forward ever backward never
"I struggle to be brief, and I become obscure."
— Horace, Ars Poetica
For ten years Martin Eberle filmed Berlin's infamous club scene. These
clubs, known as the "international benchmark for improvised coolness",
provide an incredibly rich palate for Eberle's stark and revealing
photographs. By reducing the temporary spaces to the bleak reality of their
transient existence, the interior and exterior photographs expose the
run-down facades and eclectic interiors as they truly were.
Human interaction is illustrated not through the photos but instead, as
text, providing a surreal juxtaposition of life and death as the
club-goer's animated dialogue contrasts with the pictures of the abandoned
spaces.
There is a sense of profound loss in the comments made by the club patrons,
of affection for one temporary space now discarded for another. The Berlin
club scene still exists, an underground movement of Ecstasy, alcohol, and
raves, supported by Internet instant information accessibility. But this
book is not a judgment call. It doesn't celebrate or condemn, it documents.
And it is an extraordinary documentary of a moment in time.
The descriptions read like obituaries, detailing the birth and death of the
club followed by eulogies from its patrons.
FINKS
"Why are my friends such finks?" New Year's Eve 1998/99 t o November 2000.
In the immediate vicinity of the Reichstag, separated only by the river
Spree and a train track. Open just one day a week (like many others), in
the beginning eve on afternoons. Surprisingly low room between two floor
levels, to be reached via an old wooden staircase. On the walls tiny
drawings and carefully attached flyers. The courtyard is somehow part of it
(barbecues and lounging) as well as the room to the street which is
intermittently used as a gallery space.
[comments] Every five minutes a local train passed. You watched the
passengers and slowly but surely turned sentimental. Sebastian
Sitting in front of the second window (open in the summer and to the right
of the entrance) and looking out you could watch the bright trains going
past. On the one hand this was very relaxing, on the other it meant you
were somehow always moving. And it made you sad when you arrived and the
space was already taken. Esther
Those familiar with my reviews know that I am unabashed in my appreciation
of Die Gestalten Verlag's publications. Perhaps one day they will create a
substandard volume, but I doubt it. Temporary Spaces lives up to
their incredibly high publishing standards. This full color volume has a
padded cover reminiscent of a high school year book,which struck me as
especially significant, because these temporary spaces, these clubs, were
as fleeting as high school. It is a thought-provoking visual commentary, an
"uneasy declaration of love for the transience and enthusiasm reverberating
in the clean, architectonic accuracy of the pictures." Not just a notch in
any bibliophile's belt, this one's truly interesting and compelling -- an
amazing book.
GALERIE BERLINTOKYO "In those golden days good clubs had
shitty toilets. When you wedged yourself behind the garbage bins in the
couryard you know how great the berlintokyo had to be. Here we learned to
piss while standing, analysed concerts and relationships with our trousers
down, made new friends while shouting "it's busy" when too many people
tried to squeeze in behind the yellow container. Here we ruined long coats
and shoes, drank away embarassment and vanity and always knew that washing
your hands is something for lightweights. Imke
— 5 June 2002
