Berlin art squat completes journey from cultural collective to tourist trap – Irish Times

Revisiting Tacheles in Berlin on Saturday was like running into an old friend who’s had so much work done on his face that you can’t take your eyes off him.

The familiar graffitied staircase with “Ireland” written in red letters is still there, but something important is missing. It’s a trace of urine floating in the air.

Back in my student days, ten years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, this five-story squat sat like a giant spaceship in the rapidly gentrifying urban landscape.

As if by magic, few tourists made it to the bar on the fifth floor due to the stench of urine.

Regulars learned to take two steps at a time while suppressing their gag reflex. Hidden under the roof of the attic, Laguna handed out cheap drinks and guests sat on sofas that smelled so bad that, if they could, people would move the unpleasant furniture up to the fifth floor. You might want to throw it off the balcony.

But even then, Tacheles was slipping from a cultural collective to a tourist trap amidst bitter squabbling among the occupying artists.

In 2012, after much legal wrangling, hand-wringing, and false memory nostalgia, Tacheles closed its doors and disappeared into a chrysalis. It’s not the first time.

Built in 1907 as a Milanese-inspired shopping arcade, the complex included a department store and a showroom for innovative AEG appliances.

The SS moved in in the 1930s, and despite some war damage, the complex remained largely intact as a mixed-use building until East Berlin authorities demolished half of it in 1980.

Ten years later, plans to demolish the rest were abandoned by the artistic squatters, who renamed it Tacheles and began their fourth existence as an anarchic collective. Berlin has now emerged from its chrysalis in its fifth iteration and is trading big, drawing on its past as a textbook example of where Berlin is heading in the future.

The original building was part of a newly built arcade by Swiss architects Herzog & de Meuron, which camouflaged standard office and apartment blocks with bolted brick elements, creating an original atmosphere. I’m trying to reproduce some of it.

Previous anchor tenants include a supermarket, drugstore and Porsche showroom. The new public spaces appear to offer no seating unless you purchase something.

But the most interesting thing is the original building. After a thorough renovation, he now has two restaurants/cafés, a bakery, a ballroom, and an upscale cocktail bar in what was once an attic bar.

[ ‘It’s an easy place to live’: Meet the growing band of Irish artists at the top of their game in Berlin ]

Spanning two floors with 5,000 square meters of exhibition space, the main tenant is Fotografiska, a gallery for contemporary photography and visual art.

It opened with a show by artist Candice Breitz, but it seems that it was not canceled in Germany because of her views on Israel and Gaza, and now she is showing works that explore issues of race and sexual identity, as well as female nudes. The show continues to bring back the .

In a breathtaking setting, the curators (two men, one woman) take visitors on a “transformative journey that reimagines the nude body as a vibrant canvas for diverse artistic expression and interpretation.” I promise.

Some artists have clever and original ideas that overturn the visual conventions of European art and depict lavishly clothed women in the company of naked men. Others, like bulls with bingo cards trudging across a well-plowed gender divide, claim in long descriptions that their work is “provocative, dangerous, and subversive.” .[s] A new frontier.”

Fotografiska ignores the generations of women photographers who explored these issues decades ago with its astonishing irreverence. Often, they make social and professional sacrifices rather than crowd-pleasing applause.

Overall, Fotografiska is a welcome new space for contemporary artists in Berlin. Even though its curators may sometimes sound like Edina Monsoon, the absolutely brilliant PR guru who plans fashion shows, she’s not sure what the world is like: photos of sad yet beautiful children, happy gay couples, and the world. I want a slogan like “health, zero pollution, and fashion conscious.” ”

The new Tacheles, which opened late last year, has received an ambivalent reception, with some lamenting that alternative Berlin has only recently succumbed to big capital.

But in a city where change is the only constant, the new Tacheles are living in the moment. Gleefully monetizing its anarchist past, this highly capitalistic new venue is, perhaps unwittingly, embracing the false memory syndrome that filled the obituaries of defunct art collectives.

On my way out, I noticed a Swedish woman posing for photographers in the arcade, braving the Siberian wind in a white fur hat and oversized Kansas City Chiefs jersey.

As that nameless Irish philosopher once said, it is what it is and we are where we are.

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