Black and White Berlin

Last week we went to Berlin with our tutor for a four days full immersion in the art scene.

It was really great. Berlin, which not all of us visited before, looked like a black and white photograph: the sky was grey and the streets covered in snow, salt, ice and dog's dung.

The presence of the war strikes you there like nowhere else: missing houses, bullet holes, silence and cranes everywhere. I had the sensation that Berlin never fully recovered from that, including the heavy heritage the war brought along.

But the art scene is something different: it is like East London in its golden days. Not spoiled yet, vibrant, affordable and with a definitely different attitude. We met curators and artists, and all were keen to talk to us open hearted about their different experiences, even if this required a good deal of chance and improvisation. In plain words, less academism and more generosity. A big, international artist community is operative in Berlin; I would have never imagined to catch up with some of my peers, totally by chance.

Of course, this brought new lymph to the show: we met Italian artists Silvia Iorio and Cesare Pietroiusti. Me, Clem and Fra went to Cesare's talk at the NGBK and found his dissertation about how he conceives the space truly inspiring. I will just quote one single sentence from that night, which in my opinion says it all:

"When I was eight, my family and my grandparents used to live next door to each other. Every night, I would go to bed at the same time and my Grandmother would knock from the other side of the wall, just to wish me goodnight. I then started to think about how I could reach the other side to go and see her whenever I wanted, and the most obvious way was to dig a hole in the wall. I would hide under my bed and work on it with an accomplice friend of mine. When my mother discovered it, she wasn't very happy. I have quoted this episode because I think that my whole artist career is an attempt to get to the other side of that wall, but I am still stuck in the middle."

Silvia is an old friend of mine, even from high school. Our paths always crossed since then, and always by chance. It was a pleasure to find her in Berlin. We shared a table at the traditional German restaurant Max & Moritz and got totally taken away by the description of her work. Science and art, in a charming mix. She told us about how she, herself, tried to defy space's boundaries by using light as a mean of communication. She created a work with colored switches connected to lamp bulbs which can be dislocated beyond the gallery space - in a building nearby, in another room, even in another area - and can be turn on or off, perhaps used to send a message. Space. On. Off. Something clicked here.