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| »Laub«, Dia-Wand, 2003 |
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| »Thälmannpark« |
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| »2. Mai 2002« |
Madeleine Schuppli im Katalog "Gesellschaftsbilder – Images of Society", Kunstmuseum Thun, 2003
28. März 2014
Ausstellung »Laub«, Galerie Klosterfelde Berlin, 2003
Madeleine Schuppli im Katalog "Gesellschaftsbilder – Images of Society", Kunstmuseum Thun, 2003
27. März 2014
Das Wohngebiet, 2001
Diaprojektion, 39 x 59 cm, 20 Dias
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| Ausstellung »Laub«, Galerie Klosterfelde Berlin, 2003 |
26. März 2014
VII.–XI. Jahresausstellung, 2010
»Wenn der nackte einzelne Mensch Thema einer Plastik ist, dann bestimmt das in dem Werk dargestellte Menschenbild, ob es zu einer nationalsozialistischen Interpretation geeignet ist. Kann die Plastik die 'positiven' Begriffe der nationalsozialistischen Terminologie ausdrücken, dann kann es in die Kulturpolitik eingepasst werden.« (1)
Im Bestand der Bibliotheca Hertziana in Rom befinden sich die Kataloge der Jahresausstellungen in der Villa Massimo von 1939 bis 1943. Beim Durchblättern der Kataloge habe ich mit Erstaunen festgestellt, dass einige der bedeutendsten Bildhauer der DDR zur Zeit des Nationalsozialismus Stipendiaten in Rom gewesen sind, z.B. Fritz Cremer, der Schöpfer des Buchenwald-Denkmals. Obwohl alle in den Katalogen abgebildeten Skulpturen figurativ und traditionell sind, gibt es doch Unterschiede in der künstlerischen Formsprache. Um diese Unterschiede auszuloten, habe ich einige Skulpturen gezeichnet. Dabei zeigte sich für mich mehr oder weniger deutlich, welche Arbeiten die Ästhetik der NS-Kunst verkörpern, und wie es einigen Urhebern gelingt, sich den Dogmen der nationalsozialistischen Kunstauffassung zu verweigern. Während einige Stipendiaten sich in ihren Arbeiten offensichtlich der »Darstellung des schönen, aktiven Menschen (widmen), der im Rahmen der Rassenlehre und des Nationalismus interpretiert werden kann« (2), nehmen die Figuren anderer Künstler gerade keine heldenhaften und symbolischen Posen ein. Es gab anscheinend außer Fritz Cremer, Waldemar Grzimek und Ruthild Hahne, die als ehemalige Gerstel-Schüler (3) die klassizistische Grundhaltung der Berliner Bildhauerschule bewahrt hatten, auch andere Stipendiaten, deren Werk »sich dem Zugriff der nationalsozialistischen Beschreibung entziehen konnte«. (4) (UK)
(2) Ebd. S. 90.
(3) Wilhelm Gerstel lehrte von 1924 bis 1945 an den Vereinigten Staatsschulen für Freie und Angewandte Kunst in Berlin und steht – wie Georg Kolbe, Richard Scheibe und Gerhard Marcks – in der Tradition der Berliner Bildhauerschule aus dem 19. Jahrhundert. Außerdem war er bei der Vergabe des Rom-Preises behilflich.
(4) Hartog, S. 91.
The Housing Area, 2001
The housing area between Grellstrasse and Erich-Weinert-Strasse, Gubitz- and Hosemannstrasse, is a small neighbourhood in northern Prenzlauer Berg in Berlin. Joint use of nurseries, garden plots and public greens has in part evolved during the last 50 years. Despite the partly desolate condition of some of the nearby buildings that were built in the 30s, the interpenetration of garden plots and kindergartens evokes a certain enchantment.
As a short cul-de-sac, Preußstrasse leads onto the premises. Around the yard a footpath has been laid out that runs in between blocks of houses and allotments. Some of the latter probably had to make way for the construction of the large buildings of the kindergarten Preußstrasse. After the war the area was said to be littered with rubbish. There is also a sizeable public playground.
The kindergarten ’Sonnenschein’, was opened in 1970 as one of the many Berlin in-house facilities of the gasboard, GASAG. At that time it was called ‘Kindergarten Gasversorgung’ (Kindergarten Gas Supply) or ‘Kindergarten Gubitzstrasse 17a’. After the merger of GASAG and Bewag, (the local energy suppliers) it became staff kindergarten of the ‘VEB Energiekombinat’. However, not only employees’ children were looked after here. The kindergarten was erected on grounds that the locals had previously used as a sports ground. Its immediate neighbours are the holders of allotments. ’The green oasis is a little paradise that you wouldn’t necessarily come to expect behind the grey facades.’ Frau Schröder has been head of the nursery for 19 years. Two of the teachers have been working here since its opening. At the moment, 73 children are being looked after on the premises, while during the time of the GDR there were 120 places. At that time, one person was in charge of 22 children. During the summer, the older children went along with their pre-school teachers to the company-owned holiday camp in Ferch.
Contact with residents and other local institutions has been in decline over the past few years, but the kindergarten is striving to cooperate with different establishments. The children can visit the sauna of an independent kindergarten in Mandelstrasse, for instance, and they use the gym of the nearby school. There still is cooperation with the Volkssolidarität (a charity organisation for senior citizens). The local old people’s homes don’t exist any more.
As a short cul-de-sac, Preußstrasse leads onto the premises. Around the yard a footpath has been laid out that runs in between blocks of houses and allotments. Some of the latter probably had to make way for the construction of the large buildings of the kindergarten Preußstrasse. After the war the area was said to be littered with rubbish. There is also a sizeable public playground.
The kindergarten ’Sonnenschein’, was opened in 1970 as one of the many Berlin in-house facilities of the gasboard, GASAG. At that time it was called ‘Kindergarten Gasversorgung’ (Kindergarten Gas Supply) or ‘Kindergarten Gubitzstrasse 17a’. After the merger of GASAG and Bewag, (the local energy suppliers) it became staff kindergarten of the ‘VEB Energiekombinat’. However, not only employees’ children were looked after here. The kindergarten was erected on grounds that the locals had previously used as a sports ground. Its immediate neighbours are the holders of allotments. ’The green oasis is a little paradise that you wouldn’t necessarily come to expect behind the grey facades.’ Frau Schröder has been head of the nursery for 19 years. Two of the teachers have been working here since its opening. At the moment, 73 children are being looked after on the premises, while during the time of the GDR there were 120 places. At that time, one person was in charge of 22 children. During the summer, the older children went along with their pre-school teachers to the company-owned holiday camp in Ferch.
After German unification the nursery came once more under the ownership of GASAG, which handed it over to the city of Berlin shortly thereafter. It was important to Frau Schröder at that time that both the kindergarten and its grounds were not to be sold. The financial situation as an in-house kindergarten had been ideal, parents had helped design and furnish the kindergarten.
Since the borough took over, budgetary funds were cut steadily, so that renovation work could no longer be carried out. Last autumn, the janitor’s post was also cut. To support the kindergarten, parents, teachers and friends set up an association.
The playschool is fitted with night-storage heaters. ’But they still work very well, it is nice and cosy here.’
The playschool is fitted with night-storage heaters. ’But they still work very well, it is nice and cosy here.’
Contact with residents and other local institutions has been in decline over the past few years, but the kindergarten is striving to cooperate with different establishments. The children can visit the sauna of an independent kindergarten in Mandelstrasse, for instance, and they use the gym of the nearby school. There still is cooperation with the Volkssolidarität (a charity organisation for senior citizens). The local old people’s homes don’t exist any more.
Adjacent there is a further facility of the borough of Pankow, the kindergarten Preußstrasse 6, which has access to three big terraces. Two state-run institutions used to be located in this building built in 1958: a Wochenkrippe (a care centre on the basis of a whole working week) and a kindergarten.
www.kita-sonnenschein.de
Tel. ”Sonnenschein” Frau Schröder: 424 40 44
Tel. Preußstrasse 6: 424 41 92
www.kita-sonnenschein.de
Tel. ”Sonnenschein” Frau Schröder: 424 40 44
Tel. Preußstrasse 6: 424 41 92
Text written for the work »The Housing Area«, projection of 20 slides, 2001.
Johan Holten: Picture Descriptions
Finding a photograph with an adjacent text in an exhibition, we enter into an unwitting pact with the curator or artist responsible for the exhibition. We have faith that the text will make direct reference to the photo’s content; that it will help to explain what is shown. The text, or such are our expectations, ought to take over responsibility for decoding the image itself. Usually, the authority of the institution in which the exhibition is taking place leads us to accept this without further reassurance.
The same mechanism is probably kicking in right now. As the author of the text concerning the work Picture Descriptions by Ulrike Kuschel, in which the artist – who lives in Berlin – has collected together 60 black and white photographs, each with a text, you expect me to provide you with a description that simplifies your understanding of the work to such an extent that, if possible, you will have no further need to study the work yourself. Such expectations can be traced back to the cultural technique of exhibiting and the art-historical description of artworks, which has accompanied the gradual development of the modern museum and the academic discipline of art history since the 19th century. The title Picture Descriptions indicates that this cultural technique itself will constitute a central component of the work, suggesting that the descriptive text is not a neutral medium to convey content, but aims to guide the reader in his own study of this text category.
All this places the work by Ulrike Kuschel in a tradition of art works that have – since the 1960s – thematized the institutional practice of exhibiting itself in different ways: by directing the viewer’s attention, e.g. through a shifting and an irritation of perceptions, to the way in which content is conveyed and therefore perceived. From 1968 to 1972, Belgian artist Marcel Broodthaers created the partly imaginary Musée d’Art Moderne: Department des Aigles, in which all the objects and descriptions of eagles included were provided with a label “Fig. 1”, “Fig. 2”, etc. As a result of the numbering, the objects were robbed of their physical presence and transformed into symbolic figures, given their meaning through the subordinate system of museum organization. Marcel Broodthaers thus employed the cultural technique of the museum to open up a space for reflection on this very institution.
Ulrike Kuschel, however, is not concerned first and foremost with the ordering system of the museum. As in a large number of the artist’s works, the subject here is the subordinate system of the archive in general and the picture archive in particular. The texts in this work therefore describe 60 images from the archive Ullstein Bild, where the artist has worked for many years. But the photographs presented alongside them were found by the artist outside the archive, and in a further step, combined with observations that Kuschel has written from a first-person perspective. Furthermore each image-text pair is given a date from the year 2005, e.g. 11.05.2005. This already triggers our first irritation, as the date does not refer objectively to the photograph itself but to the artist’s subjective observations, which are captured in the written entries below the dates.
In the image-text pair beneath the heading 11.05.2005, we find information indicating that this is an exterior view of the Reichstag building around 1905, while a monument to Bismarck, the first chancellor of the German Empire, can be seen in the foreground. A quick look at the photographs appears to confirm this information. Indeed, the building now known as the German Bundestag can be seen there, without the glass dome that is so striking today but with its original roof construction. In front of the building it is also possible to make out a monument, which – when we look more closely – does represent a male figure with a form that suggests Bismarck. The pact between viewer and author concerning the method of picture description appears to have been reconstructed, therefore, after initial, slight doubts arising from the title choice. The first two paragraphs of the text give information about the photographers, the Haeckel brothers, and the second paragraph does not disturb the viewer’s and reader’s returning sense of reassurance either. Perhaps he will now stop reading, since he believes he can guess the text’s remaining content. But those who read the third paragraph carefully will be astounded. There is talk of a number of women in dark clothes, and some children and a nanny are also described. The latter is even supposed to be pushing a pram through the scene on the photograph, but as we see, the image is actually empty of people. Apparently, the small figures represent a great contrast to the male figure of the monument, which appears overly powerful as a result. Obviously, the artist has again cancelled the pact between the viewer and the author.
Intrigued, we continue to read or turn to a second image and text pair. After three or four exemplary tests, we may have determined that the artist is playing a strange game with her descriptions. In no case do they seem completely contingent and yet they always deviate from the photographs – to varying extents.
For instance, the description of a house that was reconstructed shortly after the capitulation in 1945 using bricks from ruined houses appears to correspond well to the appropriate photograph, until suddenly, people – the builders – are described in such a rich detail that this cannot possibly be brought into harmony with the one tiny figure shown in the photo. The grandstand of the Reich’s party rallying grounds in Nuremberg is described meticulously in another text, and Hitler himself is described as standing in front of the flags. The photograph placed alongside it, however, is an aerial view of the rally grounds in Nuremberg taken from a great distance, upon which Hitler – even if he had been there at the time of the photo – would be scarcely discernible. Again and again, the viewer’s perception skids back and forth between the text and the image, led by apparently congruent similarities and noticeable contradictions, which clearly undermine the conventions of a picture description.
Finally, the viewer realizes that the artist is indeed awakening real photographs to life in her picture descriptions; photos which perhaps originate from the same period as the reproductions here, but show another situation, a differing perspective or sometimes even a completely different motif. But how can we be sure that the apparently factual information reflects historical facts? Where is the boundary between approximate knowledge and indisputable fact? Ulrike Kuschel takes the convention of picture description as a starting point from which to question productively the faith we place in picture archives as a correct reproduction of historical facts. She creates new, alternative truths and so points to the fundamental subjectivity of fact. The artist Ulrike Kuschel distorts our innocent view of the organizational system of the picture archive.
in: Dear Aby Warburg, what can be done with images?, Kehrer Verlag Berlin, 2012, p. 192-194. Catalogue published by Eva Schmidt and Ines Rüttinger on the occasion of the exhibition with the same name at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Siegen.
The same mechanism is probably kicking in right now. As the author of the text concerning the work Picture Descriptions by Ulrike Kuschel, in which the artist – who lives in Berlin – has collected together 60 black and white photographs, each with a text, you expect me to provide you with a description that simplifies your understanding of the work to such an extent that, if possible, you will have no further need to study the work yourself. Such expectations can be traced back to the cultural technique of exhibiting and the art-historical description of artworks, which has accompanied the gradual development of the modern museum and the academic discipline of art history since the 19th century. The title Picture Descriptions indicates that this cultural technique itself will constitute a central component of the work, suggesting that the descriptive text is not a neutral medium to convey content, but aims to guide the reader in his own study of this text category.
All this places the work by Ulrike Kuschel in a tradition of art works that have – since the 1960s – thematized the institutional practice of exhibiting itself in different ways: by directing the viewer’s attention, e.g. through a shifting and an irritation of perceptions, to the way in which content is conveyed and therefore perceived. From 1968 to 1972, Belgian artist Marcel Broodthaers created the partly imaginary Musée d’Art Moderne: Department des Aigles, in which all the objects and descriptions of eagles included were provided with a label “Fig. 1”, “Fig. 2”, etc. As a result of the numbering, the objects were robbed of their physical presence and transformed into symbolic figures, given their meaning through the subordinate system of museum organization. Marcel Broodthaers thus employed the cultural technique of the museum to open up a space for reflection on this very institution.
Ulrike Kuschel, however, is not concerned first and foremost with the ordering system of the museum. As in a large number of the artist’s works, the subject here is the subordinate system of the archive in general and the picture archive in particular. The texts in this work therefore describe 60 images from the archive Ullstein Bild, where the artist has worked for many years. But the photographs presented alongside them were found by the artist outside the archive, and in a further step, combined with observations that Kuschel has written from a first-person perspective. Furthermore each image-text pair is given a date from the year 2005, e.g. 11.05.2005. This already triggers our first irritation, as the date does not refer objectively to the photograph itself but to the artist’s subjective observations, which are captured in the written entries below the dates.
In the image-text pair beneath the heading 11.05.2005, we find information indicating that this is an exterior view of the Reichstag building around 1905, while a monument to Bismarck, the first chancellor of the German Empire, can be seen in the foreground. A quick look at the photographs appears to confirm this information. Indeed, the building now known as the German Bundestag can be seen there, without the glass dome that is so striking today but with its original roof construction. In front of the building it is also possible to make out a monument, which – when we look more closely – does represent a male figure with a form that suggests Bismarck. The pact between viewer and author concerning the method of picture description appears to have been reconstructed, therefore, after initial, slight doubts arising from the title choice. The first two paragraphs of the text give information about the photographers, the Haeckel brothers, and the second paragraph does not disturb the viewer’s and reader’s returning sense of reassurance either. Perhaps he will now stop reading, since he believes he can guess the text’s remaining content. But those who read the third paragraph carefully will be astounded. There is talk of a number of women in dark clothes, and some children and a nanny are also described. The latter is even supposed to be pushing a pram through the scene on the photograph, but as we see, the image is actually empty of people. Apparently, the small figures represent a great contrast to the male figure of the monument, which appears overly powerful as a result. Obviously, the artist has again cancelled the pact between the viewer and the author.
Intrigued, we continue to read or turn to a second image and text pair. After three or four exemplary tests, we may have determined that the artist is playing a strange game with her descriptions. In no case do they seem completely contingent and yet they always deviate from the photographs – to varying extents.
For instance, the description of a house that was reconstructed shortly after the capitulation in 1945 using bricks from ruined houses appears to correspond well to the appropriate photograph, until suddenly, people – the builders – are described in such a rich detail that this cannot possibly be brought into harmony with the one tiny figure shown in the photo. The grandstand of the Reich’s party rallying grounds in Nuremberg is described meticulously in another text, and Hitler himself is described as standing in front of the flags. The photograph placed alongside it, however, is an aerial view of the rally grounds in Nuremberg taken from a great distance, upon which Hitler – even if he had been there at the time of the photo – would be scarcely discernible. Again and again, the viewer’s perception skids back and forth between the text and the image, led by apparently congruent similarities and noticeable contradictions, which clearly undermine the conventions of a picture description.
Finally, the viewer realizes that the artist is indeed awakening real photographs to life in her picture descriptions; photos which perhaps originate from the same period as the reproductions here, but show another situation, a differing perspective or sometimes even a completely different motif. But how can we be sure that the apparently factual information reflects historical facts? Where is the boundary between approximate knowledge and indisputable fact? Ulrike Kuschel takes the convention of picture description as a starting point from which to question productively the faith we place in picture archives as a correct reproduction of historical facts. She creates new, alternative truths and so points to the fundamental subjectivity of fact. The artist Ulrike Kuschel distorts our innocent view of the organizational system of the picture archive.
in: Dear Aby Warburg, what can be done with images?, Kehrer Verlag Berlin, 2012, p. 192-194. Catalogue published by Eva Schmidt and Ines Rüttinger on the occasion of the exhibition with the same name at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Siegen.
Bildbeschreibungen, 2005/2006
60 Collagen, 42 x 29,7 cm
Lucia Halder: Aby Warburg Superstar – Künstlerische Interpretation bildwissenschaftlicher Methoden.
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»Lieber Aby Warburg. Was tun mit Bildern?«, Kunstmuseum Siegen, 2013
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»Lieber Aby Warburg. Was tun mit Bildern?«, Kunstmuseum Siegen, 2013
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»Hervorzuheben ist eine Arbeit, die in Werkform und Display einen besonderem Bezug für bildwissenschaftliche Zugänge bietet: Die Arbeit von Ulrike Kuschel spielt mit dem Kontext der Bilder. Indem sie 60 Fotografien aus dem Ullstein Bildarchiv mit einem fiktiven Bildtext versieht, suggeriert sie historische Kontextualisierung. Bei näherer Betrachtung wird deutlich, dass die Texte von der Künstlerin in Ich-Perspektive verfasst wurden und auf das Jahr 2005 datiert sind. Durch diese Irritation zwingt die Autorin den Betrachter sich mit dem Bild-Text-Verhältnis auseinander zu setzen. Sie berührt damit grundlegende Fragen der historischen Bildforschung: 'In welchen Kontexten bestimmte Bilder entstehen, an wen sie adressiert sind und wie sie darin ihre eigenen Gesetzlichkeiten entwickeln, die bei einer Heranziehung von Bildern als Quelle entsprechend zu berücksichtigen wären.«
Lucia Halder: Aby Warburg Superstar – Künstlerische Interpretation bildwissenschaftlicher Methoden.
Erschienen in: Fotogeschichte 129, 2013, anlässlich der Ausstellung »Lieber Aby Warburg. Was tun mit Bildern?« im Kunstmuseum Siegen.
12 Plakate zur politischen und Wehrerziehung in der DDR, 2004
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| Ausstellung »Atomkrieg« im Kunsthaus Dresden, 2004 |
25. März 2014
12 Posters about Political and Defence Education in the GDR, 2004
12 silkscreen prints, 59,4 x 84cm and 84 x 59,4cm
Installation view, exhibition »Atomkrieg«, Kunsthaus Dresden, 2004
The aspirations of the monopoly bourgeoisie become clearer if the phrase "their efforts to gain power" is replaced with "their struggle for power".
First page of a booklet, 14,8 x 21 cm, published on the occasion of the exhibition »Atomkrieg« (Nuclear War) at the Kunsthaus Dresden in 2004
Installation view, exhibition »Atomkrieg«, Kunsthaus Dresden, 2004
The aspirations of the monopoly bourgeoisie become clearer if the phrase "their efforts to gain power" is replaced with "their struggle for power".
First page of a booklet, 14,8 x 21 cm, published on the occasion of the exhibition »Atomkrieg« (Nuclear War) at the Kunsthaus Dresden in 2004
Translation:
Consider the risks inherent in the arms race that was instigated by imperialism.
Questions for my former classmates and others who went to school in the GDR in the 1980s
I am taking the opportunity presented by an invitation to take part in a group exhibition at the Kunsthaus Dresden on the topic of nuclear war to investigate the fears I had of this danger at the beginning of the 1980s. And they were extreme and intense, triggered, by the way, in a lesson given by Frau Richter. Maybe you remember her? She told us all about the consequences the dropping of a nuclear bomb would have. As she was our class teacher only in the school year of 1982/83 – we were in 5th class – and such ideological influence was exerted by the form master at every appropriate occasion, and this most certainly existed at that time, it must have been around then. I can still remember the visual materials used: a diagram in the form of the circles, each of which marked the various danger zones around the point of impact and explained the damage to be expected, for example, instant death, burns of the xth degree, death after x number of years. I’m trying to locate this material.
Almost everyone I’ve asked can’t recall this. I’d really like to ask everybody though, so as to scrutinise my own memory. I’m also interested in collecting similar experiences, mainly from the school context, experiences which were not particularly appropriate for children and created such an overwhelming impression that you couldn’t really deal with them and what this possibly triggered off in you. Were you also so scared of a nuclear war at the beginning of the 1980s? I’d be really pleased to hear from you if you can help me. In my research into the literature of the time I’m concentrating on political-ideological education, defence lessons and how other aspects of defence education were treated in other subjects. I’m interested in any personal memories which point in this direction, particularly if they are related to the everyday school routine. I have to admit that the whole thing is proving to be personally enriching and I’ve come to understand quite a deal about the national education system after all these years. (January 2004)
I am taking the opportunity presented by an invitation to take part in a group exhibition at the Kunsthaus Dresden on the topic of nuclear war to investigate the fears I had of this danger at the beginning of the 1980s. And they were extreme and intense, triggered, by the way, in a lesson given by Frau Richter. Maybe you remember her? She told us all about the consequences the dropping of a nuclear bomb would have. As she was our class teacher only in the school year of 1982/83 – we were in 5th class – and such ideological influence was exerted by the form master at every appropriate occasion, and this most certainly existed at that time, it must have been around then. I can still remember the visual materials used: a diagram in the form of the circles, each of which marked the various danger zones around the point of impact and explained the damage to be expected, for example, instant death, burns of the xth degree, death after x number of years. I’m trying to locate this material.
Almost everyone I’ve asked can’t recall this. I’d really like to ask everybody though, so as to scrutinise my own memory. I’m also interested in collecting similar experiences, mainly from the school context, experiences which were not particularly appropriate for children and created such an overwhelming impression that you couldn’t really deal with them and what this possibly triggered off in you. Were you also so scared of a nuclear war at the beginning of the 1980s? I’d be really pleased to hear from you if you can help me. In my research into the literature of the time I’m concentrating on political-ideological education, defence lessons and how other aspects of defence education were treated in other subjects. I’m interested in any personal memories which point in this direction, particularly if they are related to the everyday school routine. I have to admit that the whole thing is proving to be personally enriching and I’ve come to understand quite a deal about the national education system after all these years. (January 2004)
Birgit
Unfortunately I can’t help you any further with the topic of nuclear war. I only moved to Berlin and joined the class in 1984/85. I remember nothing about Petra Richter and the diagram you mention. I also can’t remember having such intense fears. Sorry.
Doreen
Briefly here: like most people my memory is letting me down, and while I can remember some kind of danger zones, I’m not sure if I saw this on television or if it was explained to us at school, it’s totally slipped my mind. But I don’t think that it set off panic and anxiety, because I would certainly be able to remember if it did, for one doesn’t easily forget childhood fears (no matter how unreal they were).
Last but not least, it is the young people in our country who will always be prepared to defend their communist homeland and communism, i e their own vital interests. This is how we have brought them up and will continue to bring them up.
Unfortunately I can’t help you any further with the topic of nuclear war. I only moved to Berlin and joined the class in 1984/85. I remember nothing about Petra Richter and the diagram you mention. I also can’t remember having such intense fears. Sorry.
Doreen
Briefly here: like most people my memory is letting me down, and while I can remember some kind of danger zones, I’m not sure if I saw this on television or if it was explained to us at school, it’s totally slipped my mind. But I don’t think that it set off panic and anxiety, because I would certainly be able to remember if it did, for one doesn’t easily forget childhood fears (no matter how unreal they were).
Last but not least, it is the young people in our country who will always be prepared to defend their communist homeland and communism, i e their own vital interests. This is how we have brought them up and will continue to bring them up.
Consider the risks inherent in the arms race that was instigated by imperialism.
20. März 2014
»Ricarda Huch war oft in Heidelberg«, 2007
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Ricarda Huch (1864-1947) in Heidelberg
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Die Ausstellung im Studio vom Kunstverein Heidelberg nimmt die weithin in Vergessenheit geratene Schriftstellerin Ricarda Huch zum Ausgangspunkt. In Collagen und Schriftpostern wird sie als Zeugin und aktive Zeitgenossin bedeutender Entwicklungen in Deutschland vorgestellt.
Im Mittelpunkt der Ausstellung steht die Arbeit »Gleichschaltung - Nicht Zutreffendes bitte zu durchstreichen« (28 Collagen, s/w Laserprints und Typoskript auf Papier, 29,7 x 42 cm). Der Ausschluss von Heinrich Mann und Käthe Kollwitz aus der Preußischen Akademie der Künste in Berlin im Februar 1933 hatte die so genannte Gleichschaltung in der Abteilung für Dichtung ausgelöst. Von den 28 Mitgliedern der Abteilung für Dichtung weigerten sich sieben, die geforderte »Loyalitätserklärung« gegenüber dem nationalsozialistischen Regime zu unterschreiben, unter ihnen Ricarda Huch, Thomas Mann und Alfred Döblin. Ricarda Huchs Schriftwechsel mit der Preußischen Akademie der Künste, den sie von Heidelberg aus geführt hatte, ist mehrfach publiziert worden. Die Arbeit »Gleichschaltung – Nicht Zutreffendes bitte zu durchstreichen« versucht, diesen Vorgang exemplarisch zu dokumentieren. Ricarda Huch als Leitfigur verleiht der Beschäftigung mit historischen Ereignissen eine persönliche Perspektive.
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»Gleichschaltung - Nicht Zutreffendes bitte zu durchstreichen«, 28 Collagen, s/w Laserprints und Typoskript auf Papier, 29,7 x 42 cm, Detail
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»Gleichschaltung - Nicht Zutreffendes bitte zu durchstreichen«
links: Porträt Alfred Mombert von Carl Hofer, Sammlung Kurpfälzisches Museum Heidelberg |
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| Detail Albert Mombert |
»pictorial photography (Russlandbilder)«, 1997
»Schöne Welt«, mit Antje Majewski und Andrea Rostasy, Neuer Berliner Kunstverein, 1997
Friedrich Meschede: Wäre die Welt so schön wie heute
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Aufnahmen aus Novgorod, Balaklava, Sevastopol, Suzdal, nordöstlich von Moskau gelegen, führen uns in Landschaften, die nicht zu den populären Reisezielen gehören, aber es sind Orte mit historischer Tradition. (…) Ulrike Kuschel (ist) bestrebt, die Landschaften als ein Kontinuum von Zonen und Bereichen darzustellen. Sie lädt mit ihrem Betrachterstandort ein, in die Landschaft zu gehen, weil für Ulrike Kuschel die Photographie ein Medium ist, unterwegs zu sein; der Betrachter wird an der Wanderung beteiligt. In diesem Zusammenhang ist eine Hafenansicht oder Stadtvedute Ort und Station zugleich, das Bild ein Moment der Annäherung dahin. Ulrike Kuschel erzielt diese Wirkung durch einen Bildaufbau bzw. Bildausschnitt, der an überlieferten Werken der Malerei orientiert ist und die künstlerischen Schemata der Komposition nun in der Landschaft wiederfindet. Der perspektivische Aufbau des Ausschnitts ist von »Fluchtpunkten« bestimmt, die in der landschaftlichen Wirklichkeit Zielorte darstellen, an denen die Reise ruht; die Wanderung wird angehalten, um den Momenten Dauer zu verleihen. Es sind Augenblicke der Vergewisserung, denn diese Kulturlandschaften, die Ulrike Kuschel bereist, zeigen plötzlich ihre »Fehlstellen«, wie Ulrike Kuschel es nennt. Einst befanden sich dort Siedlungen, Klöster, Straßen, Mahnmale, heute weisen diese Stätten nur noch Fragmente davon auf, die Bedeutung ist überwachsen von Natur; die Landschaft wird zu einer zweiten Natur auf historischem Boden, worin die Figuren, die in den Bildern von Ulrike Kuschel zu sehen sind, wie bedächtige Wanderer wirken, die diesen Spuren nachzugehen suchen. Die vermeintlich intakte Landschaft, die uns vorgetäuscht wird, kann als ein ganz anderer Ort im Kopf entschlüsselt werden, die sprachlich-historische Zeit des Ortes wandelt sich zu einer bildnerischen Zeit der Wahrnehmung. Es ist die nachdenkliche Stille in den Bildern von Ulrike Kuschel, immer in einem Schwebezustand zwischen Melancholie und Apathie gehalten, tageszeitlich gesprochen ist es die Dämmerung, die Ulrike Kuschel in ihren Photographien festhält, wobei es auch hier wieder unbestimmt bleibt, ob es sich zum Morgen oder zum Abend hin wendet. So wie diese Tageszeit immer einen Übergang beschreibt, dessen Ausdruck man dauerhafter erhalten möchte, weil Licht- und Wettererscheinungen dramatisch lebendig wirken, so entspricht auch das Medium Photographie diesem Phänomen, dem unwirklichsten Moment im Realen Bestand verleihen zu wollen, die zeitliche Fehlstelle noch gerade sichtbar werden zu lassen.
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Katalog »Schöne Welt«, Hrsg.: Neuer Berliner Kunstverein, 1997 , S. 10-11.
»belonging – Sehnsucht und Zugehörigkeit«, Shedhalle Zürich, 2001
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