A couple of long subway rides later I was visiting B's sister R at her place. Unfortunately she wasn't feeling too well so our visit was a bit subdued and shorter than planned, but it was nice seeing her anyhow.
But now I had time on my hands. What to do? I thought: I'm going to visit Thomas The Bookbinder.
Thomas describes some of the art he created
So, another couple of subway rides later, I walked into his shop.
Usually he's alone in there, but this time he had another visitor, a tall, thin guy about 65 with a neatly trimmed silver beard and long silver hair hanging down from under his cap. Thomas said to his friend (in German): "Hey, here's the mailman from America!"
The friend, F, greeted me with a gentle handshake. Both guys were smoking, and I noticed F's fingers were stained light brown from years of holding burning cigarettes. Thomas offered me coffee, then went in the back to prepare a cup.
I spent a few minutes getting to know F, who turned out to be a retired stonecutter---as in, he operated equipment that sliced huge slabs of granite into gravestone-sized pieces.
I think I mentioned in previous posts that Thomas' tiny shop is a throwback to a different era----the machines he uses in his trade are hand-operated, built like tanks, and some are very old...in fact, when he came back with the coffee, talk turned to his "newest" machine, a huge papercutter he recently acquired. It's only 30 years old. We spoke a mixture of German and English, and I kind of startled myself by being able to say what was on my mind mostly in German.
ME: That's a sturdy-looking machine, Thomas...
F: Thomas is in love with the machine.
ME: I can see why---it looks like a quality piece of equipment, built to last a couple hundred years...
ME: I can see why---it looks like a quality piece of equipment, built to last a couple hundred years...
F: No, I mean he is in love with it, like it is a woman. It is all he talks about! "My papercutter, my papercutter..." When we are not here, I think he sleeps next to it at night. Perhaps he makes love to it.
THOMAS [animatedly]: My machine would never accept someone like me as it's lover. But look at the quality! The company went out of business and I got the machine for a good price and---
...and he went on for several minutes about the beautiful, sturdy, precise, elegant, etc. papercutter, which looks a bit like a large table saw (without the saw blade sticking up) with a six-foot long lever on one side, like papercutters you see in offices (only this one weighs about 800 pounds and the blade is razor fuckin' sharp---to show me, Thomas sliced the edge of a piece of paper, making a thin strip about half a millimeter wide. Precision. Or, it would easily amputate a leg if you wanted it to.)
I envy Thomas his work life. He enjoys his work and only does as much of it as he wants to, not more. His shop is open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 2 PM (or so) to whenever the hell he wants to stop----usually only a few hours. F and Thomas have been friends for a long time. And like old friends will do, there's a lot of teasing going on between them.
ME: Thanks for the coffee....but you guys were visiting together. Maybe I'm interrupting your work...
F: He has only worked thirty minutes all day, and then we started visiting! It is no problem!
THOMAS: No, ja, why should I work more than that? I'm having coffee and a cigarette. Hey, let me show you something...
He removed a CD from a beautiful paper sleeve. Turns out he'd made the sleeves and played on the CD, a limited edition of 500 hand-signed copies. He put the CD in the player and skipped ahead to track 8, which featured Thomas on what he called a flute---but he showed me the thing and it was about four feet long and looked like the tube was made out of thick-walled copper tubing.
The cut was described as a blues number but to me it had more of a jazz feeling to it, with a bass, electric guitar, drums, and Thomas on his giant flute. Actually pretty good music...
THOMAS: So how can I do things like this CD, or my other projects of art, when I would have to work all the time?
F: Yes, I think people work too much. What is the point of it? If you have enough to eat and smoke----
ME: Yeah, no shit. Thomas, you're lucky, doing this work that involves creativity and craftsmanship, in your own place with no boss standing over your shoulder...
F: Yes, and it is my job to come here to make sure he does not work too many hours. I do this by making him give me coffee...
ME: When I move to Vienna, maybe I can be the apprentice here. I'll sweep the floor and run some errands and that kind of shit, and maybe you can teach me rudimentary bookbinding.
THOMAS: First, I have to see your sweeping skills. F, where is the broom? FIND IT!
F: John, if you are his apprentice, then he will only work thirty minutes a week. It is a bad idea.
The shop is small, maybe the floor space of a good sized bedroom, with a loft above for storage of paper and equipment, built by Thomas. I noticed he's always barefoot...
I thought: this must have been what it was like when cities were filled with mom-and-pop businesses, (not vapid multi-national big-box retailers of bullshit) where friends could just drop by once in a while and shoot the shit with the proprietor, have a smoke, have a cup of coffee, talk about the world...
An old woman walked in with a book.
WOMAN: This is the book I mentioned earlier.
THOMAS: Yah, OK! I see. All right, what color for the cover?
WOMAN: Well, what colors can we choose from...?
THOMAS: Red, green, blue, green, orange, black of course---
They jabbered about this for a few minutes, then with that done, the four of us stood around talking, like it was the village post office. The old woman turned her attention to F and started talking to him.
THOMAS: John! Let me give you a close look at my papercutter.
So we went over there and he showed me the thing in great detail, showed me where you oil the moving parts, lifted the heavy but perfectly balanced lever that holds the blade...
...then he showed me his back room, where he has a shower and sink and countertop and rudimentary cooking equipment. That way "If I want to lock the doors and work until midnight I can, and then clean up or cook dinner or even sleep here if I am heavily involved in a project."
After about fifteen minutes, we went back to the old lady and F. The old lady left with a friendly goodbye and F's eyes widened and he exhaled deeply, exasperated.
F: Yes, I thought she would never stop talking to me!
ME: What was she talking about?
F: What was she NOT talking about?!
THOMAS: I knew this would happen. So I left F to take care of my customer's psychological needs.
F: And for that I should have one more cup of coffee.
ME: But that's the beauty of it, that we all have time to talk to each other and listen. Everyone else is so fucking busy all the time. Maybe the old lady is lonely and it made her feel good to talk to you.
F: Next time I will feel good, because she will listen to me talk for fifteen minutes about my cat, and also my hemheroids.
ME: Better her than us.
I spent two hours with these guys, laughing and bullshitting and philosophising and talking music and painting and culture and the madness of the modern world, which neither Thomas or F takes at all seriously. Finally I said: "I'm gonna say goodbye for now, fellas..."
THOMAS: Come again. Bring your broom! (laughter from Thomas and F.)
I left the place thinking of all the unusual people I've met in my life, some of whom have become good friends, and how lucky we are that eccentric and free-spirited people walk among us.
But it seems they're getting harder and harder to find, somehow...
-----
I got home and B said:
"We've been invited to join R and M at Kino am Dach (Movies on the Roof). We meet them at 8:30 and the movie starts at 9." I was tired from my long day but I wanted to meet R, who is a professor and his wife M, who works for the UN.So I made a quick supper for myself and tried to gather some energy.
F: He has only worked thirty minutes all day, and then we started visiting! It is no problem!
THOMAS: No, ja, why should I work more than that? I'm having coffee and a cigarette. Hey, let me show you something...
He removed a CD from a beautiful paper sleeve. Turns out he'd made the sleeves and played on the CD, a limited edition of 500 hand-signed copies. He put the CD in the player and skipped ahead to track 8, which featured Thomas on what he called a flute---but he showed me the thing and it was about four feet long and looked like the tube was made out of thick-walled copper tubing.
The cut was described as a blues number but to me it had more of a jazz feeling to it, with a bass, electric guitar, drums, and Thomas on his giant flute. Actually pretty good music...
THOMAS: So how can I do things like this CD, or my other projects of art, when I would have to work all the time?
F: Yes, I think people work too much. What is the point of it? If you have enough to eat and smoke----
ME: Yeah, no shit. Thomas, you're lucky, doing this work that involves creativity and craftsmanship, in your own place with no boss standing over your shoulder...
F: Yes, and it is my job to come here to make sure he does not work too many hours. I do this by making him give me coffee...
ME: When I move to Vienna, maybe I can be the apprentice here. I'll sweep the floor and run some errands and that kind of shit, and maybe you can teach me rudimentary bookbinding.
THOMAS: First, I have to see your sweeping skills. F, where is the broom? FIND IT!
F: John, if you are his apprentice, then he will only work thirty minutes a week. It is a bad idea.
The shop is small, maybe the floor space of a good sized bedroom, with a loft above for storage of paper and equipment, built by Thomas. I noticed he's always barefoot...
I thought: this must have been what it was like when cities were filled with mom-and-pop businesses, (not vapid multi-national big-box retailers of bullshit) where friends could just drop by once in a while and shoot the shit with the proprietor, have a smoke, have a cup of coffee, talk about the world...
An old woman walked in with a book.
WOMAN: This is the book I mentioned earlier.
THOMAS: Yah, OK! I see. All right, what color for the cover?
WOMAN: Well, what colors can we choose from...?
THOMAS: Red, green, blue, green, orange, black of course---
They jabbered about this for a few minutes, then with that done, the four of us stood around talking, like it was the village post office. The old woman turned her attention to F and started talking to him.
THOMAS: John! Let me give you a close look at my papercutter.
So we went over there and he showed me the thing in great detail, showed me where you oil the moving parts, lifted the heavy but perfectly balanced lever that holds the blade...
...then he showed me his back room, where he has a shower and sink and countertop and rudimentary cooking equipment. That way "If I want to lock the doors and work until midnight I can, and then clean up or cook dinner or even sleep here if I am heavily involved in a project."
After about fifteen minutes, we went back to the old lady and F. The old lady left with a friendly goodbye and F's eyes widened and he exhaled deeply, exasperated.
F: Yes, I thought she would never stop talking to me!
ME: What was she talking about?
F: What was she NOT talking about?!
THOMAS: I knew this would happen. So I left F to take care of my customer's psychological needs.
F: And for that I should have one more cup of coffee.
ME: But that's the beauty of it, that we all have time to talk to each other and listen. Everyone else is so fucking busy all the time. Maybe the old lady is lonely and it made her feel good to talk to you.
F: Next time I will feel good, because she will listen to me talk for fifteen minutes about my cat, and also my hemheroids.
ME: Better her than us.
I spent two hours with these guys, laughing and bullshitting and philosophising and talking music and painting and culture and the madness of the modern world, which neither Thomas or F takes at all seriously. Finally I said: "I'm gonna say goodbye for now, fellas..."
THOMAS: Come again. Bring your broom! (laughter from Thomas and F.)
I left the place thinking of all the unusual people I've met in my life, some of whom have become good friends, and how lucky we are that eccentric and free-spirited people walk among us.
But it seems they're getting harder and harder to find, somehow...
-----
I got home and B said:
"We've been invited to join R and M at Kino am Dach (Movies on the Roof). We meet them at 8:30 and the movie starts at 9." I was tired from my long day but I wanted to meet R, who is a professor and his wife M, who works for the UN.So I made a quick supper for myself and tried to gather some energy.
The main library in Vienna.
The round thing at the top is a restaurant; dine indoors or out.
Behind the restaurant is where we saw the film under the stars.
The pyramid-like structure is pretty impressive.
The round thing at the top is a restaurant; dine indoors or out.
Behind the restaurant is where we saw the film under the stars.
The pyramid-like structure is pretty impressive.
Here's a view from the top.
As you approach the edge you don't see the steps until you're close;
As you approach the edge you don't see the steps until you're close;
it looks like you're approaching an unprotected edge of a roof with a sheer drop.
We met them at the restaurant, had a quick drink, then sat down for the film---Jim Jarmusch's NIGHT ON EARTH. It was in the original languages, (English, French, Italian, and Finnish) with German subtitles. The film consists of five stories involving taxi drivers, set in Los Angeles, New York, Rome, Paris, and Helsinki.
So I understood the first two segments, but the last three required some reading of subtitles in German, about 40% of which I understood. I'd seen the film before (with English subtitles for the foreign parts) so I knew what was going on. Good film. My favorite sequence was the one set in Rome, where Roberto Benigni causes his passenger, a priest, to drop dead from a heart attack due to Benigni's constant jabbering about his sexual conquests.
It was a warm night, and even in the middle of town with all its light pollution, you could look up and see the stars.
It was a warm night, and even in the middle of town with all its light pollution, you could look up and see the stars.
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