“hopefully not the last time”: First Ten Days in Berlin

 

Morning in Neukölln Berlin, RIP Teddy. 

“hopefully not the last time”: First Ten Days in Berlin

I hadn’t been to Berlin in a year. Caroline would be off West for a writer’s retreat meeting us later, the teenager staying in Brooklyn to hang with Grandpa for a Brooklyn summer, the teenager there to greet me. Walked out of our warm apartment in downtown Brooklyn, to grab a train to the JFK. Through security, we careened across the ocean, two hour lines in passport control because of the Euros. and found myself back in Berlin. Met the college kid, whose living in Berlin, in Kreutzberg for a gorgeous summer afternoon, magic hour light, people out on the water on the Admiralbrucke, the teenager running into  a friend, chatting with Federico, out for a bite after a long journey from the US. Everyone’s watching France and the US and Hungary and it's right wing alliance. Strange days. For now a quiet journey into summer.

Looking around you find an open city, emerging from the interzone, divided, between east, west, north, south, for the cold war, ever merging and diverging into a free city.  For how long, no one knows. 

Thursday, the college kid presented in art history class, during a walk through of the exhibitions at New National Galley. Members of Pussy riot were playing an electronic show as I arrived, their disonant sound filling the air. 

The show: “Test of endurance. Art between politics and society Collection of the National Gallery 1945 – 2000.” The art of the second half of the 20th century is characterized by a variety of materials, media and methods. At the same time, hardly any other era was so marked by division and conflict, but also by renewal: "A tensile test. Art between politics and society" is the name of this collection presentation by the New National Gallery on art after 1945 up to the turn of the millennium. The Holocaust and war, awakening and emancipation, the Cold War and the fall of the Berlin Wall led to tensions within society and to fundamental realignments in the visual arts.” 

The tension is everywhere, throughout history and the streets, elections putting democrats vs autocrats. Strange to find myself walking through the Warhol show, Velvet Rage and Beauty “The title of the exhibition "Andy Warhol: Velvet Rage and Beauty" is a tribute to the book The Velvet Rage (2005), in which the author Alan Downs describes the feeling of growing up and living as a gay man in a heterosexually dominated world. Warhol died in 1987 at the age of just 58. He left behind a complex body of work that influenced subsequent generations of artists, but during his lifetime he never experienced the open acceptance to devote himself to this specific aspect of his work. While this queerness seems to be under threat again in many societies today, the exhibition in Berlin in 2024 takes the opportunity to bring together these expressive works for the first and hopefully not the last time.”

Could it all go away, all this openness? The whole city is a reminder that its happened before, from Weimar to book burnings, turning to flesh burnings, banned art, deportations, etc. 

Its fascinating being back, taking the trains through stops that have become familiar, walking past the bridges, seeing people out, playing cards, off to the galleries, to see the teenager presenting for her class, Pussy Riot playing, and then off to Claudia's opening,  reunion witb Rachel and the Berlin buddies, people dropping in to hang out.

Walking through Berlin, past the stumbling stones, memorials for those who perished in the Shoah, the stolpersteien, memory stones remind you. Looking at the Warhol video at Neue Nationalgalerie, a video played of Dean Johnson (1961–2007), who I saw perform and many years ago in Dallas. He was the consummate New York performance artist.  “Bendover Ben,” he he told me, in his deep voice, when I asked for his autograph. Watching, I found myself thinking about his untimely demise, about his plight  as a sex worker, as an outsider on the periphery, the queer cultures here that feel so precarious. Oh my Berlin, New York. Oh my.

Rachel sent out an invite for Friday, “to keep your Japan vibe going: This is a monthly techno night by my Japanese DJ friend, Mieko Suzuki, is celebrating its 15th anniversary tomorrow…” I dropped by around midnite. After a short queue, I found myself in a crowded venue across from the Kitkat, feeling, watching the slow build from ambience to a crescendo, over and over again, lunging through the crowd, ever convulsing with the beats till 4 AM. 

Saturday

Each day more friends, with stops from Schockoladen to Schmidt to the KitKat, all night, it was a full day. Last pics of the morning scene at Hermannplatz emerging from the metro at 7 am, techno, crazy stimulation, eyes, ears, scenes, Berlin smells, bad perfume, cigarette smoke and bodies, filling the night. \

Sunday

No sleep after a late night off to the Flomarket and coffee at  Schankwirtschaft Laidak where the cigs and coffee and conversations flow and then to Mein Bar where James looked like Hasselhof .... And we chatted for hours...and loophole closed, too many noise complains, and we all wondered about our fates.

Labor won big on the UK. The left won in France. After 14 years in power the Torries didn't do much about immigration. Maybe the big fear isn't so big.

Monday, spent the day chilling, and writing, relieved about France, and then met up with friends at Admiralbrucke and made our way back to cook and enjoy the sunset from the apartment before going to see a band that sounded like Chicago or New Orleans blues at their Monday Blues session on a lovely night at the Sandman, a music venue on Reuterstraße 7, 12053 Berlin.

“I’ve got plenty of men in my life, not enough life in my men,” sang along with Hermine, "Too many men in my life”. Song of the summer.

The stories on the street are many. By Tuesday, settling into a routine of yoga, errands in my cool new neighborhood, a few hours writing and catching up with friends, watching the games, telling stories about what seemed for many to be a complicated time this year, war in Gaza, slaughter, assaults on free  speech, looming insanity. Each day, wandandering the streets, wondering what to do, what will become of us all, learning about my new neighborhood of Neukölln.

“After the fall of the Berlin Wall , Neukölln's isolation ended. In the 1990s and 2000s, the district became known as a 'problem neighbourhood' and social hotspot ; the guest workers , who initially came predominantly from Turkey , were later joined by people from Arab countries and refugees. By the 2010s, around 15% of the district's residents were of Turkish origin and 10% of Arab origin. In mid-2021, the proportion of people with a migration background was almost 50%, coming from 155 different countries.”

In other words, the world can be found in Neukölln, and with it the imigrants, refugees, difference, and questions that seem to perplex the world. Yet, it seems to work here, with people enjoying each other’s food and cultures, sharing a square. 

And word from NYC about Teddy, an amicable friend from the tribe, gone too soon. 

Elwin wrote:

“This is the most heartbreaking message I've ever had to send. On Monday July 8th around 10:45am Teddy who stayed with us for so long finally took his last breath. He loved you all so much and his love will be the legacy we all share. Please continue to share this message of support, as we mourn together more updates will be given. Thank you and much love to you all-.”

RIP Teddy... It was just years and years and years of smiles and chuckles running into you at shows... At performances ... On my roof . At Earth Church with a smile, RIP.

“Life ain't fair and neither is death. I'm so glad that I got to know you, Teddy. You were truly authentically one-of-a-kind,” wrote Dragonfly. “Thank you for your kindness, humor and protection over the years. You were a magnificent benevolent trickster. I hope you meet my Cousin Lester and kick it in the ether. Y'all are both kindred beautiful souls gone to soon--and will definitely chop it up about music and politics over a celestial beer. My deepest condolences to your wife, family and those who knew you with more intense intimacy than my own broken heart.”

Oh Teddy ... For a while  you were everywhere, at bike rides, seen here to the right, experimental theater, Occupy, even my roof, Teddy documenting, Teddy greeting, biking, filming, greeting, Teddy everywhere now and forever. It's strange to think of all of that, all of us this community without you. RIP.

Monica, who performed with Teddy for years, felt the loss vividly, “Teo.  Tewodros Tamirat.  You brought love and laughter into my life for 17 years as one of my closest friends and I’m devastated and shocked to lose you, even thought I’ve known it was coming.  How could one prepare for the loss of someone so full of the energy of the world, who was even composing music from his death bed? Still the perfect gracious host to the overflowing guests at the hospital, surrounded by adoring friends and family.  You were one to be adored and you cheered on others around you heroically.  Everywhere I go, you appear to me, rolling up next to me on your bike so effortlessly cool in your shades and bandana heading to a protest, making guerrilla music videos or theater films together, one night we stayed up all night interviewing people about their dreams at the Rubin Museum.  roller skating at Brooklyn Bridge park pier..”

I remember those dreams and your play about it. 

Friday

 Boy our friends had a hard year. Lots of losses, a lost job here, a lost brother, partner there, a spouse; another her mind. I met with A, my friend from Italy, who I met in New York,  at Kotti.  She’d had a rough year, looking at the war in Gaza and free speech. She’d had explosion with some friends talking about the Alternative for Deutschland, Potsdam Meeting of November 2023 in which  far-right figures gathered in a Potsdam hotel to discuss a deportation for imigrants, asylum seekers, foreigners with residence permits, and "non-assimilated" German citizens. Turmoil and mass protests ensued when news of the event opened to the world. 

Andreas and company make flyers and posters and organized demos against the plan.

Meanwhile the US right has their  plans for re immigration and camps, without much more than a shrug. The world is nervous about elections. France and England turned leftward. AfD did well in European elections, but not close to a majority beyond certain regions (which is reason for concern). The US election is on everyone’s mind. The violence of all only swirling, hoverring. 

In the Paris Review, Sadie Stein writes: “On November 21, 1811, the writer Heinrich von Kleist shot his beloved, the terminally ill Henriette Vogel, and then himself, on the banks of Kleiner Wannsee. The innkeeper who housed them the night before described the couple, thirty-four and thirty-one, as cheerful and voluble; Kleist wrote in a final letter to his sister that he viewed death with “inexpressible serenity.” Although controversial, troubled, and financially unsuccessful in his day, he went on to achieve a monumental posthumous reputation and is today regarded as one of the finest writers—playwright, philosopher, and novelist—in the German canon. Vogel was herself an accomplished intellectual. Theirs is one of the most famous suicide pacts in history, but the details are hazy—some accounts say the suicide was her idea, others that she wasn’t even his first choice... Because of the nature of their deaths, Kleist and Vogel were denied church burial and were instead interred where they fell, by the lake.”

Saturday we went to the lake to pay homage. 

After the book fair, before the squat party, we went visit the site of the suicide, paying homage before a trip into magic hour light, and an evening in our old Berlin neighborhood of Prenzlauderber, and an evening at ://about blank, a community techno club… where people danced into the evening and cavorted in the garden, magic Berlin, ever alive, ever disappearing. 

Dancing and news of gunshots in Pennsilvania, violence creeping closer. 

Sunday

Thinking of Teddy and  Heinrich and Henriette, Berlin buddies, Brooklyn friends near and far.