It was raining, in a figurative sense too, when I met Alina Lupu on a bench in Amsterdam.
When arranging my interview, I had apologised for only being able to buy her a coffee for her time to drink outside in the rain because of the pandemic. I had thought of an old interview Adrian Piper did with the New York Times Magazine, where the journalist had mentioned how he had dined her at one of the fanciest restaurants in Berlin — perhaps to discredit her a little, I’m still not sure. But I didn’t mention it to Lupu. I knew we were also going to talk about activism and art, but neither of us had studied at Harvard and I was not working for a prestigious media house. Read more
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