Of Blood and Beauty

The Evergreen State College

Page 13 of 27

Brandenburg tour

So far I have been writing all of the outings in reverse order which is an interesting to trace back how my perspective and expectations of tours have been built up an shifted over just a few weeks. Waiting at the Brandenburg gate for everyone to arrive I really don’t know what I was expecting but I remember appreciating that our two tour guides were not authoritative white guys.

Looking up at the golden women who stiffly chills atop the gate and thinking about her being once a bringer of peace to a rescued symbol of victory was striking. Celebrating liberation and celebrating the exertion of power over others are two different things but one can be very easily twisted into the other.

The memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe: Walking through watching oneself try to have a proper and authentic experience for fear of disrespecting the essence of the memorial. It got colder the deeper I was in. Walking through the narrow gridded walkways reminded me of an abandoned slaughter house I explored when I was younger. It gave me an analogous sensation to these moments back when I was retracing the steps the animals took through the narrow, long corrals of the killing floor. I wonder if it was a purely architectural sensation or because I was given contextual knowledge of why each were made, or perhaps also because I felt it necessary in both cases to feel my way into a speculative narrative based on the event and site of death.

Outing Experiences

6.4.16 City Office of Development:

What a long, informative session! I really appreciated seeing all of the models it helped me get a better grasp of the layout and history of Berlin. It really put into effect the idea of Berlin being a city of constant Becoming.

11.4.16 Boros Bunker:

Spinning trees, a popcorn machine, claustrophobia, put a house on it, the most moving piece of artwork was in a hallway, a special room for lights, “site specific pieces”, and the blank stare of the guide when asked if the bunker would be open in case of a tragedy, “it’s meant to play with your lack of knowledge”, and shattered glass that wasn’t glass but was glass but is now steel — that about sums it up.

13.4.16 Street Art Tour:

I couldn’t really focus on the street art while we were walking in a large group of people and trying not to run into each other – however, when the tour ended Kate and I ended up hanging out with Evelyn the tour guide. We looked at the art on fragments of the Berlin wall and talked about the growth of style from the 80’s until now. We also looked at the art outside of squats and talked about how street art helped turn places which were once definitively made for the wealthy into safe and radical leftist spaces.

18.4.16 Jüdisches Museum Berlin:

The best part of that tour is when I walked far enough away from the tour guide to where the microphone was out of ear shot and I got to sit in this room where show tunes were playing and dancing was being shown on this little screen. It was obviously like, communicating the varied aspects of Jewish culture and I thought it was really important to think about the striving for the continuity of a culture and religion.

20.4.16 Berlin Wall Memorial Documentation Center:

I think that the emotional intensity of that excursion really altered the way I was thinking of it in the current moment. I couldn’t really process what was being said to me, when watching the documentary all I could focus on was the narrator’s voice and when walking around all I could think about is how badly I wanted to take off my backpack. When I got home all I could think about was Donald Trump.

Buros Bunker

There is so much to unpack about this place. It is most definitely an odd thing to do with a gratuitous amount of wealth though it is always odd thing to find out what imaginable sums of money are spent on. That said my favorite installation kept at the Buros Bunker was the space left open from extracting part of the ceiling.

My notes a messy and pleasing to look at so I will upload them shortly.

Looking back over there is so much to be explored in the changing but fertile relationship between art, degradation and mysticism and the kind of esoteric, opaque sculptural parables we were given a tour of within the buros bunker. The spirit doesn’t isn’t really that a useful ‘thing’ within capitalism but mysticism seems to be a necessity.

Street Art Tour

We began by the fruits. I unfortunately don’t get very much out of this tour initially because I already had an idea of what it was going to be like and had created a kind of front of shield in my head that disallowed me from taking any kind of critical or interesting lens in those moments. I became aware of this cool front, which on the real is never really cool at all it just makes one miss out on things, and starting talking to Katy Wert about it as she seemed a couple steps ahead of this mental state. We realzied it is much like when a teen i in public with there parents and their fear of being associated with their family is so great that they have to somewhat subtly announce to the public sphere that, ‘No’ they are not hanging out by choice and thereby actualizes their own embarrassment by acting out in an embarrassing way.

After somewhat getting over this hang up I started beginning to feel more engaged with the tour. Usually I prefer more straight-up tagging style or at least character/symbol based scribbles to what we would label as ‘street art.’ I love and hate the cockiness pervading street art and tagging so much so that it keeps me locked into a dialectical stutter with my thoughts whenever I try to assess it. I did really like the last mural we saw on the tour of  A human made up of and eating itself by an artist named Blue. The moment I looked up at it reminded me of Marx’s congealed labor, or the worker abstracted into labor power. I did wonder what the reason was that all of the people making up the figure were peach and pinkish colored and if it was perhaps because whiteness is a assumed neutral and universal color of skin. It was a question that snuck up on me after the tour was over and I wished that we could have had some kind of dialogue on it in that moment.

Wild Weekend #3 part everything

After seeing the FC UNION game last weekend, my confidence rose and thus this weekend I decided to go for it. That’s right, I was going to try and see a Hertha match. There are only four games left in the season. Two of them are away games, so I wouldn’t be able to see either of those. The other home game was also during the weekend in which our class will be doing our excursion to Prague. So this was my last and only chance to get to see Hertha play; a match in the Bundesliga, in the fabled Olypmiastadion. On top of all this, they just so happened to be playing against, oh I don’t know, some team called BAYERN MUNICH! In case you aren’t in the know, Bayern Munich is easily, hands down, the most popular team in Germany. They are one of, if not the best team in the world. Tickets were going to be very expensive and very hard to come by. No matter, I was still going to go for it.

After my experience last week of arriving at the stadium and having there already be a ton of people every where, I decided not to risk it at all. I left for the stadium five hours before the game started, I got there with four hours to spare. 11:30, match time 3:30. Get to work. There weren’t as many people everywhere this time, so maybe that was a good sign. I got off the train and followed the crowd, assuming that what few people were there, we’re all heading in the same direction I needed to go. Up through the winding path through the trees, we eventually came to a clearing. There were lots of flag poles, and am empty lot, probably for cars. As my gaze followed my surroundings, I saw it. There it was. I seem to have difficulty explaining my feelings when it comes to these moments, but I can think of no other word than awe. Olympiastadion.

Wild Weekend #3 part everything

As I walked closer and closer to the stadium, it just kept growing bigger and bigger. Stands started appearing, selling beer and brots. In the distance I could see the gate entrances. I had no idea how I was going to get tickets. I had heard that everything online had been sold out. At this point my only chances were that either the ticket kiosk would be open and selling a limited number of tickets for people who actually showed up, or I would have to find a ticket scalper. The kiosks were closed, only one option remained. There weren’t many people there yet, I mean relatively, there were still a bunch of people already there, but the game did start in four hours. I walked through the crowds, scanning for people holding extra tickets. I had no luck so I decided to keep moving on to the south side entrance. There were fewer people at the entrance itself, but not far from it there was a building on a small hill, and all around it were tons of people with various red and blue gear. These were the respective team colors by the way. Munich red, Hertha blue. I walked around the edge, still keeping my eyes peeled. I really had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know German, I couldn’t just walk up to random people and ask if they had and extra ticket, people wanted to get I tot his game, if they had tickets they were going to use them, if they had extras, they were going to pawn them off for a pretty penny.

Moving passed the restaurant/bar I continued my wide sweeping circle around the stadium, looking either for another entrance or people who might be able to help. I still wasn’t ready to give up on seeing a small stand that would be selling tickets, but then again I was desperate. As I continued on, a small group of people started forming, I followed them. Eventually I came upon a small discrete entrance, with a large group of people outside. Most of the people outside were girls roughly my age. I’m sure I wasn’t going to be able to just walk in. I looked around to try and figure out what this place was. The besti could figure was that this was an entrance for press, and I was no press, moving on.  At this point I could see the stadium any more, I was just following a wide clockwise path around where I thought the stadium was. I ended up coming upon a small green course for horseback riding, there were those bars they could jump over and those mini hills for them to climb. Interesting that something like this would be located here. I came across the stables and saw some cool horses, but this only made me feel as if I was just getting myself farther from where I wanted to be. I had time though, so I continued with my circle. As I passed the horse club house area, I came to a sidewalk with a wall next to it. When I got to the end and turned the corner, I was surprised by a giant concrete structure. This for all intents and purposes looked like it could have been another entrance, this would have been the west side by now. There were very few people here, though. Mostly just some parked cars and teenagers drinking, legally by the way. I entered the building and realized that this wasn’t part of the stadium at all, this was actually the old Olympic grounds for when the olympics were here during the 30’s. The Olympic track and field was between me and the stadium, but I couldn’t see it or get to it, one had to pay for entry, probably to get a tour and see a video or something. Moving on.

I was disappointed to see that instead of football buildings, I just came across more horse stables and training grounds for them. As I walked by, four different people were riding horses though this course. I would have watched longer had I not seen green in the distance. What was that I saw, a football field, why yes, and was that a game going on? Also yes. I headed over thinking I was getting more back on track. From a distance they looked like they were high school aged kids, they were playing on grass though, which was definitely a bonus, I would have expected turf for that age. My best guess was that this was one of Hertha’s youth squads playing a home league game. I would have checked it out more thoroughly, had I not turned and looked to my right. There, the stadium was in view again, there was a man in an orange neon vest. He was letting a car through occasionally. Since there was only one guy, this was the point were I started entertaining the notion of trying to sneak into the game. I started looking for shorter fences, or holes, or unguarded areas, but I never really thought that I would have done it, not unless I had to. Next to the man was a very nice, pristine, seated mini stadium. I bet this was where Hertha had their practices. Or maybe it was the field next to it, or the one next to that. I followed the trail of fields, all of which were beautiful grass fields that made me really wish I had had a ball and cleats. In total I counted not one, not two, but seven different fields all in close proximity to the stadium. I gues they could practice on whatever field they damn well please.

At this point I had nearly finished my circle, the trees were starting to look familiar. Sure enough I came across the train station and decided to retrace my steps of when I had first arrived. My circle had taken me an hour and a half, and had yielded no results. Things were getting closer to crunch time. There were far more people this time around. The parking lot was already getting full, and the stands were full of people drinking and eating now. I waded thought he crowds, looking for someone who looked like they were looking for me. I spent half an hour walking awkwardly around groups of people over and over again. I over heard one group men talking in British accents. They said they had been planning this trip for weeks, that they had been unable to get tickets online even after looking everywhere. One man said he mangled to get his tickets from a random guy walking around selling them and I cursed under my breath. That should have been my ticket. This did give me a small glimmer of hope, though, with more people here there were bound to be more scalpers.

I eventually came acros two men, both of whom were completely decked out in Hertha gear, you could tell these guys were real fans. Their jackets were homemade, various Hertha stitchings and footballs made that abundantly clear. They each were carrying roughly five scarves each, and one of them had an envelope in his hand. I eyed him up and approached him cautiously. Eventually he saw me and we made eye contact, he held out the envelope and said tickets? Had I found what I was looking for? I asked him if he spoke English and he said no. That would make this more difficult. He pulled out what looked like a ticket from the envelope, he let me hold it and look at it for as long as I liked. I asked Sie viele kostet? Which I think means something like how much? Funfsig euros he said. Okay red flag. That I could not believe. I had heard people saying they saw prices as high as 80 euros, and I had come here ready and willing to spend up to 100 for a ticket, and here this guy was offering half that. There were many things that were going through my head at this point. How could I know these tickets were real? I looked around and saw a group of police men nearby, a coup,e of whom kept looking at me. I felt a chill go down my spine and heard a voice telling me to back away. I said sorry to the two men, and nicht jetzt, not now. I walked away from them and turned the corner, there was a huge line of people next to a small random building. I asked the kid at the back of the line if he spoke English, he said yes. I asked him what the line was for, and he said that this line was for referees, who could get special tickets at discounted prices. I asked him how I might be able to get a ticket, he said really my only chance wa to find someone selling one. He said that I should be careful though, because for a game like this a lot of scalpers would trying to get people to pay double the ticket prices. He said maybe 80 or 90 euro. I said this guy was trying to sell one for 50 and he couldn’t believe it either. I asked him what the scalping laws were inGermany. For instance could one sell tickets legally, and could I buy them legally? He said that it was illegal to sell them but not to buy them, this is what I wanted to hear, the police nearby had just been freaking me out. I decided to go for it.

I went back to the two men and gave him 50 euros for the ticket. Then, he said that I could go in with him if I wanted. This made me feel way more comfortable, that way if the ticket was fake, I could blame him. I told him I was a student and didn’t know any one. He said that the other man was his son, and that they were going to go grab some beers from their car, and that I could come. I followed them. Every minute I grew more and more comfortable, not seeming able to really believe that I had got a ticket. We went to the parking lot, drank a beer and chatted up. He couldn’t speak English, but he seemed to enjoy hearing me struggle with my German. After we finished our beers we decided to go to the stadium. The moment of truth. We walked and talked, or tried to, he said that this third ticket was for a friend of theirs who had hurt his knee and couldn’t come. When we got to the gate, he showed me how to insert the ticket into the machine. It blinked green and the turnstile unlocked, I walked through. I literally let out a cry of victory, but it was short lived as I realized I still had to go through the security guard who patted me down. Once he did though, I was through. I was really going to get to see Bayern Munich play Hertha in Olympiastadion! It all sunk in immediately and I hugged the two men. There names were Detlef and Daniel by the way, Daniel was the son. We walked around the stadium, which seriously looked like it was straight out of Ancient Rome or Greece. They walked me to where my seat was, this is when they said that we actually were not going to be sitting together, and that they were going to leave me here to go find there own seats. I thanked them over and over again and looked up the word grateful in German and said it to them, sehr dankbar. More hugs, more times saying viel spass, then they left.

Wild Weekend #3 part everything

Now it was time for me to start enjoying myself. I walked around my seat, the stadium was still pretty empty, most people were out eating and drinking. I decided to join them. Section L 6, row 18, seat 3, for 50 euros, not bad, not bad at all! I grabbed various things to eat and drink for the next hour. I waded through the ever thickening crowd which had many Munich fans by the way, and took in the scenery as well. There were some cool statues and other architecture. I came across a small group of people all facing a fence, I decided to go see what was up and to check it out. They were all watching car driving into the garage below. This had been where I had seen the man in the orange neon vest earlier. Apparently form here you could see all of the players arriving in their fancy cars. As game time approached, I decided to go find me seat again. With the game about to start, the stadium was now full packed, 77,000 people. The Bayern Munich fan section began to light red flares, wave flags and sing loud songs. The smoke covered the field up, and thus the match was postponed a good five minutes. Once it started though, pure heaven.

Wild Weekend #3 part everything Wild Weekend #3 part everything Wild Weekend #3 part everything Wild Weekend #3 part everything

I had seen Bayern Munich play many times on tv, but real life was something completely different. In real life, everything they did just looked so much more amazing. When on a screen, it all looks so simple, but with your own eyes,you see just how good they are and that they are really amazing world class athletes. I simply could not look away from the game. It was just too beautiful. The score was tied at zero at halftime, but in the second half, Arturo Vidal scored first then Douglas Costa. Munich took a two nothing lead which was how the game ended. When the final whistle blew, I didn’t want it to end. I stayed in my seat and watched the crowds flow out until there was no one left and the security guards had to come and kick me out. As I left the field and eventually the stadium, I kept looking back behind me, knowing that I may never gain get to see either of these teams play, or even be in this stadium again, but that was ok, I was grateful for the time I had been given.

Wild Weekend #3 part everything

Listening to Berlin

I am sitting underground. Allows talk with each other all around me. They show me cold colors of friction. Vibrations like screams, shrieks like sirens of death. Humming undertones that scourge the ear into a painful slumber. I hear what goes without saying. I hear a silence only listened to by deaf ears that are somewhere else in thought. I listen quietly. Am I silent? Where do I scream inside and never listen? I hear a prolonged rhythm only noticeable if you can distract yourself from that which surrounds you. A constant flow of jabbering German that might as well be gibberish except for the token words that grab hold of your attention and bring you back out of pure soundscape. My ear constantly wants to name, to point where, to ask why. I try to suspend and push the sound flat together as if it is just one note, as if it is one song, in harmony with all of the vibrations around it synchronizing its entrance into my ear. I hear scuffling, I hear breathing, I hear banging, yelling, raspy throat noise asking, back and forth I hear momentum quickening, lulling. I hear to the left and to the right, how does one flatten this? How does one numb direction? Orientation of space created by shapes of sound? I find myself struggling in frustration and I wonder, is that just the noise around me? How am I separate from this consuming rhythm? How am I attached? All of this is written after I am no longer hearing these things. Where am I in that sound now? How is it still apart of me? Do I still contact it? What frequency am I playing?

Berlin Wall Memorial

Historical materialism wishes to retain that image of the past which unexpectedly appears to man singled out by history at a moment of danger. The danger affects both the content of the tradition and its receivers. The same threat hangs over both: that of becoming a tool of the ruling classes. (Walter Benjamin, Theses on the Philosophy of History: VI)

Is this propaganda or memorialization? This is the question I have been unable to answer after my visit to the Berlin Wall Memorial. Is it both? If so, how? Is it possible to have a memorial that doesn’t propagandize itself? Sure, the capitalist west “won,” but should that be the only narrative? What happens to our sense of self and government when we stop our public historical probing at the horror of the 136 dead and the totalitarian control of life in the DDR. How often is “respecting the dead” used as an obfuscation? What else is there? Where is this history?

I found another small horror in viewing the “death strip” as a purely aesthetic object, one possessing a minimalism that captures the Kantian sublime like no other I’ve encountered, the smooth gravel almost looking like a canvas Agnes Martin could pencil lines on.

KulturBingo: Berlinische Galerie

I’ve been thinking about the museum as a site for possible (cross)cultural didacticism: a reinscription of the spectaclized social order that still manages to drive itself beyond the seemingly clear hegemonic strictures it reproduces and codifies—a tenderly productive idea thoughtfully presented in the first essay we read for this course: “Escape From Amnesia: The Museum as Mass Medium,” by Andreas Huyssen. This “driving beyond,” (not his words) as Huyssen presents it, has the possibility of being performed by curator, artist and spectator. Given this, I found a case par excellence upon viewing Erwin Wurm’s work “One Minute Sculptures” as displayed in the Berlinische Galerie. The work asks the viewer for direct involvement with the objects presented: one has to put their own body directly into the situation of the work by making a prescribed “sculpture” with the books, chairs, refrigerators, and other common objects. I was immediately pleased with my own embarrassment and hesitancy to place my self within the “performance” of the works having gone to the gallery by myself. So, instead, I relegated my viewing to look at others who were sharing their interactions with the art through looking at each other and taking photographs of themselves doing as such: people sharing the wearing of a large sweater, placing their legs awkwardly through a chair, laying on an arrangement of tennis balls, sticking their heads into both sides of a small doghouse, standing within a folded lawn chair, and so forth.

This sense of being forced, or rather, permitted, to directly negotiate the bodily is continued in Wurm’s “Narrow House,” a “faithful reconstruction of his parents’ home in every detail, except that the artist has compressed it into a depth of just over a meter” (from the gallery’s web site). While the copy explaining the house lettered on the wall in the museum refers to this narrowing as symbolizing the strictures of provincial life, the main difficulty in viewing the work is found within the difficult negotiation between everybody trying to view the work. How can we all move through the space to allow for a full glimpse? (I can’t imagine what it’ll be like during high tourist season.) Hence the happy, if subtly disquieting embarrassment I found in these works: as embodied viewers, we must constantly question how we are engaging with the material at hand. We are not just bodies to be pleased. It was a wonderful reminder to take account of what it is to look at things and engage with them as others, without and within.

KulturBingo: Berlinische Galerie

I’ve been thinking about the museum as a site for possible (cross)cultural didacticism: a reinscription of the spectaclized social order that still manages to drive itself beyond the seemingly clear hegemonic strictures it reproduces and codifies—a tenderly productive idea thoughtfully presented in the first essay we read for this course: “Escape From Amnesia: The Museum as Mass Medium,” by Andreas Huyssen. This “driving beyond,” (not his words) as Huyssen presents it, has the possibility of being performed by curator, artist and spectator. Given this, I found a case par excellence upon viewing Erwin Wurm’s work “One Minute Sculptures” as displayed in the Berlinische Galerie. The work asks the viewer for direct involvement with the objects presented: one has to put their own body directly into the situation of the work by making a prescribed “sculpture” with the books, chairs, refrigerators, and other common objects. I was immediately pleased with my own embarrassment and hesitancy to place my self within the “performance” of the works having gone to the gallery by myself. So, instead, I relegated my viewing to look at others who were sharing their interactions with the art through looking at each other and taking photographs of themselves doing as such: people sharing the wearing of a large sweater, placing their legs awkwardly through a chair, laying on an arrangement of tennis balls, sticking their heads into both sides of a small doghouse, standing within a folded lawn chair, and so forth.

This sense of being forced, or rather, permitted, to directly negotiate the bodily is continued in Wurm’s “Narrow House,” a “faithful reconstruction of his parents’ home in every detail, except that the artist has compressed it into a depth of just over a meter” (from the gallery’s web site). While the copy explaining the house lettered on the wall in the museum refers to this narrowing as symbolizing the strictures of provincial life, the main difficulty in viewing the work is found within the difficult negotiation between everybody trying to view the work. How can we all move through the space to allow for a full glimpse? (I can’t imagine what it’ll be like during high tourist season.) Hence the happy, if subtly disquieting embarrassment I found in these works: as embodied viewers, we must constantly question how we are engaging with the material at hand. We are not just bodies to be pleased. It was a wonderful reminder to take account of what it is to look at things and engage with them as others, without and within.

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