Local Hero “We shouldn’t take all the credit [for the way the photos look],” Ole says, modestly. “But we could take the credit for trying to keep the standard up. We aim for a certain look, and that’s what we fell in love with, so it is our goal to have these photos come out all over the place. At any time. That’s our ambition.” Indeed, anyone who has used a Photoautomat knows the charm and quality of the photography itself. With striking contrast and sharp yet warm black and white, the four passport-sized photos look a comfortable level or two better than even the best filter on any app you can find. Add to that the joy of holding a physical print in your hands, and it’s no wonder these slender strips have become a recognisable feature on fridges and notice boards in Berlin homes. However, since every booth is unique, maintaining that look and quality comes down to dedication and expertise. “Some are really old and the parts are not the same,” Asger begins, touching on the technical challenges of the project. “It’s not industrial production, and we got them from different places all over the world.” “They’re characters, these booths,” Ole continues. “Some are a bit sensitive. Some are really strong, you just have to listen to the machine and get a sense of what it is. Some booths are from the 1950s, others are from the ‘70s or ‘80s. The parts are not interchangeable; they are individuals.” Ole and Asger believe it’s an expectation of quality, and the guarantee of a memento, that has kept the project going. Though certainly irresistible to visiting weekenders, they are convinced the majority of their customers are locals who return to the machines time and again. “We only exist because we have returning customers,” Ole says, sincerely. “That’s for sure. People come back. We believe that’s the core of the business; that people like to return. That’s why we want to keep the booths clean and the quality of the photos as good as possible.” Trusting in the quality, some Photoautomat aficionados will go as far as to call when a booth isn’t working as expected, contributing to a network of feedback from a population of eager participants. It’s a sign that, far from being the forgettable, here-today-gone-tomorrow street gimmicks that many predicted, these machines have become a cherished part of the city’s landscape: an accessible public good made all the more charming by the fact that they seem, somehow, to belong. Photoautomat « SOME ARE A BIT SENSITIVE. SOME ARE REALLY STRONG, YOU JUST HAVE TO LISTEN TO THE MACHINE AND GET A SENSE OF WHAT IT IS. » Berlin’s unkempt chic at no extra cost. This is something Ole and Asger claim never to encourage. They have even, in fact, locked horns with the likes of the Berlinale, BVG, and Converse for using the booths without permission. It wasn’t about getting paid a fair share, they assert, but about taking a stand. “It’s important to try and stop it from happening again. We don’t want to be [associated] with Converse, even if we get thousands,” says Asger. In keeping with this spirit, the Photoautomat entrepreneurs have kept their venture customer-friendly. For the 13 years that the booths have been in operation in the city, a strip of photos has maintained the ever-affordable price of two euros. That feels increasingly modest as Berlin reluctantly plays catch up with its wealthier and better exploited European neighbours. From the beginning, the Photoautomaten have made use of the last of the city’s unused lots, industrial yards, and unofficial public spaces. Like the squats, bars and clubs of the past, they too have brought life to areas left untouched by the once invisible hand of the Berlin property market. But like many small business owners, Ole and Asger are confronted by development in the city. From their workshop on Bersarinplatz, they look to find new locations for the booths that have been displaced by new buildings and soaring rents. “You lose places and then you need to find new ones,” Asger says. “But there’s less choice because they’re building on every free spot. So it’s getting more difficult. It’s a big task to keep the locations we have now.” But the pair remains optimistic, buoyed by the knowledge that the Photoautomaten have become an established, if inconspicuous, part of life in the city. “People even stay in contact [with one another], because they wait in line together,” says Asger, referring to the way the booths can form new friendships as people bond over that five-minute eternity as they wait for their photos to emerge. The Berlin Photoautomaten offer a shared experience to return to time and again; an analogue anachronism in a digital era. In strips of newly-developed photos, they provide a way for the city to take a portrait of itself. Find your nearest Photoautomat at photoautomat.de Over the years, that charm has also proved alluring to advertisers who are ever-ready to seize an opportunity to capitalise on 12 <strong>Issue</strong> <strong>Five</strong>
Autumn/Winter 2017 13
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