The Birds of Berlin

By Aloysius Altman

It’s about the moment when work transcends the connection of being created and launches into becoming a physical force and its own registration in history.     -David Goodman

In 1965, James Baldwin claimed the painter Beuford Delaney taught him about light. “I learned about light from Beuford

David Goodman

Delaney, the light contained in every thing, in every surface, in every face.”

Once, on LSD I stormed into a clothing store on Broadway, knocked racks of clothing over and demanded that the clerks sell me a coat as if they previously vehemently refused. It was the artist David Goodman who convinced the clerks not to call the police, shelled out the money for the coat, and explained to me that no one was trying to stop me from buying the coat as he whisked me from the store and led me back to the East Village apartment of a friend.

On another occasion, after ingesting and inhaling every illicit substance presented to me in a budget, midtown hotel room, I found myself in Radio City Music Hall, at a concert of a band that I had never heard before, amidst people I didn’t know. I started to nod out. To me, it seemed as if I was falling asleep except that I sensed I was keeling far to one side, then the other, like a dingy in a tumultuous sea. It was the artist David Goodman who whisked me from the concert, walking with his arm over my shoulder from midtown Manhattan, across the Brooklyn Bridge where we then walked down Montague Street, purchased Black and White cookies, and ate them on the promenade, gazing across the East River at Manhattan’s sparkling skyline until I safely fell asleep, my head on his shoulder.

Where did he come from? How did he know I needed saving? The artist David Goodman was always by my side.

Broken Area. 6 x 8 ft. Paint, Pinon Charcoal, Plastic, Ink, Graphite, Suede Cord on Paper. 2012. Goodman

I share these anecdotes to neither contradict nor support Baldwin’s assertion. Rather, I share them to make clear that although I’m no Baldwin, he is not the only writer enlightened, even saved by a painter. I also present these cases in an effort to consider what light is, to raise the question of whether or not light is something seen or something felt. Can someone we don’t love teach us about light? If they tried, would we listen?

As to why I had a habit of gorging myself on any mind, body, and spirit altering substance presented, let’s refrain from delving into issues of self-rejection and self-hatred, and say that I, like so many, was in pursuit of light, of not just seeing light, of not even just understanding it, but feeling like light. Every word and every sentence I wrote, every action and reaction was the seeking of this unknowable sensation, how light spills but doesn’t make a mess, how light enlivens but does not swell or suffocate.

The artist David Goodman knows this pursuit of light. Every mark, every gesture of his work testifies to light, the light that is obvious as well as the light we overlook, the light trapped in things.

Essex and Rivington, September Evening. 16.5×14.5 in. Paper, ball-point pen, paint, foil tape, gold-leaf. 2010. Goodman

What Baldwin learned from Delaney is what I’ve learned from David Goodman. The lesson is not light, but the patience and stillness required to recognize and consider light, both that which is within oneself and that which exists around us.

Goodman continues to share this lesson. He does not do so purposefully or in a tone of self-righteousness so he doesn’t come across as pedantic. He shares the experience. Consider this. In his own words, Goodman is currently, “focused on unearthing connection to the present moment… relating through mapping and gesture, my interactions with the world around me.” His initial idea was “to collaborate with Realities United—a light architecture firm—and build both paintings and a light score/composition based on my movements and gestures of creating them.  The light would then be projected into the environment of the studio space and surrounding location—in effort to interpret the experience (painting), and project the energy (light) back into the landscape.”

8.5 x 11 in. paper, paint, gold-leaf, LED mini-light. 2010. Goodman

Unfortunately, money became an issue for Goodman. “I ran aground with some budget issues, so I’m re-positioning the project to be more in-line with my energies in the studio and the idea of creating work that begins as a solid form ( a room covered in paper and material) which will then undergo multiple physical transformations to become a series of paintings and constructed books.”

In addition to his work, Goodman has taken up the practice of ornithology since arriving in Berlin. Bird songs come at dawn, celebrating the sun—a very big light. Here is Goodman’s first ever recording of the rarest birds of Berlin. Serendipitously, he shared it with me the morning after I received yet another phone call comprised of recorded threats to cut off my electricity.

What I took from the recording is what I hope you take too. Listen closely, and you can hear Goodman whispering for a friend, us, to be still and listen, and let the light of the birds of Berlin sing in.

LISTEN TO THE BIRDS OF BERLIN**