The use of Socialist Realism in public art and architecture is endless throughout the former Soviet bloc. It was clearly a major tool employed by the government(s) to create a culture blindy faithful and dependent on the state. The government of the GDR again shows itself as a Soviet puppet in their strikingly similar use of Socialist Realism throughout East Berlin.

One primary designer of such buildings is Hermann Henselman, former Berlin city architect, who even laid original plans for the Berlin TV Tower (seen in first image).While his name had come up in my research of Karl-Marx-Allee weeks ago, it wasn't until recently that I realized just how many of the buildings I walk by every day are creations of Henselman. As a student during the Bauhaus era, many of Henselman's buildings align closer to the modernist guidelines than stalinist ones. Still, even on some of his most "Bauhaus" buildings are glaring reminders of Henselman's pandering to the communist government. The most obvious example of this is the Haus des Lehrers off Alexanderplatz (pictured in second image).

Covering a large portion of the modernist high-rise's outer facade is a Socialist Realist mural depicting glorified images of life in the GDR. After reading about it, I went to take a closer look at the images and was shocked at what I had not fully realized before. There are scenes showing good communist children learning and presumably on their way to serving the state well, similar to the idea of the "Pioneers". There are also images depicting the strong ethic of the communist blue collar worker, as well as the great minds of scientists all working toward the advancement of the great state (Some of these images can be seen in the third photo).

The use of socialist realistic art within the architecture in order to make people feel a certain way.

Alone In The City

After passing by several times on my way to visit my sister at her apartment near Westhafen, and leading my student-led tour on neighborhoods border, I decided to visit Wedding. The area attracted me because of the large area that it takes up on a map, and explanation that my sister gave me about it being a poor, cheap neighborhood that was becoming "cool" and therefor, gentrified, much like Kruezberg has in recent years. I decided to get off not at the main Wedding ring-station, but a little further north at U6-Bahnhhof Seestrasse, where I hoped to find a more distinct feel away from the neighborhood's transportation center as well as the asian supermarket my sister suggested I visit.

The minute I stepped out of the underground station, I could feel so many differences between this neighborhood and many others in Berlin. My first impression was that it felt more bustling and condensed than most parts of the city I had been. The street was packed with cars in all directions, and the sidewalks were nearly full as well, with everyone walking at what seemed to be a faster pace. The buildings were much older here than in our neighborhood, and all of them tightly hugged the wide sidewalks with no small greenspace in between. Advertising also seemed to be more prominent here, including an enormous movie poster that took up the facade of a large glass building kitty-corner from the station.

I decided to buy a small meal at the chinese fast food place the sat on the street directly in front of the station. Its walls were made completely of glass and there was a small two person table right against one of the windows that would be perfect for observing life on the street as I sat. Sitting in the warm building away from the cold wind that blew outside, I thought back to the reading that described sitting in an outdoor cafe and taking in the city. After seeing the doorway directly next to me, though, I realized that I was almost taking part in a very common ritual for this block. It was a joint doorway that featured a hall leading to four different stores, so it was a perfect place for people to take a break from cold if they needed to stop for any reason. I witnessed multiple people step inside to take phone calls or adjust their scarves or coats, and yet another man spend several minutes waiting in the doorway as he passed the time to meet a friend outside, who eventually came. Near the end of my visit, there was another girl who simply stood in the doorway for 20 minutes, but her patience for whatever she was waiting for outlasted my curiosity about why she was there so long. It was clear however that this common hallway, with no store clerks or anyone else telling people to move along was utilized to the fullest. It did not, however, drain street life or create unwanted loitering, at least not while I was observing.

Overall, I left the Seestrasse area of Wedding feeling like the neighborhood had a much more American out-of-downtown-big-city feel too it, with its taller older buildings, prominent advertisements, fast pace, and small gridded blocks filled with cars. There were no Bauhaus or communist apartment buildings here, and even the TV Tower was not visible from this block.

Berlin, Week 6: Blending?

As the birthplace of the 1989 uprisings against the GDR, Leipzig has many physical reminders of the communist government’s decades of power. Compared to Berlin, it is a town much more dominated by structures clearly built well before World War II. Still, though, on nearly every block stands a daunting creation of GDR leaders (One example seen in the first photo, in the city center). On my walks around Leipzig, I found my questions of “why” the buildings of East Germany echoed the Stalinist designs of the Soviet Union were pushed aside as I tried to make sense of whether or not an attempt was made to blend this style with what already stood in the city.

Behind the famous St. Nicholas Church is a block of buildings nestled together, and relatively blended in with the surrounding urban landscape. It was not until our guide pointed out one of the buildings in the row that I noticed it was very different from the rest, both in age and overall design (seen in the second image). Once pointed out, the building looked clearly like one that would have been built under the GDR, yet there were elements in its design that were obviously meant to subdue its ties with modernism and help it to blend in with the designs of the past. Its design was based around three aspects almost never seen in constructivist and Stalinist architecture. It was relatively low-rise, standing 7-stories tall and just inches above its direct neighbor. The newer building was also painted very neutral, subtle colors that did not bring attention to themselves. Finally, it featured a pitched roof that matched its surroundings, rather than the typical boxed, flat roof. At this point I began to wonder why Leipzig’s urban landscape was given a level of respect not shared with Berlin.

I never really developed a theory that there was a Leipzig master construction design plan under the GDR that dictated new buildings must blend into existing ones because some of my first impressions of the city center were monstrous mid-rise block buildings that often “stole the show” from the charming pre-war buildings below (such as the one in the third image). Even modern day construction in Leipzig seems to be caught somewhere in the middle. The skeleton of the new mall being built makes it look like it will be as overbearing and unconcerned with its surroundings as the worst of the communist buildings, yet public mock ups brag that it will feature a façade that pays respect to the past, and helps the building not stand out as an example of extreme capitalism.