Version VI 6.7 2004 — 2018
Persönliche Website von Malte Müller. Grafik/Code,
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Texte über Musik, Raum, Gestaltung und Kunst. Fotos.

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Architectural volume sets me free. Something about the measured, decisive nature about the act of building seems to leave me in a calm state of mind. Event imagined architecture or music evoking vast spatial configurations affect me in this way. The oppresive void-weight of contained spaces frees my mind, as if its unfelt, but persistently imagined pressure is required to keep my thoughts together, to crystallize my brain and soul into a state of peaceful creativity. I wonder if this is a mere reminder of the only dream I can remember from my childhood: A gargantuan black ball of infinite mass and heaviness rolling or falling, ever coming close to destroy a small potted plant, but – to the best of my knowledge – never actually doing so. I remember the feeling of tremendous weight converging with total weightlessness. Complete stasis, black float.


Psychological Transit Notes, Kuala Lumpur

When I was a child, I would sneak from my room on saturday mornings, and switch on the TV. I would watch CNN World News, not catching much of its content, but savouring a diffuse internationalism that was lacking from my environment. It was of endless fascination to me. My favourite segment was the global weather forecast. It always included Kuala Lumpur, showing a hazy, grainy cityscape as filmed by some rooftop-mounted camera. The city’s name and its dreamy optics resonated with me every time, and I would give in to daydreaming about this place and others, that somehow were supposed to lie on this same earth I was beginning my life on. (03-31-17)

The specific south east asian rain poured down yesterday, observed from our condo on the 27th floor. The rain announced itself by a thick haze settling down in a matter of seconds, descending from the sky, filling the voids between arcologies. The light did not fade, but is dispersed, refractured in a different way. Then, the rain started. A grey veil, blending with KLCC’s monolithic architecture. With it come the lightning strikes and thunderclaps, feeling close, almost as if originating from inside our room. (01-04-17)

(Aus meinen Reisenotizen in Kuala Lumpur)


Psychological Transit Notes, Singapore

Night food market across from Fu Lu Show Complex, stall after stall clad in foam and polymer plastic, covered with laminated color prints of laksa bowls, tou foo and noodles and neon-colored jelly desserts. Everything here is good, if a single dish was not, its vendor would be driven from their stall by a mob of blue-collar workers. Here, they gather to slurp mie and use their Samsung phones to watch the amped up stuff that evolved from american sitcoms in the studios of Chengdu. The satay tou foo may be the best chinese I had in months, despite the knifelike edges of the thin plastic spoon they handed me to ensure I finish every last drip of the spicy sauce. (03-28-17)

Lounging on one of the grey stretchers that line the Park Royal’s fifth-floor pool, the sounds of Pickering Street blend into Carsten Joost’s Ambush playing on my headphones. Unable to separate the faint pink noise that softly lines the track from the humming of cars. Singapore is measured and efficient, foregoing the transitional elements of urban life. Citizens and visitors alike are expected to be driven, moved, teleported from capsule to capsule, all but removing the urban fabric as ground for experience and life. There is soft light and well-kept brutalist architecture. There is Perrier with lime and always a hawker stall close by. Nowhere to be found is Tokyo’s depth and profoundly logical spirituality nor Seoul’s frantic pace and ubiquitous lust for consumption. It is an irritating place, but by now a far cry from Disneyland with the Death Penalty. An amalgam of soft places, connected by a pragmatic system of hyperlinks. An exceptionally fine void has formed around me, from the greenery draping concrete isohypses above to the domes of Esplanade, extending to the far right of my view. I am at ease, but the calm does not reach my heart. It may be emotional boredom, it may be my restless nature. (04-12-17)

The faint iridiscent glitter of small square tiles rushing past below me, reflecting Singapore’s hazy cloudscapes, distorted by my lazy swim strokes as I dive the length of the pool, imagining the view of an southeast asian metropolis gliding past, wondering whether it will still be there when I open my eyes. (04-12-17)

(Aus meinen Reisenotizen in Singapur.)


Rules for Packing
  1. Every place is warmer and less windy than Hamburg (except for San Francisco on summer evenings).
  2. Whatever happens: One bag only. No checked luggage ever.
  3. You despise overpacked luggage more than you enjoy the greater flexibility of having more things with you.
  4. Everything made from cloth needs to be in a compartment in your bag, a mesh compartment, army-rolled or velcro-strapped.
  5. If you have to bring a heavy item, it should be the center of your travel wardrobe. It should be wearable every day, especially when in transit.
  6. If there is an occasion that requires a specific outfit or equipment, the rest of your luggage should be organized around that occasion.
  7. Your luggage and all compartments have to be light. No leather, no canvas. Use Xpac, Dyneema and Cordura.
  8. On the move, you will want to wear functional garments (~ light, warm, many pockets) disproportionally. Pack those, pack less of everything else (the ACRONYM® rule).
  9. Heavy and/or chunky footwear is only acceptable when you never have to carry it in your luggage. It needs to be versatile enough to be worn every day.
  10. If, in a fit of radical decision-making, you travel with one pair of shoes only, they need to be perfect in fit and optics.
  11. If you are on the move for more than five consecutive days, bring an electric razor to shave your head.

To be extended.

The Year 2016
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