Hamburger Bahnhof (trainstation) was built and first used as a terminal in the mid 1800s. It went out of train service by the beginning of the twentieth century, survived the war, and opened as the Nationalgalerie's institution for contemporary art in 1996.
Thursday afternoons and evenings happen to be free art time in Berlin. Last week I only made it in for about twenty minutes before they closed at 18:00, but this time I left myself a good hour and a half and had ample time to wander the hallways and let my brain get lost in the hallways and pieces and installations.
Entering the grounds of the Hamburger Bahnhof, I am immediately struck by the bright yellow and red flags flying atop the two towers above the doorway. "Die Kunst ist Super!" ("The art is super!), they boast. This colorful, fluttering beckoning along with Dan Flavin's usual neon/fluorescent installation on one side of the courtyard is sure to ward off anyone who thinks they are about to see Kirchner or Schiele (or any German artist whose work dates prior to the radical artistic revolutions beginning in the 1960s). This is delightful for me.
Walking through the large wooden doors, before me stands what was once the main train platform area. Completely gutted, no trains run here now, but the architectural elements of a grand German train station are still elegantly accentuated in this main hall. Large metal trellised beams, high vaulted arches, and beautiful sectioned skylights and windows make this cavernous space a stark but inviting first major work to view in the museum and as a taste of what lies behind the walls of the impressive heart of this museum. With white walls, open space, Helvetica fonts, and names like Jeff Koons, Andy Warhol, Sol Le Witt, and Robert Smithson, I was immediately reminded of my favorite art museum--the DIA: Beacon art institute in Beacon, NY, about an hour and a half north of the city.
I must admit I'm on a visual hunt for all things ZOLA. That is to say, I'm looking for inspiration everywhere for my next theatrical directing venture, Emile Zola's naturalistic thriller Therese Raquin. For me, the Hamburger Bahnhof left only a small bit of disappointment in visual and emotional stimulation. This mostly derived from my own difficulty finding a comfortable way to take the museum in. It wasn't until I reached my third hall of perhaps five that I got into a groove and started being drawn into the work. Part of this is surely my own issue, but it is also definitely the primary responsibility of the museum to curate their work in a way that is as inclusive, critical, and thought provoking as possible. Something was missing in the curatorial continuity here.
Here's a few notables from my trip through Hamburger Bahnhof:
DANIEL SPOERRI's table setting turned on its side and mounted on the wall- a ghostly remnant/preserved moment of a communal experience that has been stolen from its proper place in time
PAUL PFEIFFER's half constructed football stadium combined with a 90 degree reflective/translucent wall provides a full 360 degree view of a scale model of a gigantic sports palace; his next room is completely empty but for the enormous soundscape of the inside of a football stadium coming from approximately 10-15 speakers placed around the room in juxtaposition to a small 5cmx5cm screen playing footage of a major football game at the far end of the space- an interesting and awe inspiring comment on the feeling that is created when thousands of people come together to celebrate a competitive sport versus the small taste received through digital/visual means
ABSALON's Ceullule II installation- an abode all in white, created only of pure cubic geometric shapes (cubes, rectangles, cylinders, etc) that is perfectly proportioned to accommodate one person; viewing the prototype from the inside is claustrophobically frustrating as is his video installation: a self videoportrait of himself screaming repetitively from the inside one of his creations. Absalon died from AIDS at 28 in 1993 before fulfilling his vision of installing prototypes of his personal living space in at least five cities
OTTO ZITKO's line and symbol painting on all four sides of an intermittent room provides color to an otherwise empty wall-canvas and through chaos creates an incredibly effective and simple continuity of space
DIETER/BJÖRN/ODDUR ROTH's gardensculpture started as a decomposable head bust of bird seeds and has grown through generations into a piece over 40m long- its rustic ladders, windows, and various pieces of junk created a treehouse without the tree and in the middle of a warehouse space (the claim of containing live bunnies proved untrue...)
RODNEY GRAHAM's two video installations--one of a typewriter being slowly covered in snow and one of a slowly turning chandelier--demonstrated how much I adore an old, loud, complicated 16mm projection machine
RICHARD ARTSCHAGER's "No Exit" hallway stretched the entire length of the museum's main wing with overhead light globes reading a simple red EXIT the entire length of the corridor
PIPILOTTI RIST's video installation didn't do much for me but his oversized red nylon couch and armchair gave me a laugh as I watched people watching his work--I was reminded of the power of proportion
ROBERT KUSMIROWSKI's Transition corridor mimicked the modern underground Berlin train station with some simple tape lines and eggshell paint (almost trump l'oeil)
MATTHEW BARNEY's video installation of the first part of his five section film The Cremaster Cycle reminded me that I need more of him in my life: So do you
A question formed in my mind as I views work after work entitled Ohne namen (untitled) that are so common in contemporary art museums. Someone important to me recently suggested a theory that music is only pure when it has no title and no words. Otherwise, I presume we are introducing implied or imposed meanings on something that otherwise exists in some uninfluenced--though still human developed--form. These pure works are supposed to be representations of emotional states--those of the artists turmoil or overwhelming love or whatever else. If this is the case for music, could one argue that it is necessary for visual art as well? In that case what about theater? Are we even looking for a pure form in theater? Without words and titles wouldn't theater be dance? So what's the difference?
I could go on.
Ultimately, my thoughts and experience here today reinforced the fact that DIA: Beacon is my favorite museum in the world. I wish I could go there today. Right now. If you are one of my long lost loves in NYC right now, please put down what you are doing, buy your MTA Metro North daycation pass to Beacon (including museum admission) and run--don't walk--to the most amazing day in a museum you will ever have. Seriously though, if you have a Saturday or Sunday free, NOW is the time to visit this unbelievably beautiful town on the Hudson with a contemporary art museum and collection that will absolutely blow your mind.
A very important teacher begged me to go here once, and since I did 1 year ago, now I'm begging you. It's actually a no brainer.
For now, I will fulfill my contemporary art yearnings by visiting this delightful museum with its own impressive collection of thought provoking works.
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