs I met Krizstina the pastry cook and love of my life, all covered in flour.
Fond memories now, but life was no dream even then.

June 20

Happy birthday Jim. You're a mad, sad, boozing brute, but you've a big heart and you're still my little brother.
Come visit you fool.

June 18

Weed ran out, so drowned our nerves at Arcanoa with Helge von Otowa and Adolf Torpedo. We sniggered and yodelled during the last set of a three band concert, a seriously very good, unfortunately intensely serious, new age pop band (who were they?) and got straight and sour looks from the pretty young, pretty serious audience. Wally nights here are more fun, I soberly thought.
Lost the German poets at last, one drunk and one equally drunk even though he never drinks, and headed for the Junction Bar where Cécile danced to a dull dj and we found no weed.

June 17

BLUR

Opening party for (above right) Sir Thomas Heger's famous blurry "Wally Photos" and Wally began hanging Big Chairs at long fucking last in the back room and jolly performance fun ensued with The Ugly Americans now that hypochondriac Ugly One is better but without Siggi's sax which arrived too late and Gerde complained that nobody ever empties the ashtrays but Ugly Too was in fantastic form jumping on the sofas and Ceci sang and the neighbours baby complained and sent its mother and not its red-faced father, thank christ, so Wally killed the show after already killing it a bit with a hammer and other tools, and then Nils arrived with his fucking bagpipes and a drummer. Fucking great.

Photos: Nathan Wright

The Wallywoods bagpipes ban officially lifted, smoky jam session followed including Yaw Dompreh (Ghana) and David (Hull) of the Pescadores (just finished around the corner at Arcanoa Bar), wonderful solo vocals from New Orleans' Wayne Martin - you could have heard a pin drop - American Mike, Brother John, two didgeridoos and the gods only know what else. Too drunk to remember, every one of 'em. So, a highly successful opening with great pictures, perfectly good chair and wall vandalism, astounded new faces and old drunk ones and a blurry Wallywoods classic to remember forever or, more likely, immediately forget. That maniac Wieland was also present with his spaced out wife. No probs. A natural performer. Mick Jagger's brother Chris, after playing around the corner at the horrible Bergmann Street Festival, did not turn up and was not missed in the least.

June 16

FINISHING PARTY
for two neat little exhibitions and although almost no-one dropped in, a very pleasant occasion all round, especially considering the mayhem caused by Mr Scott earlier in the day who, after a clash of personality, wanted to punch out Mr Monroe's lights and was asked to take a long overdue walk to cool off.

For a leaving present, and to protect him from further disasters, gave Mr Monroe (above) eight "Made in CCCP" yellow hockey helmets that have been in the window for the last two weeks for no reason I can readily think of other than we found them at the other end of this street, homeless, abandoned to the cruel world, outside the corner pub where they hold secret transvestite parties at 32 euros a ticket.
Its a cruel cruel fucking world.

June 15

"DEAR FRIENDS
This Saturday Wallywoods presents its last solo exhibition of this year - a selection from 20 months of photographs taken so far at and around the gallery by Sir Thomas Heger.

Then, from 1 July, Gallery Wallywoods will become the home base of "Berlin Big Chairs" (BBC), a project by P.D.Woods (London, now living in Berlin) involving all medias and in collaboration with artists who wish to explore a connection, or connections, between Berlin Big Chairs and theiir own works.

So far the group includes M.C.Lutta, Alan P.Scott, River Dillon, Nathan Wright, Jean-Karl Waldhubel, A.Krohn & Kai Pohl..."

June 10

MR MONROE MEETS MR WRIGHT

Taken on the morning after (helmets & graffiti a late drunken addition)

The day started early for Mr Scott who was woken in no good temper from his back-stage slumber by Mr Derek Monroe, fresh off the plane from Chicagoland or some place to set up his conceptual exhibit 'Tree of War' in the front gallery. "More like 'Bush of War'" Mr Scott was heard to mumble, and indeed the funny little tipee-like contraption now plonked in the gallery is a squatter and lighter-weight affair than the gallerist had virtually envisioned. But, to be clear, this is conceptual art, the likes of which Wallywoods has rarely seen - and therefore highly desirable - a web of chrome struts (specially constructed in Japan) and fax paper which has travelled half the world in the artist's rucksack, along with various army recruitment and training films from the Nazis through Vietnam. "I found so many similarities when I began looking at all this footage" expanded Mr Monroe later, who also writes, speaks fluent Japanese and actually works for a living, flying around the world on a mixture of business and installation-spreading, people-meeting pleasure.

Was a busy day all round, as Nathan Wright from Hull (he can't say that without chuckling) also began installing his own, second, exhibit of photographs in the back gallery. "One Day in May" refers, naturally, to the 1 May party-rioting which takes place in Berlin each year. Photos of over-zealous, body-armoured cops looking hard and stupid beneath visors, lined up ominously in front of a bunch of Berlin citizens from all walks of life drinking beer, awaiting the usual sun-down kick-off. Get ready to run...

Nathan from Hull invited Gustavo B. and fellow Northerner David G. to make some music, and this they did in front of, and along with, a tidy number of visitors who included two didgeridoo-players and a bunch of Italians new to Berlin who had visited the gallery earlier in the day looking for a chance to play anywhere at all. A marvellous little jam session was thus instigated. Wally remembers nothing more about later events other than a bit of his own horrible singing and the aftermath of this double battle-field which took most of the next afternoon to clean up.

Oh yes, Dutch Ritz was also legless on the wrong side of the bar, Helge was just sober enough to read some poems, and Alex Tornado, after skipping with a cord perhaps eighteen inches long and refusing to sing an actual song, was ordered to follow a pretty flirtatious new-comer to Wallywoods into the toilet and help her puke.
The Horrors of war.

Comment (June 14):
You fool misunderstood the whole performance. Not did I skip with a cord but with an uncoiled liquorice snail (Lakritzschnecke) only to eat it afterwards. What do you think the whole applause was about?
Tornadoman.

June 8

Didn't make it myself to the Wallywoods monthly Burger showdown, so missed Jon Evans and his apparently mellowed and bluesy Nasty Party session. Perhaps 'cos Friday is the first day of the World Cup, taking place here in Germany god-dammit, nobody else turned up either. Not strictly true. According to doorman Mr Scott, the intimate little audience was made up of Sir Thomas, Nigel the tattoo-artist and his mysterious new fiancé, Brother John (no Sister Chain), A.Krohn, The Shitty Listener, a couple of stragglers and a little crowd Bert himself brought before midnight. Any of those witnesses might send me a few words of account for these records. Or they might not. As the video-beamer was lent out for the football, Jon's choice of nasty film didn't show either. Huge pity. Meanwhile, Wally waited at the gallery with Cécile and a bottle of wine for a potential buyer interested in her new paintings - a doctor looking to decorate her hospital wing (psychiatric). She also didn't turn up.

June 6

PARTY AT THE GALLERY WITH
the "Floppy Myriapoda" people (new Berlin literature-scene magazine - German language) with readings from the latest copy by founder members Kai Pohl and Alexander Krohn (strangely no pictures have turned up - sorry guys. Did anyone take some?).

Followed by Graham Clayton from the Other Side's 'black-listed lounge punk from the U.K.' (above). Very pleasant un-drunken evening. Everyone likes the little wall. People lean on it demanding to pay for their drinks. Bar-persons Wally and Cécile broke even, with three bottles of cheap red wine left over for next time. Are the exciting days of making a constant loss over?

June 5

Sealed up the double-walled bar with a nice bit of scaffolding pine, but not before filling it with the following items:

Pulled off his cross: the Bible-clad skeleton by Andi Mergner, which featured at the gallery last Christmas.
Various 'Samples for the Lab' items from last year's exhibition. Already bagged and catalogued. The boys won't mind.
Floppy disk from Alan P.Scott.
Poem by Helge der Hinterhofdichter.
Postcard by M.C.Lutta.
Exploded skull (repaired, plus piggy-bank eyeball) given to A.P.Scott on his birthday by Alex Tornado.
Signed Big Chair montage by P.D.Woods.
Current issue of Floppy Myriapoda.
Nazi postage stamps and old German postcards.
Tea-bags.
Pot of Marmite.
Letter to Wally from Ministry of Finance demanding 271 Euros for trying to avoid filling out a form.
Candle.
Thermos flask.
Some other bits and pieces.

Actually, there is still a slot in the top of the wall not yet filled, into which visitors will be invited to drop useless items of interest. Anything fitting. Except money, which would not be fitting. Money goes into the red money box.

June 3

AN IMPROMPTU CONCERT
and late jam session with Gustavo Bauchwitz and David Gawthorpe of the band 'Pescadores de Ventanas' and Kevin Ryan (pic#1) from Ireland, a super singer-songwriter and all round nice geezer on a musical visit to Berlin. David is moving back to England in a week or two, which is a big shame, but at least he's doing it for love; so it was a bit of a farewell to a longstanding and respected Friend of Wallywoods. Typically laid back young and pretty Gustavo crowd. Pretty chicks. Red wine drinkers. Invited Gustavo publicly to run a weekly session, Friday or Saturday nights.

After 3am sang with the last jammers. On closing up, met Cécile outside, looking dazed, just back from a kind of wake in a bar for her recently deceased Turkish friend, Murat. All as wasted by then as one another.

June 2

MARIE-CECILE LUTTA'S
second exhibition at Wallywoods bears the title 'Psychosis'. Primarily four large full-figure female nudes, all new, plus a couple of older classic M.C.Lutta portraits, and a bunch of preparation sketches shown in the back room.

The sketches (pic#1 below) are extremely rough and Wally, extremely stoned, began a few days before to paint chairs in the background of many of them (boyfriend's privilege). Poems courtesy Helge der Hinterhofdichter (below middle), overjoyed to have a predominately German-understanding audience for a change, and music later with Alex Tornado (no pics again - does nobody want to photograph this guy?), who once again saved the evening even though it didn't need saving.

The artist, after sending out 118 personal invitations a couple of days earlier, enjoyed the show and was pleased that some 'important' contacts found time to come by.

June 1

Should never have stopped writing these event reports. The diaries worked fine last year, but at New Year, due to the amount of work on this log, and the work-load generally, thought it would be quite enough to throw on daily e-mails and fill things in later for the book (no chance - can't remember a bean of anything that happened more than three nights ago). Sorting through relevant e-mails and correcting grammar then took so much more time that I gave up altogether. Shall now try to recall each gallery occurrence as they occur to me, if not as they actually occurred, filling in the gaps gradually (it will take months) as I get back to the last full entry, written live around Dec 26, 2005.

Special note:

If you were present at any Wallywoods gathering (but especially during the first half of this year) and wish to contribute to these diaries, and therefore to the book - if I live long enough - please send your worst and best stories (and/or photos/film clips/souvineer underware) to Wally

May 30

ALMOST FINISHED THE
new bar.

A rustic stone affair, made from rubble found in the back yard. Thanks to Nathan the bricky from Hull (pic#2) and Mr Scott the brick-cleaner (pic#3, on tea break).

Thanks also to Christ. Exhibited last Christmas in the window (see entry December 22, 2005) he will now rest in some kind of peace in the Wallywoods bar.

May 27

GUSTAVO'S BAND PLAYED IN THE GRANDIOUS ROUND HALL

Photos: Nathan Wright

of the Wasserturm ("Water-tower"), the Germanly beautiful red-brick mini-castle ex-pumping station at the other end of our normally quiet little street. Then, long after midnight, they brought themselves and a round-up of fans to an after-party booze'n'jam session at the gallery. Star of the latter evening turned out to be an Irish bloke called Kevin. Wally was happy and willing to grant him a gig here the following Saturday. Earlier, Wally was also happy and willing, and suitably nervous, to play piano on the Wasserturm stage before Gustavo's concert started. The usual improvised codswollop, in front of four people. A lovely old chap then got up to play the thing properly. Such a flurry of hands! Such a repetoir! However, Wally continues to dream of having a piano to bang on occasionally at the gallery. The neighbours wouldn't hear a thing. Not after the lynching.

May 26

PAINTINGS BY ALAN P.SCOTT