Exberliner Issue 171 May 2018

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LEBENSKÜNSTLER Life after Tacheles: What’s become of the artist squatters? It was an artists’ utopia, a cultural institution, a tourist magnet: after over two decades on Oranienburger Straße, Tacheles was shut down, the artists kicked out. Five and a half years on, Taylor Lindsay tracked down the original clique to find out what came next. If you walked down Mitte’s Oranienburger Straße at any point between 1990 and 2012, you would have likely noticed a commanding, if dishevelled, structure located just a short distance from the synagogue. Up until five years ago, the second-most visited art attraction in Berlin wasn’t the East Side Gallery or Museum Island, it was this five-storey building: aka Kunsthaus Tacheles. Taken over by artists after the Wall fell in 1990, the building was transformed into a creative commune. It was quintessential post- Wende Berlin: upon their occupancy, the artists launched a legal battle for the property and rescued it from demolition, maintaining a presence for 22 years. At its peak, Kunsthaus Tacheles had a theatre, a bar, an event space, studios and nearly 100 creators from over 30 different countries all under one roof. There was no censorship, no middleman at the market. The doors to the house were open 24/7, and artists sold work right out of their studios. Everyone from critics to tourists, to students, to other artists wandered in and out of Tacheles, named after the Yiddish word meaning “straight-talk”. Some say the Kunsthaus became kitschy in its final years, producing “artsy” works deliberately catering to the tourist palate. Still, it was the only place of its kind. But it didn’t last. The temporary lease, under which they paid a symbolic 50 cents per year, came to an end in 2008. For three more years the artists were once more illegally squatting, peacefully pushing back against investors, opposition and the city of Berlin (under Mayor Klaus Wowereit). Their lack of menace didn’t mitigate their determination – they stayed in the building, even as their electricity was abruptly cut off and different investors approached artists individually, offering them money to leave. Except for the café on the ground floor, most held out. Finally, city officials came and forced the last of them to vacate on September 4, 2012. Thousands mourned and protested; the city had stamped out a crucial subculture and with it, a quintessential spirit. Or did they? Five years later, don’t look for Tacheles in the bereft building on Oranienburger Straße, now marooned on the edge Linda Cerna of a vast desert of a development site. If you want a glimpse of the spirit today, look at the Tacheles Berliners who wouldn’t be subdued. A new Tacheles in Lichtenberg? Txus Parras, now 55, was one of the earliest internationals to arrive at Tacheles. At 26 he was travelling the world as an event technician, but he admits he always wanted to be an artist. Touring with a punk band called “Pogo” took him from Spain to Poland, and from Poland to Berlin. The first place he found was Tacheles. “And I never went back to Spain,” he says, grinning at the memory. He settled in and started creating. Looking at his work now, it’s hard to imagine a version of himself that wasn’t making art. For one thing, he’s covered in it: buttons on his hats, rings on his fingers, lime green pants stamped with political slogans, and his accordion at hand. He designs psychedelic patterns for clothing, sculptures made from discarded doll parts, posters in at least three different languages, and tourist favourites like zines and painted records. The latter he sells at the East Side Gallery, which is where we first met him. When Tacheles comes up, he describes it like he was just there hours before. “It was free, it was open, there was this great feeling. We had the philosophy there that everyone is an artist. Everyone is an artist,” he insists with a guttural voice, talking with his hands. “And now we want to make a new artist meeting place, something with the spirit of Tacheles.” This “new place” is actually a thing, and the “we” he alludes to includes four other Tacheles originals: Tim Roeloffs, Peter Rampazo, Lucas Böttcher and his father Jürgen Böttcher. Named Kulturbotschaft Lichtenberg, the project began in February this year with a flurry of excitement as German newspapers 12 EXBERLINER 171
DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY Tacheles in 12 dates 1907 Construction of the 9000sqm building, designed to be a department store 1909 - 1914 Department store operated by Wolf Wertheim, auctioned off just before WWI 1928 Building owned by AEG and used as a product showroom for electrical goods 1930s Used by Nazi officials 1941 Used to hold French prisoners of war 1948 Taken by the GDR, used for multiple short-term businesses 1980 Doomed for demolition thanks to zero renovations 1990 Two months before demolition, the first Tacheles artists occupy the building and push for a re-examination of the space 1992 Building examined and deemed liveable (and a historic landmark) 2012 Artists forced to leave, building empty. Surrounding stores begin to close 2016 Bank, city and investors announce commercial intentions, try to invite big name artists to the space for their own project. Ai Weiwei refuses 2018 TBD initially dubbed it “New Tacheles”. There are some major differences though: the building’s address, Herzbergstraße 53, puts it right on the edge of the city, and the rent is €10,000 a month. But the founders moved fast, filling the three spacious floors with work spanning decades – from 86-year-old Jürgen Böttcher’s oil canvases dating back to the 1970s to new works from street artists who Parras met weeks earlier. Paintings, collage and silk screened shirts line almost every surface that isn’t a footpath in the artists’ studios. There’s a common area where the founders and a growing group of almost 60 people meet and cook together. Everything is peppered with colour. Fully peopled, it might look something like Tacheles. As for the rent, they’re making it work, one scrappy manoeuvre at a time; selling art, hosting events, or making deals with wholesalers, swapping designs for funds. “Nobody is Tacheles more than us,” Parras says proudly of the project. “But it’s not a new Tacheles. We’re just incorporating the old philosophy of Tacheles; we want to keep the spirit that made it a social, cultural place, not just a functional one.” Is this all because he misses the original Tacheles? Partly. “Nobody wanted to go,” he says of the September eviction. “But actually, I didn’t really leave till December,” he grins. “They had to keep coming back for me.” Tacheles may be gone but at Kulturbotschaft Lichtenberg Txus Parras (pic), Tim Roeloffs & co are training a new generation of artists in their philosophy. Lessons from the Tacheles elders While Parras is the project’s biggest proselytiser, Tim Roeloffs is at its core, though he credits the others for bringing the Lichtenberg building to life. When Roeloffs got to Tacheles in 1992, he wasn’t technically an artist either, coming instead from a family of Dutch farmers. His story is one of Berlin’s most famous: discovered by Donatella Versace at Tacheles in 2007, rocketed to fame, harangued by real estate sharks since 2011, and recently evicted from his home. “It’s been a crazy time,” Roeloffs explains. “First I was kicked out of Tacheles. Then, this year, I got kicked out of my private working space. Then I got kicked out of the next place I went to work. And then I was kicked out of my home. But, somehow, I’m the happiest man in the world with this place,” he gestures around the Lichtenberg hub. Like Parras, Roeloffs conjures up fervour and flavour when he talks about the old days at Tacheles, beer in hand, gluing together newspapers into canvas material as he speaks. “It was more than a workplace. You had input and output and exchange. I didn’t come from the art world; I learned in squats, and Tacheles was like my university.” At “Tacheles Academy,” the new programme run by Parras and Roeloffs, a growing group of 20-somethings learn how to use scrap material and second-hand supplies to make art for sale. They show up to the Kulturbotschaft when they want, learn from the Tacheles elders, and spend much of their time out selling art on the street. “Everyone can do it this way,” says Roeloffs, who can build €200 wooden frames from roadside supplies. “You’re not ‘allowed’ to do this, in some people’s minds. Everyone’s in love with the idea of the starving, poor unknown artist. But if I make something today, I want to sell it tomorrow. Wanting to make money doesn’t make me less of an artist.” But these are just five of the Tacheles old guard. Where are the others? German Palomeque The unofficial boss If Parras, Roeloffs and the Böttchers were the old “spirit” of Tacheles, a different group of people were more like the bones, the skeletal system that gave it a distinct – and perhaps controversial – shape in the last decade. This was a small body of five, handling operations, admin, tax, PR and politics, all the while artists themselves. Martin Reiter and Linda Cerna were at the helm of the group. It’s no secret that Reiter wasn’t always popular with the Tacheles folk. But he’s unfazed by this today. “My position, if you want it in those terms, was to play the role of the boss,” he says slowly. “The boss gets involved with the politics, the market… when things get difficult, everyone needs to be able to point to ‘the fucked-up boss.’” MAY 2018 13
Page 1 and 2: 1968-2018 Berliners look back POLIT
Page 3 and 4: CONTENTS EXBERLINER 171 - MAY 2018
Page 5 and 6: COLUMN— Political Notebook Why ar
Page 7 and 8: BEST OF BERLIN— May 2018 VOLKSBÜ
Page 9 and 10: DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY point I go
Page 11 and 12: DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY with our d
Page 13: DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY “Remaini
Page 17 and 18: DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY took over:
Page 19 and 20: DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY QR code. I
Page 21 and 22: CONFESSION The sugar babes Being a
Page 23 and 24: DON’T WORK, MAKE MONEY Worldwide,
Page 25 and 26: @waltercrasshole ”best franco-ger
Page 27 and 28: WHAT’S ON — Exhibitions were co
Page 29 and 30: WHAT’S ON — Film Starts May 3 7
Page 31 and 32: Festival previews WHAT’S ON — F
Page 33 and 34: WHAT’S ON — Music Quote Tobias
Page 35 and 36: WHAT’S ON — Music Tips Classica
Page 37 and 38: WHAT’S ON — Stage THEATER- TREF
Page 39 and 40: WHAT’S ON — Stage PALMYRA by be
Page 41 and 42: WHAT’S ON — Art Marc Chagall: C
Page 43 and 44: WHAT’S ON— Art Georgina Steytle
Page 45 and 46: WHAT’S ON — Calendar FRI 18 Kar
Page 47 and 48: ADVERTORIAL — The Berlin Guide G
Page 49 and 50: ADVERTISING — The Language School
Page 51 and 52: BERLIN BITES BREAD Le Brot Real bag
Page 53 and 54: COLUMN— The Gay Berliner Xpose yo
Page 55 and 56: 7,50 € © »the editor« pierrotl

Exberliner Issue 171 May 2018

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