Categories
Observation Psychogeography Some Questions of the Drift

Some Questions of the Drift

Weather vane, NSEW, blue sky, light
Kirk Wynd, Kirkcaldy

I ask you: 

– What is the weight of light?

– Clarice Lispector

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Merchant's House, Kirkcaldy
Merchant’s House, Kirkcaldy

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 – What are the colours of time?

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Merchant's House Kirkcaldy II
Merchant’s House Kirkcaldy II

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 – What are the sounds of the stones?

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 – When does the inside become the outside?

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Rosyth Church - East Gable Inner - from West
Rosyth Church – East Gable Inner – from West

Gravestone, decay, erosion
St Cuthbert’s Churchyard, Edinburgh

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 – What is the material of memory?

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– What would the trees think?

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Scot's Pine - Devilla Forest, Fife
Devilla Forest, Fife

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Limekilns, Fife

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– What is the geography of a butterfly?

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CIMG1841
Lochore Meadows, Fife

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– What is the shape of flight?

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– When does the local become  – the universal?

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Burntisland from The Binn
Burntisland from The Binn

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– Where does the sky begin?

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Digbeth Derive
Digbeth, Birmingham

– What is the taste of place?

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Cafe now Open – Digbeth Birmingham

 

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Custard Factory, Digbeth

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– Where are the energy flows?

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Abandoned factory, Digbeth

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– What is the future of the past?

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Watching over Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow
Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow

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– Who watches the watcher?

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George Square, Glasgow
George Square, Glasgow

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 – Who controls this space?

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 – Who determines the boundary?

CIMG1210
Hadrian’s Wall
Berlin Wall
The Berlin Wall
Keep Out
Limekilns, Danger, Keep Out

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Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow
Sauchiehall Street Glasgow

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–  Where is the coldness of the sun?

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– What is the gravity of the moon?

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at Mogwai play Zidane, Broomielaw, Glasgow
at Mogwai play Zidane, Broomielaw, Glasgow
Rosyth Station, Car Park
Rosyth Station, Car Park

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– Where is the boundary of night?

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Under Regent Bridge, Calton Road, Edinburgh (Callum Innes installation).
Under Regent Bridge, Calton Road, Edinburgh (Callum Innes installation).

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Where is the future of  freedom?

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Stirling Jail car park mural. Detail from Freedom Versions v.1
Stirling Jail car park mural. Detail from Freedom Versions v.1

– What is the distance of love?

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Berlin Wall, late 1980s. Looking towards the East
Berlin Wall, late 1980s. Looking towards the East

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Opening quote from Clarice Lispector’s The Hour of the Star.

The photos of the Berlin Wall are from an inter-railing trip in the late 1980s. It was a coincidence to rediscover them in an old shoebox on the day that it was announced Lou Reed had died.  I can still vividly recall a lurid, orange BASF cassette being pressed into my hand in the school playground. “Listen to this!”  It was a recording of Rock n Roll Animal. Things changed.

I can still remember a number of the cassettes that travelled in the rucksack on that inter-railing adventure. Berlin was certainly one of them.

Now playing: Lou Reed – Berlin. RIP LR.

Categories
Field Trip Observation

Postscript: The (Other) Firebugs of Kreuzberg

Photograph © Nir Naussbaum with thanks
Photograph © Nir Naussbaum with thanks

A short postscript to a previous post The Firebugs of Kreuzberg:

A friend from Berlin commented that the piece was quite different from what they had anticipated from the title:

“You do know about the other Firebugs of Kreuzberg right?”

“Eh, no…remember it was only a fleeting visit whilst on holiday!”

I was helpfully sent a clutch of links to some newspaper articles which outline how ‘firebug’ arson attacks on high-end cars have been increasing in Berlin in recent years. It would appear that BMW, Mercedes and Porsche are the favoured brands to toast. There is a long history of traditional May Day protests in Kreuzberg culminating in car burnings, however, these articles suggest that the number of politically motivated firebug attacks is increasing. The attacks appear to be an expression of both anti-gentrification protest and also of a more general grievance against ‘the rich’ as Germany attempts to navigate the global, economic malaise.  The record annual number of car burnings  in Berlin was previously 401 in 2009.  In April 2012, it was reported that this had risen to over 700 in 2011. Whilst car burning incidents have taken place across Berlin, the majority cluster around the central districts of Kreuzberg, Mitte and Prenzlauer Berg.  Not surprisingly, these are places where the usual gentrification tensions arise between relatively wealthy incomers and poor long-term residents and play out against rising rents and property prices and the polarization of employment opportunities.

Trying to attribute arson attacks as politically motivated or copycat vandalism is not something that the politicians or police appear to wish to address although an unemployed man was jailed in April 2012 for seven years. He was prosecuted on 86 charges of arson involving 102 cars. As a motive he said that he: “hated the affluent”. Meanwhile, given the sheer number  of car burnings, it looks as if many other disaffected ‘firebugs’ continue to  evade detection, regardless of motive.

As a final aside, I was also interested to receive a comment from Emina Redzic who recognised the insects in the original piece. In Serbia they are called “palikuce” or as directly translated into English “arsonists”.

Perhaps these little insects may be even more mysterious than we originally thought.

Selected References:

1 . Berlin Police Chief: Don’t Park Fancy Cars in Kreuzberg

2. Berlin’s burning cars a hot topic in forthcoming elections

3. Arsonists Torch Berlin Porsches, BMWs on Economic Woe

4. Berlin as Battleground: “Don’t Park your Porsche in Kreuzberg”

5. Arsonist Gets 7 Years for Burning Luxury Vehicles.

Now Playing: Swans – We Rose From Your Bed With The Sun In Our Head

Categories
Field Trip Happenstance I Remember Observation Psychogeography Sounds of Spaces and Places

The Firebugs of Kreuzberg

Kreuzberg Graffiti 1

Retain your memories
but détourn them
so that they correspond with your era.

Asger Jorn

We are in Berlin travelling on the U-Bahn to Kottbusser Tor in Kreuzberg. It is a gloriously warm April morning with fists of sunlight starting to punch through the clouds. From the elevated train tracks we can survey the sweeping spread of the city below. In the foreground, a graffiti inscribed, cubist assemblage written on to the earth. “How do they manage to get up there to paint it? asks R, pointing to a 3-D effect trompe l’oeil covering the entire gable end of a tall building. A and I marvel at the scale and ambition. An exploding riot of colour and illusion.  We both shrug our shoulders…

I had been in Kreuzberg the previous evening at a gig in the HAU 2 theatre complex. (As an aside, I was delighted to discover later that this building was the original site of the Zodiak Free Arts Lab formed by Conrad Schnitzler, Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Boris Schaak in 1968. More on this below if interested. (1)).  I didn’t have much time to stroll around the streets beforehand but picked up a little of the night ambiance. Clearly the zest to inscribe almost any available surface with graffiti and street art was alive and well.  I realised that my previous visit to Berlin had been when the Wall was still standing and  Kreuzberg was the beating heart of a chaotic, edgy, alternative radicalism.  An enclave of squatters, artists and musicians, living cheek by jowl with the, largely Turkish, immigrant population.  At the time it felt like some bunkered interzone within the island of Berlin. A city trapped and adrift in topography, history and cold war paranoia. Inter-railing around Europe, I remember having to scrape up the Deutschmarks to buy a ticket and visa to allow travel through the DDR from Hamburg.  Walking out of Zoo Station with a head full of Berlin tropes: Bowie, Iggy, Lou Reed and Christiane F.  I could imagine witnessing scenes of Blixa Bargeld and Nick Cave holding court in the bars of SO36 underneath the watch towers.  On reflection, a romanticised, pop-culture depiction of the city shaped more by the NME than by any history or guide-book.

Around twenty-five years later I’m walking out of Kottbusser Tor station with the family still carrying these ghosts of memory.  It feels a bit surreal to experience the bright sunshine and languid air of the street as we set off in search of the Turkish market down on the banks of the Landwehrkanal. We pass the grocery stores and a few cafes where groups of men  (and it is all men) are sitting outside sipping Turkish coffee and gossiping.  It’s only a short walk to the canal and it evidently becomes apparent that we have either got the day or our directions wrong. There is no sign of any Turkish market.  Perhaps Bowie, Iggy and Blixa can help guide us? Feed us a few signs? However, R is already off. A nine-year old is not going to hang around whilst our putative tour guides attempt to get their shit together.

Unburdened by worldly cares, unfettered by learning, free of ingrained habit, negligent of time, the child is open to the world.

Yi-Fu Tuan

Children are natural and consummate psychogeographers. They can  happily drift through any environment, urban or rural, seeking out and following the signs of place that speak to them. With the city as potential playground R, starts to saunter on ahead of us, leading the drift, although, of course, not aware or caring that this is what is happening.  We wander along the tree-lined canal path for a good stretch and apart from the dog shit, and occasional jogger, the city takes on an almost rural feel.  Bowie, Iggy and Blixa are struggling to keep up. I think they may have stopped for a fag. The sunlight is clearly not agreeing with them.

I could feel the interest of our spectral trio dissolve even further as we sat down on a bench to marvel at two magnificent white swans and a group of mallards bobbing on the canal.  “How do the swans keep so white in the city?” A pleasure boat chugs past and the gentle wake lip-lips against the canal sides. Our quiet reverie is broken when the larger swan rises out of the water, and extends its full wingspan. For a moment it looks as if the wingtips will almost touch either side of the canal.  A few strong beats and the swan takes to the air. We wonder where it can be heading and whether the birds flew freely between East and West when the Wall was up.

Against a riot of cubist, Kreuzberg colour
–   “Fuck Yuppies – Reclaim the Streets”
a white swan rises from the water
outstretched wings unfurling,
almost pushing
the canal walls apart.

We can feel ourselves being pulled into another city world as a ladybird lands on A’s arm. I love how ladybirds always look hand painted. After watching it run over her skin, it pauses to open its tiny wings as if basking in the sun. R lets it run on to her fingers and kneels down to reunite the hand daubed, smudge of colour with the greenery beneath the lime trees.  She discovers the bustling activities of an ant colony and we observe the  industry of the leaf carrying comrades, marching in their regimented lines – lugging, organising, creating.  Sucked in closer to the unfolding drama of this animistic, micro world, we start to notice other flecks of red and black moving amongst the earthy shades of leaf mould. They are not ladybirds.  We are looking at hordes of small insects that are completely unknown to us. Some scurry around alone, whilst others pile on top of each other to accumulate into little shuffling balls of red and black. Too absorbed in the moment, we ‘forget’ to take a picture of them.  It is only once we are home that we eventually manage to find an image and identify these mysterious little creatures as firebugs.  From now on they will be known as The Firebugs of Kreuzberg.

Firebug

Time has dissolved as we eventually head away from the canal and start to re-enter Kreuzberg street life. We start to notice the hum of cars again. A Mad Max biker type walks past with a tiny dog on a pink lead. The dog is sporting a bandanna. Our drift takes us up the entire length of Oranienstrasse, the main street of the district.  It is still pretty quiet in daylight and we pass the door of SO36, the club where Bowie and Iggy used to hang out and, by now, have probably once again, taken refuge. R has commandeered the camera and is now taking photographs, still drifting through a city more akin to Hayao Miyazaki’s animistic universe than my one populated with spectral ghosts. The signs are speaking:

The Détourned Red Bulls of Oranienstrasse

The Red Bulls of Kreuzberg

The Goddess and Protector of Oranienstrasse

Goddess of Kreuzberg

The Visitor (detail from the side of a parked van)

Lounging on Oranienstrasse

We eventually return full circle and ascend the steps back up to Kottbusser Tor station. Our quest to find Turkish markets, and gain enlightenment from Bowie, Iggy and Blixa has failed.  They have all remained spectral and elusive.  Our drift has pulled us into another dimension of Kreuzberg. One of canal paths, white swans, mallards, ants, and détourned red bulls.  Above all, we have discovered and witnessed something mysterious and new. The red and black insects that we now know as The Firebugs of Kreuzberg.

That’s all from the Berlin holiday. It’ll be back to Fife next. Possibly Cowdenbeath!

Now playing: Kluster – Klopfzeichen

♦ ♦

(1) HAU 2 and The Zodiak Free Arts Lab

I was excited to learn that, after a hiatus of twelve years, Keith Rowe, Oren Ambarchi, Christian Fennesz, Peter Rehberg (Pita) and Pimmon were reconvening their curiously named Afternoon Tea project for one night only in Kreuzberg. It was delightful happenstance to discover that this was happening on one of the nights of our holiday.  I headed down to the HAU 2 venue and certainly wasn’t disappointed. One long piece saw this stellar ensemble layer up a set of dark, fractured shards of glitch improv, punctuated with blankets of shimmering serenity. A deep, meditative, all embracing sound. An unfolding. Ambarchi sat almost motionless unleashing his trademark sonic  ‘depth charges’. The aural equivalent of watching and feeling a lava lamp. The bass resonance of the note entering through the feet and traveling up and out of the body.  It was also good to see Keith Rowe having to play in a much louder and busier sound environment than the last couple of times I’ve encountered him. Fennesz couldn’t help but attempt to excavate and instil some melodic fragments into the proceedings whilst Rehberg and Pimmon intervened with pincer movements of laptop noise assault. All in all a fabulous event to witness and experience in the dark, minimal space of HAU 2.

The happenstance of this event was further enhanced when I later discovered that HAU 2 was actually the original site of the Zodiak Free Arts Lab or Zodiac Club, formed by Conrad Schnitzler, Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Boris Schaak in 1968. Whilst only open for a few months, the Zodiak was a melting pot where “freaks and avant-gardists of all stripes could enjoy live psychedelia, free jazz, free performance and freakout”. (A1). It was a space also directly responsible for the emergence of Kluster (Schnitzler/Roedelius/Moebius) and Tangerine Dream, at that time with Schnitzler and Klaus Schulz in the ranks.  This early  incarnation of the Tangs is light years away from the vapid new-age pap that they later embraced in the 1980s.

The first few Kluster albums were engineered by a young Conny Plank who brought his experience of working with Edgar Varese to give some shape and coherence to the brutalist improvised chaos of this embryonic kosmische music. With the subsequent exit of Schnitzler and a later name change to Cluster, the sound took on a softer edge and the recording of classic kosmische albums such as Cluster II, Zuckerzeit, Sowiesoso and Cluster & Eno. The Zodiak also hosted performances by, amongst others, Agitation Free, Ash Ra Tempel, Human Being, Peter Brotzmann and Alexander Von Schlippenbach.

I love it when buildings can reveal their embedded memories like this. From a few months activity, the ripples from the epicentre are still being felt.

(A1) Nikolaos Kotsopoulos (Ed), (2009), Krautrock: Cosmic Rock and It’s Legacy, (London: black dog publishing).