Love, Love Me Do!
Kevin Risch
Singing his way to stardom 
Losing his dreams to death 
Showing his art to the world 
Paul chooses a provincial nest 
Hoping to find sounds painted 
Admiring his music, not color 
Surprising - I discovered that 
Paintings can also be loved 
PMC Impressions 
Katharina Funke 
Various whispering voices 
wah-wah silently in empty rooms A green queen turns blue shiveringly
A green queen turns blue shiveringly 
Miscarried provocations 
In brown-orange-red-pink 
shout together on white walls 
Bowie's large yellow face 
spewing 
in John's room 
vivid only because of a famous name 
Panic pale red 'round 
Plastic plantations on plywood 
Arty arrowheads amaze analysing amateurs 
Unspoken words try to reach one's mind 
but they fail in large size 
Loudly laudatory lord 
pretends to be able to understand 
but red turns blue 
green turns white 
orange turns grey 
on a rainy provincial day 
in Rubens' native town 
Artist's Mystery 
Michael Prinz 
Don't tell this SECRET 
Paul let his children draw them 
Then signed his own name 
Grown-Up Kids 
Michael Prinz 
Artists think different 
just like little children do 
Painted youth of mind 
Naive and cheerful 
eager to explore new art 
into the unknown 
Displaying this art 
is a tricky decision 
'Cause you have to share 
And not everyone 
Is willing to open up, 
let the message in 
Microphone or Brush I: Lullaby 
Kathrin Latsch 
Twinkle, twinkle, little star 
How I wonder what you are 
In the past you sang like a saint 
And now you shock us with your paint 
Twinkle, twinkle, little star 
We all wonder what you are 
Microphone or Brush II: Haiku 
Kathrin Latsch 
Paul as a Painter? 
I cannot imagine this 
Paul is a singer! 
Sir Paul 
Claudia Kettner 
I recently 
saw Paul McCartney on TV, 
singing a song. 
Now that everybody can see 
his paintings 
this seemed strange to me. 
Is he really a singer? 
Peeling Paul's Onion: Field Trip, June 1999 
C.W. 
"peel[ing] off the layers of the onion... 
the idea of layers is important, 
psychologically as well as with paint" 
(Paul McCartney in an interview with Wolfgang Suttner) 
We gathered in a knot 
for a magical mystery tour. 
How to slash through the seven seals of the paintings? 
Words helped us scrape off secrets; 
Scratches claw deep in the blackness, 
revealing the colors beneath. 
Stomping up state-of-the-art steel steps, 
past greener queens 
into the upper-level summer heat, 
pulling off our jackets like onion layers, 
we find beach towels and sharks on canvas. 
Young guide drones us into passivity 
while big mountain faces stare. 
Strong yellow Celts wake us up. 
Surprises underneath the varnish spill out. 
We leave, loosened into other worlds. 
Onions have no center, says Ibsen; 
But the process of peeling--that's the thing. 
ART 
Claudia Duwe 
art / part I / techniques 
a painter paints pictures 
a singer sings song 
can a painter sing a song? 
can a singer paint a picture? 
could be that some of them can 
could be that songs create images 
they just have to be seen 
could be that paintings hum melodies 
they just have to be heard. 
could be that art is art. 
for the one who lets it be. 
art / part II / art meets heart 
could be that you don't really need ears  to hear the melody of a painting.
to hear the melody of a painting. 
could be that you don't really need eyes 
to see the image a song creates. 
could be you just need your heart. 
art / part III / a new definition 
could be that art is not art 
until it touches a heart. 
could be that art is not a 'thing': 
art is a process of action and reaction. 
art / epilogue / question of dependence 
art depends on the action of human beings 
to be created 
art depends on the reaction of human beings 
to be art 
Unspoken Words: Silent Monologue 
Julia Albrecht 
words 
so hard to speak 
i know i will explode if i don't let them out 
i'm trying to speak but no sound appears 
why is it so hard to find the right moment to speak? 
The chance is here, i could say it now, in this instance, 
just speak those words out, right from my heart 
but i just can't 
and the moment passes by in silence 
too late 
my words remain unspoken