August Horch Museum in Zwickau extended

news
August Horch Museum
in Zwickau extended
Historic workplaces as well as historic cars are now on
show in Zwickau: the August Horch Museum has gained
an extra 500 square metres in exhibition area. It has
all been made possible by a donation from AUDI AG,
together with financial backing from the state of
Saxony and the German government. Visitors are able
to admire historic vehicles, tour the villa of company
founder August Horch and view the technology used
for building cars in Zwickau over a total floor area of
3,000 square metres. 89,000 people visited the August
Horch Museum in the first ten months alone, making
it one of the largest tourist attractions of this city in
Saxony.
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Audi design in words and pictures
Guest appearance by
Lang Lang at the Summer
Concerts in Ingolstadt
He is the new star in the firmament of classical
music: Lang Lang, Chinese pianist from Shenyang,
was already sitting at the piano at the tender age
of three. The 23-year-old Chinese musician, who
has already performed with the Berlin Philharmonic and Vienna Philharmonic as well as in New
York’s Carnegie Hall, is now one of the world’s top
pianists. In July 2005, Lang Lang played on the
Piazza of Audi Forum Ingolstadt as part of the
Summer Concerts series organised by AUDI AG.
During his visit to Ingolstadt it transpired that
Lang Lang is a keen Audi driver, though he did not
divulge whether he was ordering ”piano finish” for
the interior trim of his new Audi.
Shapes, surfaces, colours: the success of a car brand is
closely tied to the design of its vehicles. The impressive success story of “Audi design” is now told in a
recently published, opulently illustrated book. This
reference work sheds light on 40 years of automotive
design at Audi – from 1965 to the present day. Author
Othmar Wickenheiser includes numerous sketches and
models to introduce his readers to the mysteries of
creative automotive design.
The Munich-based Professor for Transportation
Design and former Audi designer vividly elucidates the
various phases of the design process: from draughtsman’s techniques of representation to prototype construction, and from the Audi 60 to the models of 2005.
The book affords a remarkable insight into the epochs
of automotive design from the past four decades, and
is a must for every Audi enthusiast!
Othmar Wickenheiser:
Audi Design,
Automobilgestaltung
von 1965 bis zur
Gegenwart (Audi
Design: Automotive
Design from 1965 to
the Present Day),
Publisher:
Nicolai Verlag,
Berlin 2005.
TV commercial:
“You’re just like your mother!”
Last February, Hollywood star Dustin Hoffman was
awarded the “Golden Camera” in the category
“Best Celebrity Commercial” for his appearance in
an A6 commercial. Ralph Weyler, AUDI AG Board
Member for Marketing and Sales, presented the
actor with the award, which is sponsored by the
German TV magazine HÖRZU. In a tribute to the
classic 1967 movie “The Graduate”, the two-times
Oscar winner this time rescues his own daughter
from the wrong man in the commercial bearing the
title “Just like your mother”. Just before she can
say “I do” at the altar, he whisks her away and the
pair drive off into the distance in his new Audi A6.
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The Authors
“The Chinese are well on their way to
beating us at our own game,” remarks
Frank Sieren. He should know: the
39-year-old WirtschaftsWoche correspondent has been living in Beijing
since 1994. The Times, London,
describes him as one of “Germany’s
top experts on China”. “Der China
Code – Wie das boomende Reich der
Mitte Deutschland verändert” (The
China Code – How the Booming
Frank Sieren
Middle Kingdom is Changing Germany) is the title of his best-selling book that appeared in 2005. In
Audi’s Annual Report he explains the ingenious system behind the
rise of the red giant. > Page 8
A taxi ride in Tokyo is something
special for Stephan Finsterbusch
(39), Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung
correspondent in the Japanese capital. For all the pulsating rhythm of
economic life of that metropolis, its
taxis are an oasis of calm. And its
drivers need to possess three rare
qualities: a superhuman sense of
direction, calmness and the unstinting readiness to read the customer’s
Stephan Finsterbusch
wishes from their eyes. “It’s not
always all that cheap, but is sometimes the only way of reaching
your destination in this megacity quickly and safely,” comments
Finsterbusch. > Page 20
Business editor Ralf Nöcker (40)
writes for the Frankfurter Allgemeine
Zeitung on management and marketing topics, the advertising industry
and management consultancy. In his
private life, father-of-two Nöcker is a
football fan whose allegiance to Fortuna Düsseldorf goes back thirty years.
The conversation with Felix Magath,
Felix von Cube and Horst Neumann
consequently not only yielded interDr. Ralf Nöcker
esting insights into the subject of
employee leadership, but also gave him reason to hope for a better
future for Fortuna. Currently enjoying only moderate success in the
third division, Magath told Nöcker at the end of their meeting that
he expected to see Fortuna back in the first division in two or three
years. Hope springs eternal. > Page 27
“The car sector serves as a model for
a number of other industries,” says
Ulrich Reitz. The 38-year-old business editor has been managing the
editorial office of the newspaper Welt
am Sonntag for six years. From his
office in Frankfurt, he reports on the
international finance and car industries. This dual task suits him: his
meetings with bankers are often
inspired by what he has gleaned from
Ulrich Reitz
talking to car managers. For Audi’s
Annual Report, he met up with the winner of the Physics Nobel Prize,
Theodor Hänsch. The two spent some time discussing the link between
research and the car industry, continuing even after the tape recorder
had been switched off. But with Hänsch turning out to be an enthusiastic amateur investor, that was hardly surprising. > Page 32
His publication, the Austrian magazine Autorevue, enjoys cult status
among readers. Thanks to the many
exquisite turns of phrase found
therein, some even regard it more as
a literary journal than a common car
magazine. Publisher Herbert Völker
himself is described by many colleagues as the “leading light of
Austrian motor journalism”. It is
widely acknowledged among motor
Herbert Völker
journalists that a story penned in
Völker’s unique style is a unmatchable. On behalf of Audi, Herbert
Völker portrays “racing animal” Tom Kristensen. > Page 38
Kai Stepp (51) started writing articles for radio and television while still
a student, as a means of financing his
studies in Law and Communication
Sciences in Munich. He then worked
as a radio reporter for ARD. It was
then that Stepp discovered his passion
for magazine journalism, initially as
Deputy Editor-in-Chief of the WirtschaftsWoche and next as Editor-inChief of Focus Money. He was subseKai Stepp
quently appointed Editor-in-Chief of
the Cologne-based business magazine Capital. The various stations
of his career enabled Kai Stepp to become well-acquainted
with those top managers who are now responsible for determining
Germany’s future as an industrial base. Among them is Herbert
Hainer, whom Kai Stepp accompanied on a business trip through
Franconia. > Page 46
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Sophisticated watches are usually
complicated objects. Perhaps that is
why they, together with cars, have
constituted an enduring journalistic
challenge for Gerd Gregor Feth
(50), who for many years has been the
Munich correspondent of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. He was
therefore only too willing to talk to
Pia von Braun, the designer of the
Audi “Square Chronograph”, about
watches and the unusual situation of
a car designer who creates lifestyle
articles. > Page 64
Although he had originally intended
to become a pastor, Hallaschka found
himself pursuing a career in journalism. Instead of baptising infants and
preaching from the pulpit, Andreas
Hallaschka (43) joined the German
magazine stern after completing his
studies and attending journalism college, then became Editor-in-Chief
first of fit FOR FUN and, in 2002, of
MERIAN. Hallaschka himself has
Andreas Hallaschka
travelled along virtually all the dream
roads that he and his team of photographers portray. France,
Australia and the Southwest of the USA are his personal favourites.
He still holds a burning ambition to travel to the island of Lampedusa: his first attempt, by Interrail at the age of 16, foundered due to
a lack of funds. > Page 72
A theologian with a penchant for
speed: Dr. Jochen Wagner (48),
tutor of the Humanities Department
at the Protestant Academy of Tutzing,
regards himself as a “homo ludens”.
This is evident at every point in the
powerful essay that describes his
“transfiguring experience” – a weekend driving a Lamborghini. An affinity for Audi is almost in his genes.
Both his parents worked for the brand
Dr. Jochen Wagner
for decades, and from the tender age
of ten Wagner used to earn himself pocket money by washing cars
at a brand dealership. For all the transcendental implications of
his profession, he also worships this radical form of the here-andnow. > Page 85
His institute is widely regarded as
the leading authority on all matters
concerning accounting, and Küting
himself is frequently referred to by
the press as the “High Priest of
Accounts”: Prof. Karlheinz Küting
(62) is Director of the German Institute of Auditors (IWP) at the University of the Saarland, Saarbrücken.
The author and publisher of several
reference works on accounting and
Prof. Karlheinz Küting
member of the Board of Examiners
for Auditors was awarded the renowned Dr. Kausch Prize by the University of St. Gallen in 2000 in acknowledgement of his work. For
Audi’s Annual Report, Küting, together with Dipl.-Kfm. Christian
Zwirner (30), research assistant at the IWP, has taken a critical look
at accounting practices in Germany: what is the hallmark of modern
communication in the capital market? Where will the current
diversity in accounting practices lead us? Questions which have
preoccupied Küting for many years – and which he has repeatedly
discussed in seminars held at companies. > Page 99
Gerd Gregor Feth
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Dream cars on dream roads
Travel broadens the mind. And few sights can be more
elegant than that of the traveller gliding across
breathtaking landscapes in an aesthetically appealing
car. The travel magazine MERIAN and Audi have teamed
up in an alliance focusing on Germany’s two biggest
pastimes. Much to the delight of the photographers
who captured the images that accompany this account.
For most of human history, travel has been anything but the stuff of
dreams. In the Middle Ages, major routes between cities were no better than today’s farm tracks. The notion of travelling for its own sake,
or of the typical Sunday outing, was inconceivable. The world was a
disc and the horizon never far away: the average person in the Middle
Ages never went more than 20 kilometres from their place of birth
during their entire lifetime. Even after the advent of the car, the notion
of travelling to far-flung places and touring around by car as the fancy
took you had simply not yet occurred to people. Less was known
about the Transamazonica than Karl May knew about the Wild West.
South America? Well yes, people knew it existed … but go there?
The earliest car journeys that I recall, in the early 1970s, were our
annual holiday trips to Neuharlingersiel, East Friesland, on the back
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seat of a bright orange Audi 100. In those days, the autobahn towards
Denmark still petered out somewhere around Hamburg. When
the tunnel under the Elbe was finally finished and the autobahn to
Denmark opened, we then started heading to our northern neighbour
for our holidays. It was like exploring a whole new, exotic world.
Car travel was still not a particularly relaxing affair in those days.
All the same, cars as such were no longer elite or exclusive objects.
Where previously they had been the preserve of company directors,
they were now something the common man, too, could own. As
early as the 1950s, it was the ultimate adventure for most Germans to
head across the Alps and drive down to Lake Garda. By the 1970s,
Culture
Dream team
Driving along the Florida Keys in the Audi Q7, tracing the Garden Route in South Africa with the A3 Sportback
or negotiating the winding Alpine Road in the S4*: a “MERIAN extra” featuring the world’s dream roads is scheduled
for publication in April 2006. Its 170 pages portray trips by car along the most breathtaking routes in the world,
spanning every continent. The travel magazine MERIAN and AUDI AG formed a “dream team” for this partnership.
The Ingolstadt-based car manufacturer supplied a selection of its models to facilitate some of the highly involved
photo shoots – dream cars on dream roads.
some had decided that following the rest of the pack across the
Brenner Pass had become too tedious. For want of a better challenge
to their car’s technology, people consciously began to explore
the smaller, steeper, more winding Alpine passes either side of it.
Driving was now officially fun – and the era of dream roads had
dawned. Tatzelwurm, here we come!
By dint of our profession, we MERIAN editors have been at the
forefront of journalism for globetrotting Germans since the very
early days. We like travelling; the world is our playground. Our
appointments are moreover rarely so tightly packed as to leave no
opportunity for exploring intriguing side roads en route to the next
destination. After all, that is also part of our job. And as our profession is by definition loquacious, it is hardly surprising that one of
those many conversations in the corridors of our editorial offices
should have spawned the plan to treat readers to a potted collection
of our hands-on knowledge of the world’s most scenic roads. Thus
arose the project of publishing a magazine about the world’s dream
roads, something that had never been done before in quite this form
in all the previous six decades of MERIAN.
Continued on page 78.
* fuel consumption figures at the end of the Annual Report
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Culture
The wild side
of Bavaria
King Maximilian II
is reputedly the first to
have travelled it by
coach. It was then elevated to the status
of a prestige project in
the 1930s. Today, Germany’s Alpine Road has
shed some of the aspirations of grandeur of
yesteryear. Maybe that
is what makes it all the
more wild and attractive, affording captivating panoramic views
of mountains, castles,
crystal-clear lakes and
picturesque farming
villages. The German
Alpine Road winds
along for 450 kilometres
from Lindau, on Lake
Constance, to Berchtesgaden near the
Austrian boarder. The
Tatzelwurm, or mountain dragon, is the
name given to the
section of the route
around the Wendelstein
that is believed to
epitomise what driving
in the Alps is all about.
And rightly so, believes
photographer Jan
Greune. “The bends are
truly impressive. And
it’s really worth making
a detour to the salt
mines in Berchtesgaden.” According to
traditional Bavarian
tales, the Tatzelwurm
is a small but fierce
mythical beast.
Greune’s children, who
accompanied him on
the photo shoot, were
only tangentially interested in all that – what
concerned them far
more was whether
they would be allowed
to go boating on the
nearby Forggensee.
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Culture
76
On the trail
of the jeunesse
dorée
Excursions through
the mild Mediterranean
air, preferably in illustrious company, have
always been de rigueur
on the Côte d´Azur. The
routes of the Grand
and Middle Corniches,
winding roads above
Cannes and Nice,
seem to epitomise that
lifestyle. For over
100 years, they have
been snaking their
way between rocky
outcrops, past the
beaches and luxury
villas of the rich and
famous. Bizarre rock
formations line the way,
and there are vistas
across white sandy
bays out over the azure
blue sea. And who
knows, you could well
cross paths with one
of the many resident
celebrities on their way
to the nearest exclusive
seaside resort. Photographer Arthur Selbach
concentrated on the
Middle Corniche, with
its picturesque villages.
Unlike the Lower
Corniche, which runs
directly along the
shoreline, this road is
relatively quiet. Just
a few minutes away
from the hustle and
bustle of the coast, the
tranquil villages have
managed to hold on
to the charm of times
past. Selbach’s verdict:
“There can be no
doubting its credentials as a dream road.
And it was fabulous to
be able to drive along
in such a beautiful
car with its top down.”
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Even for us journalists, who tend to
adopt a rather carefree attitude to such
matters as finances, it was obvious that
we would need a partner who shared
both our passion for driving and our
global outlook. One of my staff then
came across the Audi brochure “25 years
of quattro”: dream cars on dream roads.
From that moment on, we knew who our
ideal partner was.
There ensued two trips to Ingolstadt,
a joint brainstorming session with members of Audi’s Marketing and Press
departments, and a presentation. We had
found our partner. Dream cars on dream
roads began to take shape.
Concept work on the special edition
which was to bear the title “Traumstrassen” (“Dream Roads”) started in
summer 2005. Our plethora of ideas and
suggestions had to be condensed into a
publication 170 pages long, obliging us to take a more critical look at the routes being proposed. Kuala
Lumpur to Singapore? Tremendous by rail, but rather dull by car. The Karakoram Highway in Pakistan?
Too dangerous after the recent earthquake. Likewise the Silk Road. The bridge over Lake Ponchartrain?
Destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. Finally, we had to ask ourselves such questions as whether it was justifiable
to ship an Audi A8 out to Vietnam. Or whether a Audi Q7 were already available at that early stage.
Thus it was that we arrived at a final list of not quite a dozen stories. Perhaps surprisingly, the
Tatzelwurm – in other words the German Alpine Road – and the Corniche above Nice were chosen in
preference to a number of more exotic contenders – a clear victory for the dream roads of the 1950s! Plus
South Africa’s Garden Route, of course and the Panamericana. An absolute “must”.
Audi’s task was to consider which car we were to drive along which route. The Audi Q7 just had to
feature in New York – an important vehicle for the American market. But wait – surely it would be more
at home on the highway to Key West? The A6 Avant could then do New York. And what about shooting in
the Florida Keys? By December 2005, the task of clearing up after Hurricane Wilma was still not sufficiently advanced for us to be sure that it would actually be possible to shoot the Audi Q7 there … A real
threat to our deadline with the printers at the end of February.
Meanwhile MERIAN’s picture editors had begun to sift through examples of work from photographers
all over the world. Our first choice for South Africa: Petrus Cornelius Jacobus Oberholzer, or Obie for
short. A South African through and through, Professor of Photography at the University of Grahamstown
and stylistic doyen for many young African photographers.
For him, the commission to shoot the Garden Route along the south coast between Cape Town and
Port Elizabeth was a home fixture. He owns a beautiful house on the beach there, with a legendary wine
cellar that old friends from Germany (including MERIAN) would willingly drink empty. Obie returned
from his tour in the A3 Sportback utterly thrilled: “Think of me if you ever want to do another feature on
such an adventurous, dangerous and extraordinary African route as the Garden Route. By the way, you’re
not invited to my beach house in Nature’s Valley in December. I’ve already got three Germans coming.
That’s plenty. Otherwise I’d have a house full of people wearing sandals with socks.”
Jan Greune, too, did not have far to travel to shoot his route with the S4 – he lives in Münsing on Lake
Starnberg, just 20 kilometres from the Alpine Road. It’s like home-from-home for him. And still a dream
road that he often drives along for sheer pleasure. He knows the stretch between Königssee and the Allgäu
particularly well.
On this mission, he struck it lucky at Königssee, his visit coinciding with the cattle being driven down
from the mountain pastures in the autumn. As the cows are brought down from the mountains, they have to
be transported across the lake on a pontoon ferry because there are no roads or tracks. This was a particularly
memorable experience for Greune, even though the light was not ideal for shooting photos. There are few
places he would rather live: “I feel a close bond with nature whenever I look at the red dawn sky over the
mountains, or the fresh snow on their peaks. I feel tremendously privileged to be able to work and live here.”
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The majestic
Pacific road
“California 1”, as
Highway Number One
is also known, has
more than earned its
legendary reputation:
palm-fringed beaches,
breathtaking desert
scenery, majestic granite
crags and captivating
towns such as Carmel
and Santa Barbara are
dotted along the route
that links San Francisco
and Los Angeles.
The most memorable
features to the north
end of the route are
above all the thick forests of huge redwood
trees, spectacular cliffs
south of San Francisco
and breathtaking views
over the Pacific. No
more than a two-lane
highway in places,
the road winds its way
across deep canyons
via successions of
hairpin bends. A drive
along the Big Sur Coast
is an incomparable
experience: the route
between San Simeon
and Monterey is truly
spectacular – an
Eldorado for all who
can never have their fill
of beautiful scenery.
Klaus Bossemeyer,
who photographed the
famous bridge at
Big Sur, was nevertheless almost driven to
despair. He had to wait
for four days for a gap
to appear in the thick
blanket of fog – finally
allowing him to press
the shutter.
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Culture
Big Apple’s
Boulevard
Broadway stretches
for 33 kilometres
through Manhattan. It
presents a constantly
changing face to the
world: New York’s most
famous street ranges
from the chic to the
bustling and businesslike. The Theater District
in Midtown is home
to the stretch that most
people associate with
the name Broadway.
West of Times Square
are the glittering palaces
that host Broadway’s
musicals, as well as
more than 80 theatre
frontages, interspersed
with everything from
fast food outlets to elegant buildings from
the turn of the last century. The city that never
sleeps – Times Square
is the place that New
Yorkers have in mind
when they recall Sinatra’s famous line. The
neon signs and futuristic advertising banners
flash day and night, their
glare enough to send
the senses into overload.
After its golden age in
the 1920s and 30s, the
Theater District experienced a steady decline
until this quarter was in
the grip of drug dealers
and other dubious
characters by the end
of the 1980s. Today, the
erstwhile no-go area
has received a new lease
of life and many of the
big chain stores have
reconquered the
territory. Photographer
Johannes Kroemer now
finds the area almost
too touristy: “Sure, it’s
impressive – but it’s now
almost like Las Vegas.”
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In the midst of the Garden of Eden
South Africa’s Garden Route is a feast for the eyes. It extends over 750 kilometres from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth.
The charm of this route stems above all from its contrasts: whereas one side is bordered by rugged, shimmering purple
mountain chains, the other is edged by inviting sandy beaches and stretches of rocky coastline. Deep gorges and
lagoons, carved out by tidal watercourses, are as much a feature of this route as perpetually green rainforests. The section of the route between Mossel Bay and the mouth of Storms River in the Tsitsikamma National Park is considered to
be the most interesting. Overwhelmed with excitement upon returning from his tour, photographer Obie Oberholzer
exclaimed: “Hey, that was one wild experience!” The region’s name actually dates back to the Voortrekkers, or pioneers,
who settled here in the 18th century: they deemed this fertile land worthy of description as a Garden of Eden on earth.
His colleague Arthur Selbach from Hamburg, an expert in
lighting moods, explored the Côte d’Azur in the A4 Cabriolet. An
enviable task! “I actually know the area around Nice like the back of
my hand. When I was still a fashion photographer, I would often
come here with the models because you get such special, velvetysoft light in the South of France. But I’d never yet done a story about
the Corniche,” says Selbach. He truly relished hopping between the
three routes of the Corniche: “You keep coming across expansive,
craggy sections affording fantastic views over the Côte d’Azur’s hinterland and the Mediterranean. I was captivated.”
The sights offering themselves up to the viewfinder of a photographer on the other side of the Atlantic could not have been in
greater contrast. Johannes Kroemer, who emigrated from the
Thuringian town of Suhl to New York twelve years ago, works there
as a reportage photographer for American and German media. This
was nevertheless his first commission to shoot Broadway. His distinct
aversion to Times Square at first made the project with the Audi A6
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Avant difficult for him: “All those lights and neon signs have connotations of ripping off the tourists. I don’t really like the atmosphere
these days – it now looks like a clone of L.A. And there’s barely a
thing you’re allowed to photograph without the permission of the
many chain stores’ PR departments.” He much prefers Broadway
around where it joins 20th Street, towards Chelsea. The Photo
District with all its labs, galleries and photographic stores is his
stamping ground: “I often need to go there anyway as part of my job.
But I like it, there are still loads of small cafés and restaurants.”
While Obie Oberholzer, Jan Greune, Arthur Selbach and
Johannes Greumer were still out and about, we were busy collating
and sorting the best pictures at our Hamburg headquarters so that
our graphic designers could present them in a form that told its own
story. This took a few weeks. We wanted to publish the most attractive photos, and the most revealing ones. And we wanted to evoke a
clear sense of the fun and enjoyment that our photographers had
experienced en route. The text editors thus had the task of obtaining
Culture
the key information on the selected dream roads from correspondents all over the world. The subjects had all been distributed to
the various authors, whose accounts gradually began to trickle in by
e-mail. Everything was then given its final shape – ultimately a routine
affair, however fascinating the subject.
The hardest job ultimately fell to the photographer Klaus Bossemeyer, from Münster. He was to supply a single picture that epitomised the entire subject of dream roads. We had already chosen the
venue: Highway Number One in California, the famous bridge at Big
Sur. A black A8 saloon pictured in the Californian afternoon sun. All
fine in theory. Except that we had not reckoned with the coastal fog.
“Fortunately, Audi of America had arranged a great chap by the
name of Wolf Sommer to be my driver. A Berliner through and
through, who certainly lived up to his name – which of course means
‘summer’ in English. He was the epitome of cheerfulness, which
proved very fortuitous, as things turned out.” Because Bossemeyer
had four days earmarked for that one, vital photo of the A8 on the
legendary bridge at Big Sur in California. The only problem was that,
three and a half days into the time allocated, the coastal fog had still
not cleared. “I think I would have gone crazy had it not been for
Wolf Sommer. Dream road? You must be joking – it was an absolute
nightmare!” Then suddenly, around lunchtime on the last day, the
fog lifted. The photographer had half an hour of perfect light conditions. And then, within the space of five minutes, the fog rolled back
in and everything was shrouded in mist again. “I couldn’t help thinking about what Mark Twain once said: ‘The coldest winter I ever
spent was a summer in San Francisco’…”. Bossemeyer was infinitely
grateful to his driver for the latter’s patience and good spirits. It was
only once their mission had been accomplished that the pair realised
they had been speaking English to each other the whole time.
Finally, at the end of the four-day shoot, the weather god had
smiled on them, and they had that one, key photo in the can. The
nightmare was over, and the “dream roads” project had a happy
ending. | Andreas Hallaschka | Pictures: MERIAN issue “Traumstrassen der Welt”
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Music for the soul
Big break for a newcomer
Carla conquers hearts
Just a year ago, Carla Vallet was a talented but still relatively
unknown singer. An attractive young talent with a big soul
voice who toured small clubs all over the world. Until, that is,
she was spotted in London by German music producer Leslie
Mandoki. Mandoki had been commissioned by Audi “to write
an exceptional song for an exceptional car”, as he puts it: the
song for the Audi Q7, the first sports utility vehicle from Audi.
“Streets of Tomorrow” had actually already been composed –
he merely needed a face and a voice for the song. And then
Mandoki crossed paths with Carla Vallet: “The moment I
heard her, her voice touched me in a very special way,” he
recalls. “I knew that I need look no further.”
His counterparts at Audi wholeheartedly endorsed his
choice. Carla travelled to Germany, where the song was to be
produced, recorded “Streets of Tomorrow” at Tutzing’s Parkstudios, and handled the live premiere on September 12, 2005
at the Frankfurt Motor Show with style. Her diary has been
filled with promotional dates ever since. She has been serenading the streets of tomorrow in Tokyo, Los Angeles and Dubai,
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and has travelled to the Detroit Motor Show as Audi’s “house
singer”, always in the company of the Audi Q7. Carla and the
Audi Q7 have even appeared before an audience of millions in
“Xiang tiaozhan ma?”, the Chinese version of “You Bet?”. All
this travelling between cultures comes as second nature to the
28-year-old: her mother is a New York gospel singer, and her
father a French jazz pianist; Carla herself has spent many years
moving between Paris, New York, London and Tokyo.
What makes the young singer such a good match for the
Audi Q7? “She exudes fresh vitality, and her charisma and
presence are just perfect,” explains Ralph Weyler, Board
Member for Marketing and Sales. The song, too, perfectly
reflects Audi’s values. “To lead and not to follow” say the lyrics
– Audi shows the way, rather than latching onto trends set
by others. The combination of Carla Vallet and the Audi Q7
also supplies fitting proof that a new model and a music star
can be promoted in the same breath: a real innovation in cross
marketing.
Culture
Lamb
8000
The appeal of beauty in motion:
A test report in
10 0 0 . . . . . . 2 0 0 0 . . . . . . 3 0 0 0 . . . . . . 4 0 0 0 . . . . . . 5 0 0 0 . . . . . . 6 0 0 0 . . . . . . 7 0 0 0 . . . . . .
revs
Why are people so fascinated by motion, technology and
cars? How do we explain our children’s obsession with toy
cars? Is mobility a basic need, like eating, drinking or
sleeping? What is the “right” way to handle our urge to be
mobile? Such questions cannot be answered with simple
catch-phrases.
But any company that strives to comprehend the fundamentals of its business and enjoy lasting success will
have to tackle this issue – particularly when we are talking
about such an iconic brand as Lamborghini. We asked
Dr. Jochen Wagner – philosopher, pastor and car and
motorbike enthusiast – to reflect on these questions of
what gives the car such appeal. The outcome of his
musings reads more like a manifesto for mobility than a
set of clear-cut answers.
Inspiring literary insights put to paper after test-driving
a Lamborghini Gallardo* in Germany and Italy. Unlike conventional test reports, we are interested less in the car’s performance than in what happens to the driver and to his faculties of perception when a Lamborghini is brought into the
equation: an expression of the inexpressible. Or, as Wagner
says: “Fasten your seat belt, forget everything you ever
knew about cars, and let the words speak for themselves.”
* fuel consumption figures at the end of the Annual Report
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Culture
borghini
For Jochen Wagner, a Lamborghini is far more than simply a fast car: “You literally need to take hold of the brand with the bull in order to feel
what it is truly all about,” he declares. “Of course, it's even better to explore it by driving it.”
Transfiguration
Ideas take on a tangible shape. Man, technology, nature – Lamborghini
makes sensuality emancipatory. The internal combustion engine has
been giving the world mobility for over 100 years. Distant is transformed into near, leisurely into swift, divided into united. And now,
standing before me in all its splendour, a Lamborghini – straight out
of the card game I had as a child. The stuff that dreams are made of.
Garage:
“Start with an earthquake,
then rev it up”.
Behold, touch, nestle. More than being a mere car, a Lamborghini is
the embodiment of a feeling. As a mechanical sculpture, it zooms
you in on its details then zaps you back out to the compact finish.
It blinks back at you in unconscious reflection. I yearn for power,
elegance, speed and dexterity. It reconciles reason with instinct, the
sensuous craving for substance with the rational desire for form: man
only becomes whole through leisure, and there can only be leisure
where man is whole.
3000 rpm:
Modem of driving experiences
Uti et frui, use and enjoy. Just as the shell traces the perfect body, the
engine intensifies the urge for movement. The V10 and V12 are like
amplifiers for exploring a realm of mobility. The chassis loves sporty
manoeuvres. Even aggressive stops coax a mountain-top experience
out of the brakes. Without any pussyfooting around. On Pirellis,
every extreme manoeuvre etches itself on the soul. The vehicle
becomes a companion, a siren of pleasure and danger. Excitement
focuses the mind, acceleration calms, driving fashions composure
out of distraction. To worship the goddess Velocità is to meditate.
4000 rpm:
No pleasure without effort
It takes four Ps – person, process, product, press – to apply horsepower creatively in transcribing the mechanical alphabet. Invoking
the unprecedented. The image of a bullet springs to mind, its spherical shape an archetypal image of wholeness. Body and machine
coalesce symbolically into a responsive rocket.
2000 rpm:
Form meets matter
5000 rpm:
Out-of-body experience
Every form delivers a pledge. The Gallardo and Murciélago radiate a
gentle neomania. Genuinely new creations that satisfy a primeval
craving. The design studio at Sant’Agata makes the sacred profane:
perfected beauty. It consoles us. A Lamborghini is like a metal scab
on the wound that we humans are, being imperfect. It holds more
appeal when in action than as a hermetically-preserved museum
piece. Venerate it? No. Use it, and rejoice. Eschew the command
“Do not touch”, and let passion for this machine unfurl.
Speed, style, sound – it comes down to mere thousandths of a
second. From 0 to 100, leave everything finite behind, embrace the
speedometer and rev counter. A Lamborghini teaches response: surrender no leeway, no window of opportunity. I accelerate early and
brake late, savouring the absoluteness of the present: live rather than
re-live, make rather than re-make. Grip plus drive = motion plus
emotion. The situation is the question, the movement the answer.
Here, knowledge is ability. Instead of books, you read tarmac, radii,
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The urge for movement and speed is very important to the theologian and philosopher – it is his “passion for all things mechanical”.
He usually satisfies this hunger by playing football with his son or riding fast Italian motorbikes.
Or, if the opportunity presents itself, by driving the Gallardo.
vertices and braking points. Driving is motorised potential. Feet on
the pedals, fingers on the shift paddles, hands on the steering wheel:
in this mobile rhythm, the self now resides somewhere outside my
head.
6000 rpm:
Instinct and grace
The fact remains: we are rational, reasonable creatures. Fantastic
harbingers of power in red, yellow, orange or black provide a breath
of air hovering above the ground, a utopia on four wheels. Beast-like
in demeanour, divine in appearance. Ecology and driving fun are
still unreconciled. But what outlet is there for that insatiable restlessness of not being able to abide within your own four walls? We
shield the fragile body inside a mobile shell. In my daydream I yearn
for Icarus to escape his fateful plunge. The bull on the emblem
embodies instinct and grace. Riders on the storm.
7000 rpm:
Live/love differently
We mobilised people often live as if in a protective case. A
Lamborghini lures us out of it. Restraint is laudable, but expression
is better. Roads provide a stage for feedback. You can share passion,
if not ownership. Arc, line, arrow – sports cars are the antithesis of
a sheltered existence. Too infused with life to be imprisoned in a
showcase, the patina of fingerprints and road dust ennobles them.
Every fanomenon thrives on access. Our generation of PC kids has
yet to discover the lure of the machine. Like every passion, it too is
engendered by sensuousness. “If you drive, you’re not kept waiting,”
said Steve McQueen: born to perform.
8000 rpm:
Top form
Fortuna, Fama, Occasione, Bellezza, Accelerazione: these are
the loops of desire. One mobile object mirrored in another. A
Lamborghini burning its escape into the tarmac, as the true meaning
of active living. The meaning of life is in how you move. We kinaesthetic sympathisers need our little paradises. All physio- and psychomechanical intuition strives for top form. Wherever Lamborghini is,
that is the pinnacle. “Wicked,” says a boy to his dad. “What?”
comes the reply. “Cool,” explains the lad, because “cool” is the soulmate of “wicked”.
Arena:
Burning with enthusiasm
Lamborghini is authentic poetry: beautiful to behold, wholesome to
bestow, authentic to recite. Like a rollin’ stone, this orchestrated
freedom of movement becomes a form of confession. “Make the
most of every moment, because the whole is beyond your grasp.”
Thus the potlatch introduces the bliss of childhood sand games into
the arena of mobile exertion. With a Lamborghini, you remain permanently in touch with the key to all being: dynamics, vortex, structure, figure, chaos and poise, all at speed. Live for the “spettacolo”,
reflect on its audacity. | Jochen Wagner
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Culture
Donna Leon
Passionate Language
© Regine Mosimann,
Diogenes Verlag AG
Works (selection):
Venetian Finale
Vendetta
Latin Lover
Doctored Evidence
Uniform Justice
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One of the most successful authors on the German and
European book market is an American-born Professor
of English Literature now living in Europe. For most of
her life, the notion of writing a book never even crossed
her mind. She left New Jersey at the age of 23 and
taught English literature and language for many years,
during which time she acquired an in-depth knowledge
of Iran, China, Saudi Arabia and other countries. The
most important relationship in her life? Language. “I am
a workaholic when it comes to language and know no
difference, make no distinction, between my emotional
life and my job,” says Donna Leon. After moving from
place to place for many years, she found a second home
in Venice, though Leon herself would probably object:
“You can only have one home!”.
Donna Leon has a different lifestyle to most Americans, Italians or quite simply other people. She admits to
being an atypical consumer. Fashion, mobile phones and
status symbols leave her cold.
Being mobile, on the other hand, has always played
an important role in her life and she once even quit a
job in order to be able to attend the opera at Milan’s La
Scala. Which brings us to one of Donna Leon’s particular
passions: opera. She wrote her first novel at the age
of 50, after visiting a public rehearsal at Venice’s operahouse La Fenice together with friends – they found
themselves concocting a story about how an unpopular
conductor might be bumped off in his dressing-room.
Thus was born the first of an astonishingly successful
series of detective novels …
By way of a finger exercise, many years ago she composed an ironic dialogue between an American car buyer
and a sales executive. She parodied technical parlance
by getting her protagonist to slip “Turboduesendrehverspritzer” into the conversation – as ludicrous a term
in German as it is in English. Now, specially for Audi’s
Annual Report 2005, Donna Leon has penned an essay
on the role of movement and mobility in novels.
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Motion
People move. Characters move. Life is filled with motion, and novels are filled with descriptions of that motion. Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? In real life, as we sit in a streetside
café and watch people walk past, we see them move, overhear a snatch of conversation,
watch them stop to emphasize a remark. Then off they go and we forget about them and go
back to our coffee.
But characters in a novel, that’s a different thing. They walk by as the narrator sits at that
same table, and it becomes the writer’s job to make that event register on the reader. In a
crime novel, the writer must move the villain to the place where he will commit his crime,
and the good guy has to be moved around until he discovers who the villain is. But most of
the motion that is described in a crime novel, indeed, in any novel, is relatively inconsequential. Characters go to sleep, get up, go to work, eat dinner, drink coffee, talk to friends, go
back home. Readers follow along, and just as when we lose patience with a tedious narrator,
we grow bored if a writer describes purposeless events.
Thucydides said that stories happen to the people who can tell them; similarly, we are
interested in the movements described in a novel to the degree that the writer makes them
so meaningful that every event advances, however minimally, the reader’s understanding of
events or character.
I am not suggesting that every untied shoelace must cause a fall and every letter contain
a death threat or a confession. Perhaps an example would help. A woman trips and is helped
to her feet. In real life, the scene might stop there, with the woman safely on her feet and
walking away after saying thank you.
In a novel, however, the scene opens endless possibilities both for plot advancement and
for character revelation. A man helps her to her feet and offers her a coffee: three months
later they’re married. Six months later she’s dead and he inherits the lot. Or the narrator
grudgingly helps her to her feet, thinking that if she had had the sense to wear
flat shoes, she would not have fallen and caused him to worry that he’s hurt his back in bending down to help her. Or he watches another man help her to her feet and feels anger – or
envy – as the helper runs his hand across her hip and thigh as he helps her to her feet. Or the
woman either resents or enjoys the man’s treatment.
The writer here is behaving like the Romanian on the bridge who waves his hands over
the three walnut shells on the portable table, under one of which there is a pebble. Keep
your eye on THIS, while I am busy with THAT. Even if the woman disappears from the book,
the business of the book has been advanced because the reader now has another piece of
information, either about the woman, the man who helped her to her feet, or the man who
saw him do it. Or all of them.
This incremental information moves the plot forward because it advances the reader’s
understanding of why or how a character acts. Just as easily, however, the reader is being
prepared to respond with surprise when the character does something not at all in accord
with what he has previously been revealed to be: the Romanian lifts the walnut shell, and the
pebble’s not there.
Speech, too, creates motion, for the revelation of character that it causes will both enrich
the reader’s understanding and advance the motion of the plot. In life as in fiction, it is the
most common form of revelation. I once heard a man explain that, after his wife had been in
labor for seventeen hours with their first child, he was “tired of listening to her complain.”
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(Because my mother taught me the rudiments of polite behavior, I resisted the impulse to
express the hope that the woman would have less trouble finding a good divorce lawyer.)
Or think of someone who remarks that another person got what they deserved. His neighbor’s gay son got AIDS? Mother Theresa got the Nobel Peace Prize? Oh, my, what different
souls these remarks reveal.
In real life, most conversation doesn’t lead anywhere; most of it has the shelf life of
overripe figs. But in a novel, the writer has the obligation to select those conversations which
contain some nugget of information or revelation.
One example of the force a single remark can convey occurs in Henry James’ The Portrait
of a Lady. Madame Merle, a woman with a past, has helped manipulate the heroine, Isabel
Archer, into a marriage with a man so vile that he will destroy her every hope of happiness.
Late in the novel, she reluctantly accepts the fact that she will not profit from Isabel’s
destruction and exclaims, “Have I been so vile all for nothing?” One of the admirable qualities in the novels of Henry James is his characters’ habit of always remaining fully clothed,
but Madame Merle, had she removed all of her clothing, could not have revealed herself as
fully as with this one remark.
The spoiled, sometimes aristocratic and often wealthy women of Jane Austen’s novels
compete with one another to reveal their arid hearts. My reader’s heart, however, has always
been in thrall to Pride and Prejudice’s Lady Catherine De Bourgh. She has but to open her
mouth to reveal her head-spinning arrogance.
The great novels are filled with examples of physical motion used to express more
than the process of getting from here to there. Austen’s Lizzie Bennett rushes on foot to her
sister’s bedside, careless of how she arrives, so long as it is by the quickest route. Rash,
impetuous, she has no hesitation at “jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with
impatient activity,” after which she arrives at the home of the Bingleys, “with weary ancles,
dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.” Austen then uses her disordered state as a mirror in which to reflect the other characters. The women are shocked by
such behavior, one of the men can think only of his breakfast, but Mr. Darcy is struck by “the
brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion”.
Or think of Vronsky’s fall from his racehorse, when Anna Karenina’s failure to suppress
her terror at his danger makes public their love to the people around her. Examples come
crowing in, don’t they? Emma Bovary’s nighttime carriage ride through the streets of Rouen,
Marlowe’s trip upriver into the Heart of Darkness, Captain Ahab’s pursuit of the White
Whale. In pursuit of their own white whales, writers cast their characters into motion,
drawing us, the readers, in their wake.
In the end, if the novel is to succeed, the reader must be moved to care deeply about the
fate of these characters. They need not be good or virtuous people: Captain Ahab, Becky
Sharp, or Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley are strangers to virtue. Nor must they triumph, just as
those three characters do not triumph. But they must be so completely and convincingly
drawn that they move in the reader’s mind from being characters in a book to people who
are as vibrant as people in real life. Emily Dickinson wrote, “Love is like life, merely longer.”
In the hands of the great novelists, characters are like real people, merely realer.
| © Donna Leon and Diogenes Verlag.
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Culture
Paulo Coelho
The Traveller
He has been a scriptwriter, lyricist and publisher
of an underground magazine. As a youth he spent
a short time as a patient in a clinic for nervous diseases, and later in life was the Director of Polygram
and CBS Brazil. He has even taught acting. And
toughed it out in Brazilian military prisons. Paulo
Coelho, one of the most influential literary figures
around today, is renowned for many things. Why
does he now feature in Audi’s Annual Report?
Because he, more than scarcely any other author,
can translate the feeling of movement and mobility
into language.
He has always been a great traveller, having
crossed whole continents – in fact, it was during
precisely one such time of movement, on his pilgrimage along the way of St. James to Santiago de
Compostela, in Spain, that he found the inspiration
to write. As the member of an ancient Spanish
order he learned to explore his inner self through
travel. He has remained faithful to the motif of the
journey, because it crops up repeatedly in his
works. His heroes are on a journey of exploration to
find themselves, seek love or discover the meaning
of life. Wherever they are headed, they are always
in motion: for Coelho, the journey is an end in itself;
life is one big pilgrimage.
He experiences no aversion for the world of
business. “The business world is not the work of
the devil. I am convinced that dialogue with it is
helpful and effective,” he once opined. His contribution to this Audi Annual Report: a tale of movement,
of course.
Born in 1947 in Rio de Janeiro,
he first studied law, then entered the
music industry. He has been a
writer since 1987. Coelho lives with
his wife Christina in Rio de Janeiro.
Works (selection):
Veronica Decides to Die
The Alchemist
The Devil and Miss Prym
Eleven Minutes
The Zahir
Coelho’s works have been translated
into 56 languages to date, including
Persian and Japanese. His biggest
success alone, “The Alchemist”, has
already sold 27 million copies.
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Culture
Always on the move
Paulo Coelho
I know that a storm is coming because I can look far into the distance and see what is happening on the horizon. Of course, the light helps –
the sun is setting, and that always emphasises the shapes of the clouds. I can see flickers of lightning too.
There is not a sound to be heard. The wind is blowing neither more nor less strongly than before, but I know there is going to be a storm
because I am used to studying the horizon.
I park my car. There is nothing more exciting or more terrifying than watching a storm approach. My first thought is to seek shelter, but
that could prove dangerous. A shelter can turn out to be a trap – soon the wind will start to blow and will be strong enough to tear off roof tiles,
break branches and bring down electricity lines.
I remember an old friend of mine who lived in Normandy as a child and witnessed the Allied landing in Nazi-occupied France. I’ll never
forget his words:
“I woke up, and the horizon was full of warships. On the beach beside my house, the German soldiers were watching the same scene, but
what terrified me most was the silence. The total silence that precedes a life-or-death struggle.”
It is that same silence which surrounds me now and which is gradually being replaced by the sound – very soft – of the breeze in the
maizefields around me. The atmospheric pressure is changing. The storm is getting closer and closer, and the silence is beginning to give way
to the gentle rustling of leaves.
I have witnessed many storms in my life. Most storms have taken me by surprise, and so I’ve had to learn – and very quickly too – to look
farther off, to understand that I cannot control the weather, to practise the art of patience, and to respect nature’s fury. Things do not always
happen the way I would have wanted, and it’s best that I get used to that.
I look at my car, parked about a hundred metres from where I’m standing. Yes, I could go over to it and drive to the abbey where I’m staying, but I know that rain, when it returns to earth, brings with it everything else that is up there in the heavens – and perhaps I need those
blessings now. Despite my fear, I know that, however bad the storm, at some point it will pass.
The wind has begun to blow harder. I am in open countryside and there are trees on the horizon which, at least in theory, will attract the lightning. My skin is waterproof, even if my clothes get soaked. So it is best simply to enjoy what I’m seeing rather than go racing off in search of safety.
Another half hour passes. My grandfather, who was an engineer, liked to teach me the laws of physics while we were out having fun
together: ‘After a lightning flash, count the seconds before the next peal of thunder and multiply by 340 metres, which is the speed of sound.
That way, you’ll always know how far off the thunder is.’ A little complicated, perhaps, but I’ve been doing that calculation since I was a child,
and I know that, right now, this storm is two kilometres away.
There is still enough light for me to be able to see the shape of the clouds; they are the sort pilots refer to as Cb – cumulonimbus. These are
shaped like anvils, as if a blacksmith were hammering the skies, forging swords for furious gods, who must, at this moment, be immediately
over the little village of Melk.
I can see the storm approaching. As with any storm, it brings with it destruction, but it also waters the fields, and with the rain falls the
wisdom of the heavens. As with any storm, it will pass. The more violent the storm, the more quickly it will pass.
I have, thank God, learned to face storms. The first raindrops fall and suddenly it is a deluge. I look up at the sky, hearing the thunder
and lightning all around me, and allow myself to become completely drenched. How good it is not to be afraid of the rain! How delicious to
drink the water that falls from the clouds, to let myself be washed clean by nature, purified by the wind, to hear the music of the leaves being
buffeted this way and that!
I remain like this for almost half an hour, and I could wait out the rest of the storm, except that one of the priests at the abbey where I am
staying has invited me to supper. I get into my car and drive slowly back. I can see the giant outline of the buildings on top of the hill. I head
straight for the cloister, where I am staying this weekend – outside, the lightning, rain and wind continue.
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I walk along the deserted corridors of the abbey, whose earliest records date from the eleventh century. I take a bath, make my bed, and go
downstairs to meet Father Martin and Abbot Burkhard. Other friends are waiting for me too and, we should all, in principle, be going straight
to the refectory. Father Martin, however, has other ideas and leads us instead through a kind of labyrinth.
“We’re going to a place very few people know about.”
We all excitedly follow him down into the subterranean depths of this ancient building. An equally ancient door swings open and we find
ourselves in a vast room, where I see a world that is in marked contrast to the austerity of the floors above. It contains almost everything that
has been accumulated over the centuries and which Father Martin refuses to throw away. Antiquated typewriters, skis, helmets from the
Second World War, old tools, out-of-print books, and bottles of wine. Dozens, no, hundreds of dusty bottles of wine, from amongst which, as
supper progresses, Abbot Burkhard selects the best ones and gives them to us to taste. I consider Abbot Burkhard one of my spiritual mentors,
although we have never exchanged more than a couple of sentences (he speaks only German). His eyes brim with kindness and his smile
reveals immense compassion. I remember that once he had to introduce me at a conference and, to everyone’s horror, chose a quotation from
my book Eleven Minutes (which is about sex and prostitution).
While I eat, I am very aware that I am living through a unique moment in a unique place. And as if touched by a sudden revelation, I realise
that although all these things in the abbey cellars have been stored away, they nevertheless still make sense; they may be part of the past, but
they also complete the story of the present.
And I ask myself if there is anything in my past that has been stored away, but is no longer of any use to me.
My experiences form part of my everyday life, they are not locked away in a cellar, but continue actively to help me. So, to speak of my
experiences as having been stored away and useless would be wrong, but what is the right answer?
My mistakes.
Yes. Looking around at the cellar in Melk Abbey and realising that one should not necessarily discard everything for which one has no
further use, I understand that my mistakes are stored away in the cellar of my soul; once, they helped me to find the path, but once I was aware
of them as mistakes, they became redundant. And yet they still need to accompany me, so that I never forget that, because of them, I slipped
and fell and almost lacked the strength to get up again.
Although my mistakes have taught me all that I needed to learn from them, it’s important that they should remain in the cellar of my soul.
That way, when, from time to time, I go down there in search of the wine of wisdom, I can look at them and accept that they are also part
of my story, that they form part of the foundations of the person I am today and that I need to carry them with me, however neatly stored away
(or resolved) they might be.
Before going to sleep, with the storm still raging outside, I pick up a text that is lying on the bedside table in my cell:
“When I am moving, certain things appear blurred, but I am following a path which leads me to a knowledge of the world and of myself,
and, sometimes, I discover a new goal. Movement makes me uneasy, but that same unease forces me to make contact with others and to open
my soul.”
I close my eyes, thinking about the curious day I have had. I was outside, and the storm touched my body. I was inside, and the supper in
the cellar made me plunge down into myself, into the subterranean depths of my feelings.
| © Paulo Coelho, translated from the Portuguese by Margaret Jull Costa
How good it is, how very good, to be always on the move.
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