You know how I said there weren’t a lot of cherry trees in Berlin? I was just completely wrong about that.
I know that it’s beyond cliché at this point for a visitor to Berlin to go on about the phenomenon of its street art. But I can’t stop myself. Not only is one of the most distinguishing elements of the city, it is such a great example of a prime cultural difference between Berlin and New York. So without further ado I present to you:
This is a huge mural by the Belgian artist ROA on the side of a building at Skalitzerstr & Oranienstr, a prime intersection in Kreuzberg. It’s a little macabre, but it’s beautifully executed and rooted in a classic theme for still life painting.
(Victor Müller, German, 1829 - 1871, Stilleben mit einem erlegten Hasen, Huhn und Singvogel)
In contrast, here’s what we find on a beautiful spring morning on the side of a certain building at the intersection of 33rd St & 9th Ave in New York City:
Now I’m not going to say that the graphic artist who created this flaming death monster doesn’t have any artistic skill. He or she certainly does. But I also wouldn’t say its purpose is to be beautiful or thought provoking. Its purpose is pretty clear: buy a ticket to this movie.
While U.S. cities generally struggle to make space for public art, we will lease out almost any available surface (buildings, busses, the actual stiles of the subway turnstiles) for commercial purposes. This constant need to make a dollar is the motor of NYC. It’s not going to change anytime soon. But it’s something that, for many reasons, I find exhausting.
Berlin has the benefit of space, cops who have bigger fish to fry and a highly active creative community, eager to take advantage of its bare surfaces. It’s incredibly refreshing to be presented with ideas and visions – some more challenging than others, some better executed than others – that ask for your attention, your thoughts, maybe a little of your time, but not your money.
Things in Berlin are more or less exactly as I left them. A few old buildings have come down. A few new ones are on their way up. The city is chilly with a sky that alternates between a gloomy grey ceiling and an endless blue dome.
Even though spring’s progress is several steps behind the warm April days I left behind in New York, there is a general feeling of new energy and warmth in the city. In the fall, it seemed that Berliners were trying to soak up every possible drop of sunlight before the long, dark winter ahead. Now the city’s parks and bike-lanes are filled with residents taking a collective deep breath of the fresh spring air.
A few signs of spring:
There aren’t many cherry trees in Berlin, but this little one at an entrance to Viktoriapark in Kreuzberg is just opening.
The view from top of Viktoriapark: Trees reach for the sun. Steeples reach for heaven. Fernsehturm reaches for the stars.
There’s no better way to get some fresh air while getting around the city than on a bike. My wheels for the next couple of weeks come in the form of this DDR-era Fahrrad. While biking affords the best views of the city and its surroundings, it is worth noting that riding this thing down cobblestone streets is a vintage Berlin experience that is not easy on the backside!
One of the great things about New York City is that you find a critical mass for almost anything that you’re into. This is especially true when it comes to languages. Almost like tuning a radio dial, your ears can usually find someone speaking the language that you have in mind at any given time: when I was obsessed with Brazilian music a few years ago, it seemed like there were brasileiros everywhere I turned. Ditto Russians when I was working on Boris Godunov in 2010.
These days the city seems to be brimming with German speakers. It doesn’t surprise me in the touristy parts of town, but encountering small groups of Deutscher on distant side streets in Brooklyn seems noteworthy. (I remained convinced that Berlin’s S-Bahn has a secret stop somewhere in Williamsburg, but that’s a theory for another time.)
Whatever the reason, I have been using it to my advantage. I have been going to a German language Meetup at Fort Greene’s beer garden, Der Schwarze Kölner. Because the group includes a wide range of skill levels – from native speakers to people who studied abroad a long time ago - it’s a comfortable environment for testing one’s conversational limits. It probably doesn’t hurt that the drinks are within easy reach, as well!
Back in January, I was feeling a bit sentimental about my autumn in Berlin so I paired some photos from my time there (most of which are familiar to regular readers of this blog) with a recording I recently made of Richard Strauss’ “Traum durch die Dämmerung.”
Even though this song was published in 1894, I was often surprised by how useful the words in the text were to me in my day-to-day life in modern Berlin. Since then I’ve turned to more contemporary musical sources to continue expanding my vocabulary: every day I spend a couple of hours listening to German radio online and keep a running list of new words that I hear. And while many, if not most, European acts record in English (increasingly the international language of pop-culture), it’s been fun to find some talented bands, who actually record in German. PeterLicht is one that I particularly enjoy:
Who says poetry isn’t relevant?
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Doesn’t it seem appropriate that the sculpture in front of the Deutsche Bundesbank in Hamburg looks like a pipeline leading from it to the outside world? Further proof of the artist as visionary.
I may not have done many of the traditional sightseer activities while I was in Germany for the last three months. And sometimes I think maybe I missed out.
But in all honesty, I feel like the many people who come and go without making time for handmade Knödel and freshly mulled Glühwein at the market are the ones who are really missing out on getting a taste of Deutschland.
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