Jan Pautsch / Headhunter specializing in Product, Design and Digital Transformation / Global Network / Berlin based / Competencies, Practices and selected Cases

Dezember 16, 2018

THESE DAYS

NYC / Williamsburg / 1996


I arrived in NYC in the winter of 1995. I came to stay for a year, but I fell in love forever. On my way there, by chance, I found a cheap camera, so I started taking pictures of all the stories as I lived through them. I didn't develop them, though, or even looked at the negatives. I just kept them and brought them back with me - thousands of undeveloped photos, hidden away in a suitcase with collections of other writings, drawings and souvenirs from my past. Now, digitalized and reborn, I can share these grainy memories of something really good.

— THESE DAYS is a visual diary of Jan Pautsch / © All rights reserved / Get in touch — 

Dezember 15, 2018

The Piss of God


Blizzard. The city brought to a grinding halt in minutes. No cars, no people, no activity. Just snow and then the sound of fire engines. Then a moment I will never forget. A tall black man standing there, in the middle of St. Mark's Place, crazed with laughter, his face stretched towards the dark, heavy sky: "Man, this is the piss of God."

Dezember 15, 2018

The Crow


"The Crow" moved into 57 Hope. Tall, angry-looking, and dressed in black, he kept to himself - mysterious and unapproachable. Rumors spread that he was running a porn studio out of his loft. One day, he was sitting on Steve's porch with his legs spread wide, beer in one hand and spitting at the sun. Later, Steve asked me to give his love to Morgen, if he didn't come back. Then there was a crashing noise below my window – two guys with steel pipes in their hands and rage in their eyes, surrounded by locals gaping at the scene. I knew that Steve's gun was loaded.

Dezember 14, 2018

The Kiss


It was one of those late Dick’s or Frankies-nights, heading back from the East Village to Williamsburg. Waiting for the L-train to come. Long after midnight, nobody else on the platform besides one lonely, fucked-up gutter punk, who kept coming closer and started aggressively begging for money. Usually, I would have given him a dollar. This time, though, I somehow didn't want to. I tried hard to just ignore him, but my attitude seemed to only upset him. He began gesticulating more and more wildly and yelled incoherently at me. No escape. No help. Unpleasant situation. Minutes stretched on endlessly, my fear grew. Finally the train roared into the station – my salvation. Suddenly, the guy grabbed me, hissed: "Happy Birthday Brother!" and thrust his tongue into my mouth. I stumbled on to the train, filled with disgust. The door closed and the train rumbled into the dark.