The flight from Detroit to Frankfurt went just fine. There weren’t any personal movie screens built into the seats like on Northwest, but the plane was nearly empty and each of us had a row on which to stretch out. After snoozing another hour in the Frankfurt airport and then another on the connecting flight, I arrived in Berlin. Let me tell you, what this city does not lack is housing. No wonder it’s so cheap. Like most European cities, Berlin is low and sprawls for miles. However, from a view above, the apartment buildings stack like a Monopoly hotel orgy.
When the machine that distributes bus tickets was only in German (and wouldn’t accept my credit card), I began to regret the whole trip here. What was I thinking? Whatever it was, it was in English, French and even a little bit of Spanish – everything but German. Then two women came to my rescue. One actually looked like an old GSI and the other a girl I once met in New York. They spoke English and argued with the bus driver when he demanded exact change. The “GSI” ended up paying for my ticket.
I feel that I look like every other twenty-something girl in this city. They all have distinctive vintage boots, wool peacoats, and short haircuts. Of course, most of them are blonde and have a couple inches on my 172 cm frame. It also seems to me that nobody has perfected the bedhead hairstyle better than the male Berliner.
After maneuvering the bus route and U-Bahn, I met Sergio, who owns the apartment I’m staying in. He is Peruvian and multilingual (German, English, Spanish, and French). He is an artist and writer, and participates in an art collective that runs their own gallery. My room has a strong Internet connection, a stack of art magazines, Sergio’s photographs and a little balcony strewn with weathered Tibetan prayer flags. The other room will be let out to a friend of his who will act as an artist-in-residence. In two weeks the apartment will be opened to the public to exhibit the installation she creates.
I took a couple of minutes to settle and then Sergio and I left to attend a discussion at an independent art institution, NGBK (Oranienstr. 2). The lecture and discussion series is following a workshop that was hosted this past week in Berlin. Sergio's friend, the one who will be moving into the room next to mine, was one of the participating artists. Representatives from art academies all over Europe and Latin America came together to discuss Derrida’s theory of a condition-less university. Each day, they would simultaneously participate in a discussion and create their work collaboratively as a response. The curator and director of the project, Bettina Steinbrügge, led the discussions. She curates with this idea of a subjective academy and values the individual mind most when it’s matched up against another. In short, by posing the right questions, she too became an artist, because the line separating curatorial direction and artistic production blurred to the extent that it became impossible to determine what exactly was the product (the art object? The knowledge exchanged or, even better, created from the discussion?). So tonight Bettina presented on this, specifically “subjective academy-forms of knowledge production in artistic and curatorial practice.” Afterward, our discussion went from critiquing the institution of critiquing institutions (what it means to do this, what generation of critique we are presently in, how to define an institution, and what Derrida means by destruction versus creation) to the Adornoian difference between creation and production as it applies to secondary education. Because the crowd was made up of dozens of nationalities, the discussion was held in English.
Someone brought up the excellent point that, these days, almost all knowledge is being created in non-academic scientific institutions (think private technical programs). Somewhat unrelated, Bettina said she read a study that determined Germany would peak economically if only 10% of its population were among the very educated (that is, acquired a masters or doctoral degree). It was so inspirational to see a group of intellectuals and artists together to discuss theory in a way that directly applies to the real and practical side of artistic production and presentation and that a good portion of the crowd was actively participating and debating. Nobody acted stubborn or ran out in a huff. People took the time to reflect on what was said and to respond thoughtfully. I have never been so excited to go to grad school. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was this intellectually tickled.
Thank you and good night.
How nice of that woman to pay for your fare. How are you adjusting to the time change? By the time I get used to the hour difference here, it will have changed again.