Contrapposto 2007 backup

Issues of Historical Reconstruction
in Post United Berlin
Jordan Allison
Almost immediately after the fall of the Berlin Wall, plans to reconstruct Berlin
were underway, launching a polemical debate over the future of the country’s
capital. Since then, the urban landscape has undergone massive change, a
consequence of a city desperately trying to reclaim a past overshadowed by the
deplorable events of the twentieth century. After the Second World War, the
city’s reconstruction fell under the influence of its occupied forces that sought
to impose a new order and ideals through built form. The eradication of earlier
architecture and urban landscapes caused a ‘cultural identity crisis’, evident
today in the city’s ongoing obsession to reconstruct and reconcile its past. On
one hand, Berlin has made significant efforts to redefine itself through the
restoration of many historical landmarks and the construction of new museums and memorials. At the same time, Berlin labours to conceal its wounds, by
erasing the traces of its recent history.
The Franco-Prussian War was the last successful military campaign the
country achieved, and the event still seems to summon a collective nostalgia for
many Germans. Examples abound in the reconstruction of historic Prussian
landmarks that aim to celebrate and preserve German history. As the Palast der
Republik (fig. 1), built by the Soviets, was dismantled piece by piece, initiatives
for civic funding were underway to reconstruct the city’s former Berliner
Stadtschloss (fig. 2) to sit in its place. The Schloss dates back to the fifteenth
century, and has undergone numerous changes over the past five centuries. The
largest of these changes were made at the beginning of the eighteenth century
by Frederick III, who commissioned architects such as Jean de Bodt, Andreas
Schlüter and Eosander von Göthe, to design extensive new wings in the
Baroque style, that would stretch the Schloss’ footprint westwards towards the
opposite bank of the Spree island.1 Alterations continued into the nineteenth
century by notable architects such as Karl Frederick Schinkel, and August
Stüler, the architect responsible for the Schloss’ impressive copula built in
1845.2 The belief that history should not be erased underlies any decision to
rebuild an architectural past through the reconstruction of various monuments.
Consequently, rebuilding often becomes a process of deciding which history is
more important to preserve, as reviving one history causes another to be lost.
For Berlin to look to the future, it must first appease its past. Attempts
to do so are apparent in a landscape of inauthentic fabrications reconstructed
in hopes that they might garner the power their originals once attained.
119 120 Jordan Allison
Architectural fabrications as such deny history of its traces by imposing
selective histories upon its observer. Unfortunately, historical reconstructions
are integral to the preservation of national identity and cultural heritage,
making a strong case for the reconstruction of buildings like the Schloss.3
Without these reconstructions their absence results in a psychological adversity
far more devastating than any aesthetic loss.4 This sets the stage for debate
regarding historical reconstruction in post-unified Berlin.
I. Artificial Representation
All architecture, whether an ‘original’ or a reconstruction of an earlier monument, creates a landscape of illusion, in which the existing landscape continues
to be altered. This is visible in an architectural collective of reconstructed
monuments that aim to wield the power their originals once attained. Culture
therefore appropriates architecture as a construct whose models and imitations
may assume the power of the original.5 In this light, if a building is able to
assume the power of its original source, the same may be said for a painting or
representation of the same building. For instance, in 1994, a painted replica of
the Schloss was erected upon its former footprint, raising more attention towards
the fate of the site than ever before, and garnering much needed support for its
reconstruction.6 Moreover, the Bauakademie (fig. 3), which stood just west of the
site of the Schloss, is currently being rebuilt using the same technique – only a
corner of the façade is actually reconstructed like the original. In this case, the
importance of authenticity and age is dubious as these painted representations
seem to successfully revive the memory of the original, as if by marking its
absence.
The revival of memory through artificial reconstruction is imperative,
more so when multiple traces of a past are lost. In the aftermath of World War
II, many European cities faced a dilemma after bombings demolished much of
the urban landscape. Consider the city of Dresden, for instance, which was
largely destroyed by Russian air raids in February 1945.7 A willingness by
citizens to accept these losses is unlikely and as such, reconstruction becomes
the only alternative. Furthermore, historical documentation is never complete,
thus exact replications are difficult to achieve. What we are left with are
mediocre replications at best, many of which are constructed at the cost of
erasing the traces of a more recent history.
Immediately upon Berlin’s reunification, city officials sought to soften
the difference between the architecture that visually divided East and West
Germany. Since then, much of the differences have been eroded by recent
developments such as Potstdamer Platz, causing the traces of a once divided city
to vanish. Among the few notable traces left today, however, is the East Side
Gallery. It is the longest remaining stretch of the Berlin Wall left standing and is
Issues of Historical Reconstruction 121
located near the centre of Berlin on Mühlenstrasse in Friedrichshain. In the early
nineties, artists were invited to come and paint murals along this stretch of the
Wall, which has since been victim to weathering, graffiti, and lack of upkeep.
Many Berliners argue that the Wall needs to be restored, but restoration of the murals would only falsify the legitimacy of the artifact at hand.8 The
murals themselves are a reflection of a specific time and place, as much as the
graffiti on top of them is. The most recent graffiti often speaks to more current
issues both in Berlin and the rest of the world and is just as much a documentation of such. To cleanse the Wall and impose a selective representation would
be to deprive it of its power. If the ruins of the Acropolis were rebuilt or
repainted today their authenticity would certainly be compromised. Such an
argument applied to the issue of rebuilding the Schloss would have called for the
site to be left untouched. Despite the unfavorable modern aesthetics of the
Palast der Republik, it was unarguably an authentic structure and more of an
active part of German history in the twentieth century than anything else that
could possibly replace it. It seems unlikely that the Bundestag would have
considered leaving a steel-girder box, clad in bronze mirrored glass to decay on
its own amidst some of the city’s most notorious classical buildings. As such,
what we are left with is the illusion of a history, one that ignores the greater
part of the last century. Today, one of the only remains of the former Schloss is
the West Portal, currently fixed onto the modern glass façade of the GDR
Staatsrat building. Perhaps the West Portal should be returned to its former site
along with any other existing remains of the Schloss so that they, like the
Acropolis, are left as a testament to the ruin of a once powerful empire.
Other examples of ruins can be seen in the Berlin urban landscape.
For instance, the remnants of the Kaiser-Welhelm-Gedächtniskirche (fig. 4),
destroyed in 1943 by Allied bombs, now stand as a city landmark amidst
commercial buildings surrounding Breitscheidplatz and Kurfürstendamm. Another
ruin that has become a landmark is the portal of the Anhalter Bahnhof (fig. 5),
which remains on the site of what used to be one of Berlin’s busiest railway
stations, once surrounded by luxury hotels and lively cafés. The continual
preservation of architectural ruins would be a huge step for Berlin – one that
moves away from the contrived scripting of its past caused by projects like the
reconstruction of the Schloss. It is important however to examine the cause of
this overwhelming exigency that begs for the immediate restoration and
reconstruction of these now tainted landscapes.
II. Cultural Void and the Urban Narrative
In the aftermath of the Second World War, the destruction of civic structures
and their related artifacts resulted in cultural loss.9 Consequentially, citizens
became disorientated and their community became less defined.10 As Zainab
Bahrani argues, “Historical artifacts, works of art, and monuments are the
122 Jordan Allison
agents of memory and even a sense of self.”11 In Berlin, the destruction of
cultural property has perpetrated a cultural loss ever so apparent in the German
self-conscious. Architecture has proven to exceed the mere requirements of
function; it serves to sculpt communal identity that in turn defines each citizen.
It follows that the loss or destruction of architectural history results in a loss of
cultural identity.12 This may explain the GDR’s motive to remove the Schloss in
the first place, as this was a time when East Berlin sought to erase the traces of
the former Germany associated with the National Socialist Party. Earlier,
however, the Nazis also initiated similar tactics through the destruction of
cultural property that intended to erase the presence of the Jews, resulting in a
similar but extremely devastating type of cultural cleansing.
The effects of cultural loss pertaining to Jewish culture are best
acknowledged by Daniel Libeskind’s design for the Jewish Museum in Berlin.
The building is constructed on the concept of ‘cultural voids,’ which are then
translated into physical forms – a ‘line’ marked by empty space runs straight
through the centre of the building.13 In the acknowledgement of cultural loss,
there is no more fitting a place to construct an empty room than in a museum.
After all, museums were and still are intended to flaunt cultural goods representative and definitive of culture; thus, the omission of such goods signifies the
absence or loss of a culture. The empty Schloss site in the centre of Berlin, set
amidst countless cultural artifacts, is similar to an empty room in a museum in
that it evokes a cultural void. It is therefore plausible to suggest that cities are
like museums, and the reconstruction of their artifacts would be comparable to
putting a copy of the Mona Lisa into the Louvre.
Attempts at reconstructing cultural identity result in selective histories,
which are often constructed as ideal narratives. One example is the recent
rebuilding of Pariser Platz; however, Hitler’s plan for Germania best represents
the notion of idealized history. Berlin, which was to become Germania, was to
be radically remodeled upon two grand axes: north-south and east-west. The
streets were to be lined with government and corporate buildings, as well as
countless monuments and memorials. Major buildings along the routes were to
be constructed in the ‘Nazi-Architecture style’, which would be distinguished by
its monumental, highly stripped Neo-Classical style. The city itself becomes a
scripted narrative, similar to a museum, which also often determines the
visitors’ routes, affecting what we see and the way we see it. This is the case
with the processional street that runs east-west through the Tiergarten known as
the Strasse des 17. Juni, which becomes Unter den Linden and terminates at the site
of the former Schloss. Arguably, the Schloss is a missing link to a singular grand
narrative particular to Berlin’s history.
Schinkel’s Altes Museum (fig. 6) serves as a superb example of the
construction of urban narratives, particularly with regard to its interaction with
Issues of Historical Reconstruction 123
the former Schloss. The museum’s long stoa-like façade runs parallel to the north
end of the former Schloss, once creating a sort of urban room. The open space
between the two buildings acted as a forum from which either building could be
viewed from a distance. It is important to note, however, that architecture is not
exclusively something to be seen, but something from which to see. For
instance, the front entranceway of the Altes Museum provided a picturesque view
of the Schloss seen through the gaps between the dipteral ionic colonnade,
compelling patrons to move through the space to get a glimpse of the palace in
the distance. Since the destruction of the Schloss, these urban narratives have
been lost.
The construction of narratives representative of multiple periods in
history is a daunting task, as Berlin’s landscape is copiously haunted by a
palimpsest of histories that will inevitably be erased as one overwrites another.
Reconstruction is, therefore, a selective process that has essentially left city
planners with the burden of taking on the role of the historian. For Berlin to
retrieve its Schloss, it had to give up another monument. Obviously, selective
history in this context results in the favouring and showcasing of one historical
period over another. Rem Koolhaus, who follows the debate over the Palace
site, says, “I think that’s a painful part of it - that most historicism is realized at
the expense of history.” The removal of the (former) Parliament, he adds,
“feels kind of insanely ahistorical.”14 In some ways, its removal is comparable to
the smaller scale removal of graffiti and restoration of the painted murals that
have slowly disappeared from the East Side Gallery.
In Berlin, historical sites dating prior to the Second World War are
given far more precedence in preservation, as more current sites are less likely
to be preserved. Nonetheless, Berlin’s multi-layered history is best experienced
in its residential neighbourhoods, where the layers of history are easier to trace:
pre-war, post-war and post-unified architectural initiatives have developed
through more organic processes.15 Most conspicuous are the vacant lots,
incomplete buildings and ruins such as the Kaiser-Welhelm-Gedächtniskirche or the
Anhalter Bahnhof, which serve as reminders of the unrelenting destruction
caused by the city’s air raids that begun in November 1943. Christian Boltanski’s
Memorial entitled, “The Missing House,” shows the names and basic information of former residents that once lived where there is now an open space cut
through a residential building on Grosshamburgerstrasse. As in Libeskind’s
Museum, a historical trace is identified by a void. These traces best serve to
characterize the composite nature of Berlin today in that they are unrestrained
by selective histories, unlike the voids that have filled the site of the former
Schloss.
124 Jordan Allison
III. Demolition, Reconstruction
In January 2005, Norwegian artist Lars Ø Ramberg installed an art installation
of a one-story sign that was fixed to the front of the Palast der Republik projecting the word “doubt” in bright white neon letters.16 The installation was
intended to address the issue of uncertainty towards the future of the site, as
well as the continuing hesitancy within the German parliament to make
decisions, a condition the artist attributes to the collective German consciousness.17
With this in mind, it serves to recall all the architectural reconstructions that have surfaced along Unter den Linden from the Brandenburg Gate to
the site of the former Schloss, where plans are underway to add Schinkel’s
Bauakademie to the list of pre-war architectural monuments.18 Damaged during
the Second World War, the Bauakademie was restored until 1962 when it was
finally demolished by the GDR to make way for the future Ministry of Foreign
Affairs of East Germany.19 In 1995, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building
was demolished to make room for the reconstruction of Schinkel’s Bauakademie.
By the time the Schloss and Bauakademie are both rebuilt, the centre of Berlin will
show no trace of East Berlin’s twentieth century. One wonders if the reconstruction of pre-war Berlin enforces a denial of any mistakes Berlin has made
during the previous century. This in turn forces considerable doubt upon its
future. If the city is to have any recognition of its recent past, it must acknowledge that the history of Berlin is international in character and not simply
German. A citizen’s sense of communal identity is defined in relation to shared
culture and history, which supports having left the Palast der Republik where it
was.
On the other hand, Berlin has arguably made efforts to preserve traces
of the GDR, even despite that early Soviet occupation did not protect many
important sites, including those that bear pre-war historical significance and
serve as agents to the preservation of German identity. Had the Palast not been
placed on the site of the former Schloss, it is reasonable to believe that it would
have been spared. In antiquity, the destruction of civic property signified
triumph and victory over a defeated city, connoting destruction of the conquered culture.20 Some feel that the demolition of the Palast der Republik and the
consequent reconstruction of the former Schloss will signify Germany’s escape
from and triumph over the Soviet occupation of the Cold War.
The discouraging loss of historical landmarks has forced Berlin to redefine
itself, while it attempts to rewrite its history. The city is in a constant state of
flux, creating layers of history that hide and inevitably erase its past, making the
preservation of its historic landscapes next to impossible. One history is lost at
the expense of reviving another. The pursuit of reclaiming these landscapes
leads to historical reconstructions, which are criticized for their lack of authen-
Issues of Historical Reconstruction 125
ticity and artificial displays of ‘selective history’. And yet, as these reconstructions are integral to the preservation of national identity and cultural heritage, it
becomes extremely difficult to pick a side in debates like the reconstruction of
the Berlin Schloss.
Notes
1 Mark R. McGee, Berlin: A Visual + Historical Documentation from 1925 to the
Present (Woodstock: Overlook Press, 2002), 14.
2 Ibid.
3 Zainab Bahrani, “Iraq’s Cultural Heritage: Monuments, History, and Loss,”
Art Journal 62 (4) (Winter 2003): 11.
4 Ibid, 11.
5 Jean-Pierre Durix, Mimesis, Genres and Post-Colonial Discourse: Deconstructing
Magic Realism, (New York: Macmillian, 1998), 45.
6 Duane Phillips, “Schloss Mirror, and Schloss Reconsrtuction” in Berlin: A
guide to recent Architecture (London: Batsford, 2003), 174.
7 Anthony Clayton, “War and faith in Dresden,” History Today 47, 4 (April
1997): 6.
8 These observations are based on the author’s visit to the East Side Gallery,
(2005, 2006).
9 Bahrani, 11.
10 Ibid.
11 Ibid.
12 Ibid.
13 Studio Daniel Libeskind: Jewish Museum Berlin, Ed. Daneil Libeskind,
<http://www.daniel-libeskind.com/projects/show-all/jewish-museum-berlin/
>.
14 Geeta Dayal, “Berlin’s Indoor Mountain of Art and Protest,” New York
Times 24 Aug. 2005.
15 This observation is based on the author’s visit to Charlottenburg,
Kreuzberg, Prenzlauer Berg, and many other neighbourhoods, (2005, 2006).
16 Barry Bergdoll, “Reconstruction Doubts,” Harvard Design Magazine (Fall
2005/Winter 2006): 33.
17 Ibid, 33.
18 This observation is based on the author’s visit to Museum Island, (2005,
2006).
19 Allan Cochrane, “Making up Meanings in a Capital City: Power, Memory
and Monuments in Berlin,” (2006), 9.
20 Bahrani, 17.
126 Jordan Allison
1 Erich Honnecker, Palast der Republik, 1973-76, Berlin (photograph by the
author)
2 Berlin Schloss digital reconstruction, 2005, Berlin (photo: Association for the
Promotion of the Berlin Palace, <www.berlin-schloss.de>)
Issues of Historical Reconstruction 127
3 Karl Friedrich Schinkel, Bauakademie Reconstruction, 2005, Berlin (photograph
by the author)
4 Franz Heinrich Schwechten, Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtnis-kirche, 2005, Berlin
(photograph by the author)
128 Jordan Allison
5 Franz Heinrich Schwechten, Anhalter Bahnhof, 2005, Berlin, (photograph by
Dr. Linda Safran)
6 Karl Friedrich Schinkel, View from the Altes Museum, Berlin (photo: Snodin,
Michael. Karl Friedrich Schinkel: A Universal Man. New Haven and London:
Yale University Press, 1991.)