On Friday, Curbed re-blogged an item from W that detailed Klaus Biesenbach’s living situation. They paraphrased the introductory anecdote from that piece in which “the curator once stripped his Mexico City hotel room of the telephone, TV remote, even the curtains, keeping them stacked neatly in the closet until he departed.” We believe the scene deserved fuller attention. Below, a reenactment.
A Mexican hotel room. A chair.
Klaus, sitting on the floor, is trying to remove the phone jack from the wall. He pulls with both hands, panting.
Housekeeper: Nothing to be done.
Klaus: [Gloomily] Why not?
Housekeeper: [He looks around the room.] Well there’s nothing to clean, is there?
Klaus: I hate small objects. [He stops pulling at the jack.] I thought you were gone forever.
Housekeeper: [Irritated] Our hotel offers daily room cleaning as well as nightly turndown service, that was all laid out with your assistant James Franco when he booked the room. What happened to all the furniture?
Klaus: I put everything in the closet. It’s too much for one man. [Pause. Cheerfully.] On the other hand what’s the good of losing heart now, that’s what I say. We should have thought of it a million years ago, in the nineties.
Housekeeper: [Hurt, coldly] May one inquire where His Highness spent the night?
Klaus: On the terrace.
Housekeeper: The terrace? Where?
Klaus [In Teutonic monotone]: Over there.
Housekeeper: Didn’t they beat you?
Klaus: They? The college students on Spring Break? [Pause] Certainly they beat me.
Housekeeper: Why didn’t you take off your boots? The room is filthy. Boots must be taken off every day, I’m tired of telling you that. Why don’t you listen to me?
Klaus: I’m going.
He does not move.
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