Ich habe einen tollen Künstler entdeckt. Für mich ein interessanter und sehr kreativer Mensch.
Ich mag kreative Köpfe. Dieser Künstler ist vielseitig: er schreibt, malt und bildhauert. Ganz besonders gefällt mir sein Witz, sein Esprit, seine auch satirische und zynische Art und sein Schreibstil. Es ist mir ein Vergnügen ihn zu lesen, seine Bilder und seine Skulpturen zu betrachten. Ich mag seine Werke.
Lieber Roman, ich bedanke mich herzlich für die Genehmigung dieser Veröffentlichung.
Leben
In einem Stuttgarter Künstler-Elternhaus geboren; nach Schulabschluss Lehre zum Schweizer Degen; danach schulische Weiterbildung; Höhere Fachschule für das Grafische Gewerbe Stuttgart; Meisterschüler bei Prof Albrecht Appelhans, Stuttgart: Kunst- und Psychologiestudium; Basel, München; Assistent von Prof. Alfred Finsterer, als Layouter bei einem Verlag, Stuttgart; Privatschüler für Skulptur bei Prof. J. W. Fehrle, Schwäbisch Gmünd; Art-Direktor in einer Werbeagentur, Stuttgart; Kurzzeitig Kreativ-Direktor für einen Konzern in NRW; neben dieser beruflichen Tätigkeit begann Niethammer Erzählungen zu schreiben; seit 1973 arbeitet er freischaffend als Bildender Künstler, Bildhauer und Autor.
Zahlreiche Ausstellungen im In- und Ausland; Skulpturen im öffentlichen Raum; Buch- und Text-Veröffentlichungen; Dozententätigkeit.
Der Autor
Niethammer arbeitet als Schriftsteller unter dem Pseudonym Roman RomanoW. Mit den russischen Romanows hat das aber nichts zu tun. Das Pseudonym entstand aus einem früheren Ausspruch des Vaters, der den im Gras liegenden und in Wolkenbildern träumenden Sohn ermahnte seine Aufgaben zu meistern, statt „Romane ohne Worte“ zu schreiben. Als dann viel später der Sohn ein Pseudonym suchte um die beiden Kunstberufe zu trennen, entstand aus „Roman ohne Worte“ RomanoW. Fertig war das Pseudonym
Unter diesem Kunstnamen entstehen Romane, Erzählungen und satirische Kurzgeschichten.
Der Künstler ist Mitglied im FDA Berlin (Freier Deutscher Autorenverband)
Im Juli 2009 wurden erstmals in einer Radio-Lesestunde von 23:00 bis 24:15 Uhr Roman RomanoWs erotische Erzählungen von einer Kölner Rundfunkstation gesendet. Moderiert und gelesen von Nicole Rauscher.
Dinner for two
Erzählung
Der Intercity hatte noch niemals Verspätung. Wenigstens noch nie an einem Donnerstag wie dem heutigen. Das wusste er schon am Morgen im Badezimmer, wo die Entscheidung zu treffen war, ob die Stoppeln stehen bleiben oder abrasiert werden sollten. Den Entschluss zu einem Sechstagebart fällte die Uhr. Ansonsten war nicht viel zu entscheiden in dieser frühen Stunde. Pulverkaffee und ein paar hastige Salzletten waren kein Frühstück wie früher zu Hause, aber im Tausch mit 15 Minuten mehr Schlaf unbezahlbar. Dorothee würde pünktlich sein, das wusste er. Kein Kunststück. Der Intercity hatte noch niemals Verspätung gehabt. Oder doch?
Er stahl sich die Zeit um nachzurechnen, wie oft der Zug und er in den vergangenen zehn Jahren zur annähernd gleichen Zeit in den Bahnhof einliefen und wann, wer zuerst da war. Der alte Wecker auf dem Küchentisch tickte unbarmherzig. Keine Zeit, keine Zeit... Unter diesem Druck konnte er nicht nachdenken. Doch selbst unter günstigeren Umständen wäre das Ergebnis keinesfalls anders ausgefallen, der Zug war Gewinner, seit Dorothee mit der Bahn fuhr.
Im Sommer noch hatte er gehofft, sie für eine Anreise am Vorabend zu begeistern. Sie hatte sich seinen Vorschlag ruhig angehört und dann abgelehnt. Nein, sie wollte nicht am Abend in einen Zug steigen, wenn die Menschen verschwitzt und verschlissen von der Arbeit kämen. Morgens rochen Mitreisende nach frischer Seife, Brötchen und Kaffee, und Dorothee behauptete sogar, dass man ihnen die Strapazen vom Vortag nicht mehr ansehen könnte. Nein, Dorothee wollte nur morgens in einen Zug steigen. Gegen diese Form der Argumentation gab es kein Mittel.
An einem Spätnachmittag im Herbst hatte er sich dann ihre Argumente zu eigen gemacht und die schlechte Witterung vor der Haustüre zur Hilfe genommen, um sie am Abend von der Rückfahrt mit der Bahn abzuhalten. Er hatte keine Fallen aufgestellt wie ein Jäger. Eher arglos bat er sie ihre Lage zu überdenken und bei ihm zu übernachten. Das Wetter war novemberlich, der Nebel nass und das Feuer im Kamin knisterte einladend. Nichts schien gegen ein Dableiben zu sprechen. Sie waren den ganzen Tag in seinem Bett gewesen, hatten das stürmische Feuer ihrer beider Körper, ekstatische und Schlummerstunden genossen und sich in den der Ernüchterung ähnelnden Pausen immerwährende Liebe geschworen. Eine gemeinsam durchträumte Nacht wäre für ihn das Höchste gewesen. Aber sie stand auf, prüfte ihren makellos schönen Körper vor dem Spiegel und seinen Augen, angelte die in großer Hast verloren gegangenen Wäschestücke zusammen und kleidete sich in einer so erotisierenden Weise an, dass ihm die Sinne schwanden.
Später beim ihrem „Dinner for two“ in dem kleinen Lokal am Bahnhof, wo die Kellner sie längst als Stammgäste begrüßten, nahm sie seine rechte Hand zwischen ihre Hände, so, wie seine Mutter ihm als Kind die Hände nach einer Schneeballschlacht erwärmte. Er schmolz dahin...
"Liebster", hauchte Dorothee und ihre Stimme schien in Tränen gebettet, "ich müsste weinen, wenn ich daran dächte, wie wundervoll eine Nacht zu zweit sein könnte, aber was würden die Leute denken, wo wir doch erst seit zehn Jahren verlobt sind..."
© 2011 by Roman RomanoW
I found a great artist. For me, an interesting and very creative person.
I like creative heads. This artist is versatile: he writes, paints and sculpts. Most particularly I like his wit, his wit, his satirical and cynical way, and his writing style. It is a pleasure to read it to look at his paintings and his sculptures. I like his work.
Dear Roman, I thank you for the approval of this publication.
Life
In a Stuttgart artist-parents born, and after graduation teaching at the Swiss Epee, after-school training; College for the printing trade Stuttgart; master student of Prof. Albrecht Appelhans, New York: Art and psychology; Basel, Munich, assistant to Prof. Alfred Finsterer , as a layout for a publishing company, Stuttgart; private school for sculpture with Prof. JW Fehrle, Schwäbisch Gmünd, art director at an advertising agency, Stuttgart; short term creative director for a company in North Rhine-Westphalia, in addition to this professional activity began to write Niethammer stories; Since 1973 he works as a freelance visual artist, sculptor and author.
Numerous exhibitions at home and abroad, public sculptures, book and text publications, faculty activities.
The author
Niethammer is working as a writer under the pseudonym Roman Romanov. With the Russian Romanovs has nothing to do. The nickname came from an earlier statement by the father, to master the grass in the past, telling pictures in the clouds dreaming son his duties, instead of writing "novels without words". When, much later sought the son is a pseudonym for the two professions separate art, arose from "novel without words' Romanov. Ready was the pen name
In the name of art created novels, short stories and satirical short stories.
The artist is a member of the FDA Berlin (Free Association of German author)
In July 2009, were first sent in a radio-reading session from 23:00 to 24:15 Clock Roman Romanov erotic stories of a Cologne radio station. Moderated and read by Nicole Rauscher.
http://www.art-de-moor.de
Dinner for two
Story
The Inter City had never late. At least, never on a Thursday, like today. This he did in the morning in the bathroom, where the decision was taken to be whether the stubble remain or to be shaved. The decision to a six-day beard cut down the Clock. Otherwise, not much was to decide at this early hour. Instant coffee and a few hasty salt Latvians were no breakfast as it used to unaffordable at home, but in exchange for 15 minutes more sleep. Dorothy would be on time, he knew. No big deal. The Inter City had never been late. Or is it?
He stole the time to working out how often the train and he poured in over the past ten years to approximately the same time in the station and when, who came first. The old clock on the kitchen table was ticking relentlessly. No time, no time ... Under this pressure, thinking he could not. But even under more favorable circumstances, the result would not have been different, the train was the winner, since Dorothy went by train.
In the summer, yet he was hoping to inspire them for arrival the night before. She had quietly listened to his proposal and then rejected. No, they did not want to get on a train in the evening when people come sweaty and worn out from work. Travelled morning smelled of fresh soap, bread and coffee, and Dorothee even claimed that to them the hardships of the previous day, could no longer watch. No, Dorothy wanted to get on a train in the morning. Against this form of argument, there was no remedy.
Late one afternoon in the fall, he had then made their own arguments and the bad weather outside the front door for assistance made to them in the evening to prevent their return trip by train. He had set up any traps like a hunter. Rather naively, he asked them to reconsider their position and to stay with him. The weather was November, wet fog and the fire crackled in the fireplace inviting. Nothing seemed to speak against a remain. They were all day in bed have been had the fire of their stormy two bodies, ecstatic and cuddle hours and enjoyed swore in the disillusionment resembling breaks everlasting love. A common dreamed night for him would have been the highest. But she got up, checked her immaculately beautiful body in the mirror and his eyes, was fishing in a great hurry lost along previous garments and dressed himself in such an erotic way, that he fainted.
Later at their "Dinner for Two" in the little restaurant at the train station, which welcomed the waiter for more than regulars, she took his right hand between her hands, just as his mother was heated as a child's hands after a snowball fight. He melted away ...
"Dearest," whispered Dorothy, her voice a bed in tears, "I would cry if I thought about how wonderful a night could be a couple, but what would people think, even though we are engaged only in ten years. .. "
© 2011 by Roman Romanov
I found a great artist. For me, an interesting and very creative person.
I like creative heads. This artist is versatile: he writes, paints and sculpts. Most particularly I like his wit, his wit, his satirical and cynical way, and his writing style. It is a pleasure to read it to look at his paintings and his sculptures. I like his work.
Dear Roman, I thank you for the approval of this publication.
Life
In a Stuttgart artist-parents born, and after graduation teaching at the Swiss Epee, after-school training; College for the printing trade Stuttgart; master student of Prof. Albrecht Appelhans, New York: Art and psychology; Basel, Munich, assistant to Prof. Alfred Finsterer , as a layout for a publishing company, Stuttgart; private school for sculpture with Prof. JW Fehrle, Schwäbisch Gmünd, art director at an advertising agency, Stuttgart; short term creative director for a company in North Rhine-Westphalia, in addition to this professional activity began to write Niethammer stories; Since 1973 he works as a freelance visual artist, sculptor and author.
Numerous exhibitions at home and abroad, public sculptures, book and text publications, faculty activities.
The author
Niethammer is working as a writer under the pseudonym Roman Romanov. With the Russian Romanovs has nothing to do. The nickname came from an earlier statement by the father, to master the grass in the past, telling pictures in the clouds dreaming son his duties, instead of writing "novels without words". When, much later sought the son is a pseudonym for the two professions separate art, arose from "novel without words' Romanov. Ready was the pen name
In the name of art created novels, short stories and satirical short stories.
The artist is a member of the FDA Berlin (Free Association of German author)
In July 2009, were first sent in a radio-reading session from 23:00 to 24:15 Clock Roman Romanov erotic stories of a Cologne radio station. Moderated and read by Nicole Rauscher.
http://www.art-de-moor.de
Dinner for two
Story
The Inter City had never late. At least, never on a Thursday, like today. This he did in the morning in the bathroom, where the decision was taken to be whether the stubble remain or to be shaved. The decision to a six-day beard cut down the Clock. Otherwise, not much was to decide at this early hour. Instant coffee and a few hasty salt Latvians were no breakfast as it used to unaffordable at home, but in exchange for 15 minutes more sleep. Dorothy would be on time, he knew. No big deal. The Inter City had never been late. Or is it?
He stole the time to working out how often the train and he poured in over the past ten years to approximately the same time in the station and when, who came first. The old clock on the kitchen table was ticking relentlessly. No time, no time ... Under this pressure, thinking he could not. But even under more favorable circumstances, the result would not have been different, the train was the winner, since Dorothy went by train.
In the summer, yet he was hoping to inspire them for arrival the night before. She had quietly listened to his proposal and then rejected. No, they did not want to get on a train in the evening when people come sweaty and worn out from work. Travelled morning smelled of fresh soap, bread and coffee, and Dorothee even claimed that to them the hardships of the previous day, could no longer watch. No, Dorothy wanted to get on a train in the morning. Against this form of argument, there was no remedy.
Late one afternoon in the fall, he had then made their own arguments and the bad weather outside the front door for assistance made to them in the evening to prevent their return trip by train. He had set up any traps like a hunter. Rather naively, he asked them to reconsider their position and to stay with him. The weather was November, wet fog and the fire crackled in the fireplace inviting. Nothing seemed to speak against a remain. They were all day in bed have been had the fire of their stormy two bodies, ecstatic and cuddle hours and enjoyed swore in the disillusionment resembling breaks everlasting love. A common dreamed night for him would have been the highest. But she got up, checked her immaculately beautiful body in the mirror and his eyes, was fishing in a great hurry lost along previous garments and dressed himself in such an erotic way, that he fainted.
Later at their "Dinner for Two" in the little restaurant at the train station, which welcomed the waiter for more than regulars, she took his right hand between her hands, just as his mother was heated as a child's hands after a snowball fight. He melted away ...
"Dearest," whispered Dorothy, her voice a bed in tears, "I would cry if I thought about how wonderful a night could be a couple, but what would people think, even though we are engaged only in ten years. .. "
© 2011 by Roman Romanov
