New York Memories





New York 1987: A year of dispute and agitation. That year, 16 people died in a Amtrak train crash in Chase. The so-called Iran-Contra affair has been blown. It was the biggest scandal during Ronald Reagan’s tenure. The USA had sold weapons to Iran, the proceeds of which went to the Contra rebels in Nicaragua. On October 19th, 1987, the US markets plunged into the void. The biggest drop for the stock market in one day ended the excesses and naivety of the 1980s. The black Monday went down in history as the worst day. In addition, hurricanes over the Philippines and two plane crashes caused turmoil. No wonder that this year the antidepressant »Fluoxetine«, better known as »Prozac« conquered the market.

Nevertheless, it was an exciting time, a year of radical change and a new beginning for 23-year-old John, who has just arrived fresh. Fassbinder’s play »Der Müll, die Stadt und der Tod« (The Garbage, the City and Death) was staged. He listened to the sounds of U2, he felt alive, he knew it was the beginning of his artistic career.


Without a plan of where the journey is going, enjoying the moments as they come, he loved that feeling. John had little money, but as an artist he would establish himself, if not today, then in the coming days. His optimistic desire to achieve everything he had imagined inspired him. A desire that is only inherent in youthfulness. He lived in New York City, he was in the right spot. At night he went to various jazz bars, philosophized with like-minded people about the future, shared projects. He hadn’t been getting much sleep in the last few weeks. A particular encounter never went out of his head, this encounter forced him to stay at home. It happened on a Sunday afternoon, when he was smoking a cigarette on the balcony, when he spotted a young woman across the street from his apartment. The woman was older than him, he estimated her at the beginning of her 30s, she was beautiful with long, dark hair. She lived one floor below and John could look directly into her bedroom. The light curtains blew in the wind. The woman saw John and went to her bed. She spread her legs and satisfied herself. She knew that John was watching her and she liked it. She stroked her labia, her breasts, she masturbated in front of his eyes, until climax. Then she ran back to the window and closed the curtains. John was briefly petrified, his untouched cigarette fell on the balcony floor. An incredible experience that inspired him now.

He went back to his desk and started sketching. He put the exciting experience with his neighbour on paper and since then he could think of nothing else. It was a silent agreement. After a while, he was only waiting for the woman in apartment B to let him watch again. He studied her touches, the speed at which she stroked her clitoris, the pressure she applied. He would learn what the women liked, like a schoolboy he manifested everything in his sketches. John even gave her a name, he called her Charlotte.


1987 was a hot summer in New York City. John turned up the music and danced. He smoked more than before, several times a day he went out on the balcony to see Charlotte. She seduced him in a certain way, she provoked him, perhaps he would dare to knock on her door, an uncertainty that brought them both great happiness. When she discovered John, she barely revealed herself halfway, mostly wearing a dress which she lifted a little for him. Then she sat at the edge of the bed and showed him her glorious femininity. The black, thick pubic hair, her soft labia, her temple. Sometimes the curtains carried by the wind blocked his vision. John ran back and forth on the little balcony, Charlotte smiled. A woman like her knew exactly what she wanted. She already had a few lovers in her life, the play between attraction and reaction was very familiar to her.


One significant evening, as John recalls today, he thought of a theatre production. All the collected fantasies developed into a complete work. He was the spectator of a game of pleasure and it was only a matter of time before it would not be performed again, just like Fassbinder’s play. That night Charlotte was completely undressed for the first time. She went to the window and stroked her naked body. She pushed the light curtains aside, she wanted John to watch her closely. Then she plunged deep into herself with her fingers, the other hand circled around her clitoris. The hands alternated, the tempo changed constantly. She continued to spread her legs, but stopped. He could see she was hot. Her stiff nipples shone in the sunlight and it was as if the moisture would spread all over her body as she stroked her fingers, which were still vibrating in her, over her belly, up to her breasts, along her neck. He saw her shivering and then quit, always briefly when she was about to come. She dropped her head backwards, in ecstasy she looked at John from time to time. She danced to the light summer rhythms, the natural movements of her body.


Afterwards John didn’t go back to the desk immediately as usual to capture everything in his sketches, he touched himself, he masturbated and came instantly. The sticky juice ran down his fingers and he enjoyed this feeling of unattainable joy. It was the orgasm of a young man. The next day, when he got up at about two o’ clock in the afternoon and ran to the balcony, the apartment stood empty, leaving only the curtains behind.

It was 1987 in New York City. John associates this period above all with the beginnings of his career, which emerged from nothing and today has made him a famous erotic painter. He often thinks of the moments with Charlotte, the virginity that laid dormant in him and the incessant brooding about what would have happened if he had knocked on her door.