Berlin
It was an intimidating feeling to arrive in a country in which my communication skills ended with the ability to ask for a bratwurst with sauerkraut. The names of metro stations on the way from the airport all sounded long and ominous to my foreign ear. Tonie, my dearest German friend who kindly invited me to Berlin, did little to dispel the feeling when she translated the name of one town to mean "desire to be a man who kills or hurts small animals."
Tonie is from the Eastern side of Berlin, and her apartment is only a few blocks from Alexanderplatz, the heart of former East Berlin and currently one of three "centers" of the unified city. As we walked the streets that evening and much of the next day, she gave me the impression that the distinctive features of the town were being swallowed up every day by the spreading gentrification and touristification of the city. It is probably natural for most of us to feel nostalgic when the things we grew up with change rapidly and irreversibly, and I couldn't help sharing her sadness over the disappearance of cheap cozy cafes, goofy artwork and other distinctive features of the neighborhood.
I was particularly interested in the graffiti artwork I saw everywhere, even in what have now become rather posh parts of town. Graffiti is one of the very few modern means of individual expression that stands a chance of reaching a mass audience. Unfortunately, most graffiti, like most individual expression is so personal that it is completely uninteresting, but the occasional piece jumps into the political or public realm and demands a reaction by the sheer directness of presentation. "Soldiers are murderers" said one, half obscured by vines. The German Supreme Court recently found this phrase to go beyond permissible free speech, and its use is now prohibited in a public context.
A lot of graffiti are reminders of the violent clashes between police and demonstrators that occur here every year around May Day. Demonstrators toss cobblestones at the police, who retaliate with water cannons. The protesters have legitimate greviances to air, but also turn the protests into a sort of street celebration, often with music and bousterous merrymaking. Based on my friend's description, these demonstrations lack the broad-based participation of the French ones, are less peaceful than the Spanish ones, but the balance of power is not overwhelmingly with the police, as in the United States.
The war between graffiti artists and gentrifiers appears to rage on every corner. Sometimes a newly renovated facade will have an ugly scrawl, like a wound on its belly. Other times, street art that has amused passers-by for years will be painted over with bright but utterly boring paint. Like any war, this one has many casualties. Most Berliners probably sympathize with one or the other side, but, for me, both have their own appeal. Unfortunately, to hope that the clash will preserve the best of both worlds is probably too optimistic. In the meantime, I tried to take as many pictures as I could, to preserve at least a snapshot of this dynamic world.
Tonie is from the Eastern side of Berlin, and her apartment is only a few blocks from Alexanderplatz, the heart of former East Berlin and currently one of three "centers" of the unified city. As we walked the streets that evening and much of the next day, she gave me the impression that the distinctive features of the town were being swallowed up every day by the spreading gentrification and touristification of the city. It is probably natural for most of us to feel nostalgic when the things we grew up with change rapidly and irreversibly, and I couldn't help sharing her sadness over the disappearance of cheap cozy cafes, goofy artwork and other distinctive features of the neighborhood.
I was particularly interested in the graffiti artwork I saw everywhere, even in what have now become rather posh parts of town. Graffiti is one of the very few modern means of individual expression that stands a chance of reaching a mass audience. Unfortunately, most graffiti, like most individual expression is so personal that it is completely uninteresting, but the occasional piece jumps into the political or public realm and demands a reaction by the sheer directness of presentation. "Soldiers are murderers" said one, half obscured by vines. The German Supreme Court recently found this phrase to go beyond permissible free speech, and its use is now prohibited in a public context.
A lot of graffiti are reminders of the violent clashes between police and demonstrators that occur here every year around May Day. Demonstrators toss cobblestones at the police, who retaliate with water cannons. The protesters have legitimate greviances to air, but also turn the protests into a sort of street celebration, often with music and bousterous merrymaking. Based on my friend's description, these demonstrations lack the broad-based participation of the French ones, are less peaceful than the Spanish ones, but the balance of power is not overwhelmingly with the police, as in the United States.
The war between graffiti artists and gentrifiers appears to rage on every corner. Sometimes a newly renovated facade will have an ugly scrawl, like a wound on its belly. Other times, street art that has amused passers-by for years will be painted over with bright but utterly boring paint. Like any war, this one has many casualties. Most Berliners probably sympathize with one or the other side, but, for me, both have their own appeal. Unfortunately, to hope that the clash will preserve the best of both worlds is probably too optimistic. In the meantime, I tried to take as many pictures as I could, to preserve at least a snapshot of this dynamic world.
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 9:22 PM
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