The places in this city where you don’t constantly hear the roar of traffic in the distance are few and far between. I initially thought to try out a place where there would be little to no sound pollution from said source, but then it occurred to me, as a flaneur, one must be one with the city and all its glory. The bridge along the canal would do nicely. A couple blocks away from the closest busy street would let me receive a happy medium between both.

Clicking, it’s there one second, then it’s gone. Sometimes it rings, with the clicks, sometimes metal crunches. These help me distinguish the clicking from the tapping all around. A light wind today, picks up every once in a while. The trees shed their approval. What is shed is avoided, but sometimes it is unavoidable, and two quick cracks indicate the tires have come and gone, and what has been shed has become more.

Thunder lasts long, but it doesn’t last this long. It also doesn’t get louder and louder. I hear nothing but thunder, then the helicopter lands. Then it takes off, and I hear nothing but thunder. One would be surprised at how stormy the weather could be when there are no clouds. Warm sun light talks to my back, but my ears can’t hear, they are busy anyways. High pitched , low pitched, high pitched, high pitched. They seem to be on opposite sides of my head when they enter, even though I’m looking at this family in front of me. The high pitch lingers on one occasion, the it runs away at the speed of a bullet and finishes its cry out on the street. Maybe those cars like each other, the male car makes a loud high pitched noise to impress the female car, it responds with a flash of the lights and a middle finger. They will mate and create a smart car. As will the birds; flying smart cars.

She sits cubed flowing in swirling color-dust

Solidified like rock

The moisture out of the oil and leaving behind only the dry work

She is unknown to those who gaze

Yet if you can shift your perspective,

and blur even the harsh edges

you will find that she is gazing also with cubed emotion

The right side sadness with a glimmer of compassion

and the left is direct and piercing in perception

Her reality is realized within her roughness and her softness

The line drawn starkly between the two

The colors blurring where delineation is unecessary

The model’s shape in reality has remained fused with my perception

Who would say this is right or wrong?

All I know is I am here.

Okay, I knew the game started at 1:30, everywhere I had looked online had been unsuccessful at yielding any information, and this was the second biggest club in Berlin, but I was going for it. Yes, I was going to try and get into an FC UNION Berlin game. I knew that if I was going to have any chance of figuring out a way in, then I was going to need to get there quite early, so I left at 10:30. I had to make two transfers via train to get there and when I got to the second transfer at Ostkreuz Station, I was already beginning to see the red and white scarves everywhere. While waiting for the train I noticed all the bottles of beer that people were downing. Then while on the train, in closer proximity, I got to witness one group of guys cheering/posting/clinking their bottles over and over, (gotta love public drinking in Germany). One guy on the train had four bottles of beer in various sweatshirt/pants pockets, he came prepared. This was easily the most crowded train I had been on in Berlin, including rush hour, and it only got more packed, with every stop along the way, more and more people were cramming into the trains, jerseys and scarves galore. As we were closing in on the destination, I noticed that I had been traveling for about an hour and a half. I also noticed that we were no longer in the busy urban streets of Berlin, we were out in the country. Eventually there were no more buildings visible from the train, only trees in every direction. There were one or two small little suburban neighborhoods occasionally, but the area was pretty much dominated by nature. When we pulled into the train station at Kopenick there were more buildings again. From the train I saw huge crowds gathered everywhere. I was too late. I had hoped to come before all the crowds in order to somehow figure out a way to get inside the stadium, but that wasn’t the case at all. Once I got off the train people were singing and crowds were flocking in every direction. I would have thought following all of them would lead me to the stadium, but they were headed every which way, so I had to try and figure it out for myself. From what I had heard this club was at least partially publicly owned, which to me meant more people with season tickets, which to me meant fewer tickets available to the public. With this in mind I was speeding through the crowds, most of which were headed at least in some general direction. I traveled along a small river, through some neighborhoods, down a back alley and… there it was.

Der Stadion an die alten Foresterei it was called, which to me translates as the stadium of the old foresters, as in the profession, quite a fitting name. Even from a distance it was a sight to behold. I slowed my pace down and took in the scenery, there was a woman’s match going on on one of the two turf fields, passed that there was an empty grass field, nice grass, this was probably the clubs practice field. The security gates were visible now. I was beginning to get nervous, this was where my journey would either come to and end or just get started. I could see the gates, police to the side, lines slowly going through with volunteers frisking them as they entered. The kiosk for the tickets had no line, which seemed a little suspect to me, but I ventured forth regardless. However, before I could even get to the kiosk an elderly couple came up to me and the woman said something in German while holding out a ticket. Auf English bitte. She said their son wasn’t going to be able to make it to the game and that she would sell the ticket to me for a discounted price. I looked at it, it said 12.50 for the student price, she asked for ten. She could have been hustling me and it could have been a fake. I was expecting to drop at least 30 euros for one of these tickets, what’s the catch? I went for it. I gave her a ten she gave me the ticket, she said viel spass. I walked up to the man with the little laser scanner that confirms the tickets, I showed the ticket to him, he pointed it at it, it made the ringing sound, I was in. I WAS IN! I couldn’t believe it, I had really not been expecting to get into this game but here I was, and it had been easier than I could have imagined! I couldn’t contain myself and started laughing out loud as I walked passed the security into the area outside the stadium. All the police were looking at me funny, so I checked myself and regained control. Here I was at the stadium, an hour early… gotta get a scarf. Scarves, as one must know, are quite the tradition for European Football matches. I picked out the coolest one I could find, and it some cost less than all the others. 2 for 2.

I walked around the whole stadium taking in the atmosphere. Beer stands were everywhere. As were little bratwurst stands. People were drinking and eating and laughing and using the bathroom… what a wonderful place. I went to one corner of the stadium and was able to walk up to a gate that was a mere ten feet from one of the corners of the field. From there I got a good look at the grass. It was, without a doubt, the nicest grass I had ever seen. I so badly just wanted to go and roll on it, contain yourself, you’ve made it this far. I could also see the seating situation as well. Only 1/4 of the seating sections had actual seats, there rest were the same as the area I had been to with the game last week. Standing room only with the occasional bar for leaning against. So that’s how it is done. With this type of arrangement. The capacity for the stadium isn’t limited by the number of seats available, they could have theoretically packed as many people as they could into those standing areas. As I was walking around looking for a place with a good view, I heard people start booing. I looked out at the field and my heart stopped. The away team had run out on to the field to do their warm ups, and they were dressed in all blue. I was in all blue. I panicked thought I would have to make a run for it, but then it hit me. Scarves up sonny, your safe. With this scarf, no fan would have trouble identifying me as a member of the home fan base, oh thank god.

With 15 minutes to game time, people were still pouring in. This place was going to be completely filled. Both teams were doing their warm ups with loud music blaring over the speakers. Most of it was in German, but one song I was able to identify as Take a Look Around by Limp Biskit, a great song to get pumped up to. Eventually the fans started cheering, and suddenly a voice from the speakers started taking too them. That’s right, to them, a voice from God it seemed. Every game I had ever been to featured an announcer, someone to read off players names, who was most likely sitting up Ina booth comfortable somewhere. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that the voice was actually coming from a man with microphone who was walking around down on the field. He want a player, he wasn’t dressed up fancy or anything, he looked just like everyone else. I’m thinking, who let this guy on to the field, but then I thought, publicly owned, that’s right, you can get away with things like this. After this man read off the rosters, the game began.

The field had been watered again just before the players came on for the actual match, so in the first ten or so minutes there was a lot of slipping and sliding occurring. It was quite entertaining, especially when it happened to the goalie of the other team, everyone burst out laughing. The best player on the field was undoubtedly Bobby Wood, who also happens to be an American, go figure. He was amazing in the air, had a great touch, was strong on the ball and it paid off for him as he scored in the 27th minute to give the home team the lead. Other players who stood out were numbers 37, a center defender, and 19, a midfielder. 37 was great at reading plays and was constantly intercepting passes from the other team. 19 directed his teammates very well, and made it clear how a situation should be defended. He would be a great teammate to have. This being some of the highest level football I have ever seen live, was an opportunity to take in all these small details. As a team, each player was good at recognizing when the ball was not going to come in their direction, am so they could defend as a unit easier and not given undue attention to players on the opposing side. The game ended 1-0, so there was no more scoring after  Wood’s goal, however, one shot for UNION did hit the post, and I have to admit it, a pk should have definitely been given for the other team. But it wasn’t, life goes on.

I couldn’t have asked for a better experience the crowd, the atmosphere, the game, everything was amazing. I will definitely try to make one more game here before the season ends. In the mean time, it’s time to go home and rest and write about my day. On the train ride back, the whole time different groups would get into cheer wars with each other over who could cheer the loudest and the longest. Good show.

I chose to do Gabrielle and Kate’s PsychicCity assignment, which took me to the Brücke Museum, accompanied by Katy and Jules. We took a bus to a quiet neighborhood that I had yet to visit, which was filled mostly with large, gated houses (something that I hadn’t seen any of so far during my time in Berlin). We walked a little way until finding signage pointing us toward the museum, which was nestled back in some trees, away from the noise of the city. I was somewhat surprised at how small it was, even though I really didn’t have any notion of what it would be like going in. Inside, we paid the 4€ student entry fee and gave our bags and coats to the man working at the coat-check area.

We quickly discovered that the museum was currently showcasing works from one particular artist, Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, who was one of the Brücke artists, a group who formed in Dresden, then later relocated to Berlin.There were also a few scattered pieces from other Brücke artists such as Ernst Ludwig Kirchner. Rottluff worked almost exclusively in portraiture, which is not something I found myself immediately interested in. I was already there, though, and so I did a few loops around the inside of the small exhibit and tried to glean something from the faces on the walls.
After a few minutes I realized that Schmidt-Rottluff’s works were organized in a chronological order around the rooms, and this led me to focus on the historical context of his art. He lived from 1884 to 1976, and so was alive and present for both World Wars. As I made this connection, I began to look for signs of that influence in his works from those periods.

I found that the very earliest paintings of his on display in this exhibition seemed to indicate a period of unbridled development, and some clearly are in keeping with the style of his expressionist counterparts. As the years on the placards progressed, though, so did his preferred techniques. There is a period in which his works start to manifest themselves in the form of woodcut prints. These were all very stylized, expressionist portraits, printed in black ink. The faces depicted have very blocky, skewed features to them. These pieces were produced during the period of WWI, and seem to reflect the mood in Germany at the time. Upon further research, I learned that Schmidt-Rottluff served on the eastern front from 1915-1918, and this must certainly have had some significant effect on his work. I learned also that Schmidt-Rottluff rose in prominence significantly after WWI, when expressionism was becoming more and more appreciated by art communities. The pieces in this particular exhibit that were dated between the end of the first world war and the rise of the Nazi party indicate, in my opinion, a very noticeable development of his own style: he starts working primarily with paints, and the works take on a particular ambience that seems more unique to him. Many of these paintings are self-portraits, some others are portraits of anonymous characters or other fellow artists. He works during this time in very dark, subdued colors, but maintains his expressionist style of very exaggerated, skewed features.

Then, unsurprisingly, when I came to the portion of the exhibit that covered the period of the Nazi regime and WWII, there are exceedingly few works on display. This was clearly due to the fact that he had been labeled a “degenerate” artist. My research led me to discover that he was expelled from the Prussian Academy of Arts in 1933, and over 600 of his paintings were seized by the totalitarian state in 1937, after which, in 1941, he was discharged from the painters guild and forbidden to paint. There were, however, a few pieces which were dated in the early to mid 30’s. These I found particularly interesting because he seems to almost totally break away from his habit of painting portraits, and there are almost no images to be seen of people or faces, which up until this point had been his heavily-preferred style. Instead, most of these paintings portray still-life scenes, which I was immediately drawn to. As I spent more time looking at and thinking about these scenes, I noticed that almost all of them were images featuring flowers in vases next to windows. This seems very significant in the historical context of their production; Germany is in the clutches of a madman, and still reeling from the brutality of the first World War. This, to me, is Rottluff’s attempt at escaping from this seemingly hopeless point in time. These scenes, that utilize primarily deep tones of blue, bring to mind images of sadness, but also of hope preserved, and a yearning for freedom.

One of the more striking self-portraits in the exhibit was dated 1944, the very end of WWII. It is almost shockingly lacking in color and depth, with the background almost entirely white and the facial features depicted in a much more realistic manner. The expression on his face is exceedingly grim, and his eyes feel like they are piercing beyond the glass covering the paper, into their viewer.

After the war, Rottluff is appointed a professor at the University of Arts in Berlin-Charlottenburg, and his works continue to progress. By the 1960’s his portraits have taken on very bright colors, and the features of their subjects become much blockier–they seem almost psychedelic, which makes sense given the time period of their creation. Almost all of the portraits from this period are of either himself or of his wife Emy, and the extent of their aging is clear. As the 60’s draw to a close and the 70’s begin, one can witness the color draining from his art as he nears the end of his life. Karl Schmidt-Rottluff died in Berlin in 1976.

I learned that the Brücke Museum itself was actually made possible, at least in part, by an endowment from Schmidt-Rottluff in 1964, and the Museum was opened in 1967 as a repository for the works of he and the other Brücke artists. This, for me, was an amazing look at history through the life and work of one man, and an exceptionally interesting experience. I would highly recommend paying him a visit.

Class ended early this time so I was able to book it out and try to catch the end of the weekly kick around sessions that I heard about while at the CIEE. I had been directed to the field around the corner, but after that I really didn’t know where I was going. By the time I arrived at the field it was already 4:00, I looked around unsuccessfully for a while but eventually found what I was looking for. Due to the weather everyone had gone into the little gym nearby and were playing an indoor version of the game with smaller goals and everything. The first person I saw happened to be Martin Klei, the academic director at CIEE. Another man, who was a bit older let me in to the building, because it was locked, asked if I was CIEE, then directed me to the changing room next to the gym. After gearing up and entering the court I became confused as to what was going on. There were two teams playing against each other, while another group of people sat on benches around the edge. Subs? I wander over to the bench and by the time I got there, the game had ended and Martin’s team took a seat. It was clear now, three teams, play two games then take a break, I like it. I met Martin and he introduced me to some other fellow CIEE students who happened to be football enthusiasts as well. Brian, Alex, Javier and Daniella I believe they were; plus Martin and I made six, which happens to be perfect as the other teams had six too and so they had been playing a man down. The other teams consisted of all Germans, one team consisted of teachers at a local school, I’m not sure which one, maybe it’s CIEE, the other was a bunch of high school students.

The games were fast paced and fun. The court shoes I brought helped a lot, but there was still some slipping and sliding going on. The other teams were very good. All of the teachers could ball, even the ones who appered to be at least in their 40’s. One of the first moments of the game, when my team finally stepped on, was having one of the teachers juggle the ball over my head, rather than be angered by this I was amazed and impressed because I had not thought his man capable of pulling something off like that. But the other team was were the real magic happened. Afterwards I found out they were all roughly 15 and 16 years old, yet they were so good! Aside from the talent their best trait was their communication and organization. I thought surely these kids played together all the time on some club, but afterwards I found out they weren’t even on clubs! There were other kids their age who were apparently much better! Jeez. Granted I was new to the whole scene, the other students had been there since January, but we could still all speak the same language, and yet our communication couldn’t compare to either of these other teams. This is something important that I am still desperately trying to figure out, and that is German dialogue during games. What types of things are they saying to each other and how are they different from what I am used to in English?

These games were tiring and I was surprised to find myself gassed by the end of our second game and welcoming a little break. Unfortunately, since they had to leave the gym by 5, those were the only games I was able to play. Because my class probably wouldn’t end early again, I knew that this was my one chance to get the information I needed. I talked mostly to Martin, but also to Javeir a little bit. They told about various locations of pickup games that can occur. For instance at the same field, just outside the gym at 7 on Mondays, there is apparently a weekly pickup session. I will definitely try to make it to the next one and scout it out. Martin, who could definitely ball by the way, had a lot of experience with this city. We discussed the notion of my true interest, and that is to maybe practice with a club. He said that all the clubs, all the way down to the lowest league are all much more formal, competitive and require commitments. He also said that the less skilled and lower level games usually feature slower defenders who tackle harder; they are no less competitive he said. Thus a risk of injury is presented when trying to play with clubs. From the interviews on team websites that I have read, a single injury can change your career. This is something I want to avoid at all costs. I asked him if he thought I would be able to simply practice with a club team, no games, just practices, and he thought no. Practices are times where they want to get their own players better, they wouldn’t have time for a random guy to join in. This made sense. Then he said something interesting, he said that if I was going to try and play with a club, then I should avoid revealing to them that I would only be in Berlin for a short time before heading back to the states. Although the seasons are all coming to an end, this may be a perfect opportunity if I play it right. The offseason is surely where most teams do their player trading and acquiring, perhaps many clubs would be looking at this time to have random players show up and play with them? This may be my chance to make some great discoveries.