Milica Reinhart (originally from Croatia, now living in Germany) and Marjan Verkerk (Holland) have been working together as artists since the start of this century, when they particpated in a group exhibition. Since then their association has led to an international exhibition in South Africa (which also travelled to Germany, Holland, Kenya) originally devised for the World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg.
In 2003 they started a new project, Die Sehnsucht nach Ebene 2, tailor-made for a poor district in Reinhart's home town of Hagen. Sehnsucht means longing, nostalgia, homesickness. Ebene 2 is the name of a road bridge in this area. The starting-point was the idea that something should be done to brighten up this bridge, a grey and drab construction in a neighbourhood beset by problems.
Hagen is a medium-sized city in a gigantic industrial area in Germany, the Ruhr Basin. The bridge cuts through its centre. Every day 40,000 cars pass this concrete traffic colossus. Many pedestrians are forced to walk underneath it (not always a pleasant experience). 82 different nationalities inhabit the district surrounding the bridge. Some people live right next to the viaduct, which was built in 1970 in a residential area on the principle that 'every German has the right to live within 10 minutes of a motorway'. An outdated idea, but the bridge is still there, while the area itself has been neglected.
In her studio near the Amsterdam harbour, surrounded by paintings, photographs, lay-outs, Marjan Verkerk talks about the project with contagious enthusiasm: "We wanted to add colour - not so much of our own choosing. Instead, we decided to base the design on colours that are important to a sample of the (migrant) women who live within one square kilometre of the bridge. We talked to women and girls of dozens of nationalities about the colours that they ralet to their lives, their memories. Emotionally, some of them have never really left their countries of origin, but we also spoke with young girls who are firmly rooted in western society. Many stories were very impressive. Each woman who was interviewed also picked colours from a sample sheet that represented the exact shades they remembered (some 10 to 20 colours per person). We recorded every conversation and took note of the colours. Afterwards, Milica and I made a separate design for every interview. We divided up the 'informants' although we worked in the same room. Together, these compositions form an overall design that will be painted onto the bridge in 2008, over a length of 450 meters. In front of the design we will mount words in white neon letters that mean 'bridge' in the major languages used by the interviewees. (Some linguistic groups use the same word, for example 'most' means bridge in Polish as well as Croatian). At night, the radiance of these (hand-written) words will illuminate the colours on the viaduct.
A regular question is, why did we only interview women? We actually did try to ask men about their memories, but usually they could only picture the shirt of their local soccer team. Emotional associations don't seem to resonate that much. (A number of my male pupils did not find it so hard to link colours to personal memories, but they are training to be painters ...). Plus, women are often the storytellers, and conduits to the next generation. To us it seemed that mothers strongly influenced the way their children integrated with, and developed within, an alien society."
To achieve the goal they had set themselves - and to get 'Ebene 2' to light up its neighbourhood like a multicoloured beacon 'fuelled' by memories - Reinhart and Verkerk needed to move well beyond established artistic territory. Apart from all the preparations that went into the gestation of the design - interviews, colour compositions - there were countless discussions, meetings, memo's, concepts, grant applications (successful or not) just to get the project on the rails, logistically and financially. But these complicated processes are not meant to be apparent to anyone who just happens by and sees the finished product.
Verkerk: "For me, personally, the process of creation is extremely important. When I start there is often a multitude of thoughts that only crystallize gradually into colours and shapes. But in my view it is not necessary to open up this process to the viewer. The interviews that we did for 'the bridge' were an integral part of the creative procedure, but eventually you move on to the next stage (although we plan to reproduce quotes from the interviews on the pillars supporting the viaduct). However, as the atmosphere was often highly charged, this energy will probably have a lasting effect on the project. "
When they started the artists did not anticipate how many hidden feelings would come to the surface during the interviews. Homesickness, distress at lost dreams, traumatic memories. There were tears of sadness but also moments when precious recollections were unearthed by the women, many of whom have led difficult lives and experienced real hardship. 81-year old German Margarethe run before the Russians during World War II, 26-year old Thuy fled her country as a very young girl during the Vietnam War. Not surprisingly, quite a few of the migrant women feel isolated, uprooted, out of sync with German society. Many of them said that the interview with the artists was the first time that they shared their feelings with outsiders.
In the end, it turned out that the project as a whole was equally capable of evoking strong emotions, both positive and negative. In the district itself, but also much further afield. The women who participated (and often their children as well) were very enthusiastic and proud that their colours and memories would feature on the bridge. This feeling was shared by many of the locals, even people who had not directly taken part themselves. A neighbourhood café showed a pilot film by director Ute Badura (who is making a documentary about Die Sehnsucht nach Ebene 2). The bridge inspired several 'sattelite projects'. For instance, young filmmaker Özgür Arslan, born in Turkey, made 'Im Schatten der Ebene 2' (In the shadow of Ebene 2) about the hopeless situation of migrant youth and the harsh reality in this neighbourhood of traffic in women, prostitution. Pupils at a neighbouring secondary school based a theatre play on events in the area, a rap podium was set up, the bridge (and the themes of homesickness and longing) acted as a 'muse' for a choreography created and performed by a multicultural dance group. In addition, the Turkish / German author Ali Arslan wrote a book for young people, 'Die Farben der Liebe' (The colour of love) about passion in a pluralist society. His novel was commissioned by the Department of Culture of the municipality of Hagen, which supported 'Die Sehnsucht nach Ebene 2'. In the brochure about the project, it was said that 'the upgrading of the area, and the artistic encouragement of the residents (...)' is a sign of 'changed priorities' for state-funded culture. Not just in Hagen itself. The brochure also mentions that in recent years, five other 'pilot cities' in the federal state of NRW have adopted a multicultural approach as the linchpin for their culture policy.
Not everyone in the region was happy with the project. To some, multiculturalism was a thorn in the flesh. This became clear in the period immediately before a meeting of Hagen's town council in October 2007, which was crucial to the project as - four years after its conception - a final decision would be taken whether the project would get the go-ahead.
Not so much on financial grounds. Much earlier, it had become clear that Hagen did not have the money to (single-handedly) fund such a large project. Including a renovation that had already been planned, the costs would run to around one million euro. The artists, supported by Exile-Kulturkoordination, had to balance the budget themselves, using all avenues open to them in the public and private sector. Verkerk : "Rental costs for the scaffolding were tricky; 300,000 euro for six months, almost a third of the entire budget. The city couldn't afford it. So we took our drawings and drafts to Düsseldorf to personally convince the federal ministers of Culture and of Construction and Housing. As a result, NRW promised to pay for the scaffolding. As long as the Hagen council approved the project…" At times, prospects seemed dire. Finally, in the course of 2007, a number of fundraising events were held and several large industrial sponsors pledged their support. But all of this would have been in vain if the local politicians would decide to give the project the thumbs down. It became, in part, a very public struggle.
Verkerk (who has continued to live in Amsterdam, but spends part of the week in Hagen): "Feelings were running very high in the three weeks before the meeting. Every day, letters by supporters and opponents filled a number of pages in the two local newspapers. Sometimes it became a debate about the very essence of art. People wrote things like, 'we don't want this bridge project, give us extra childcare and wastebaskets' but there were also positive comments, 'art is as vital as our daily bread' and 'this project is a prime example of (...) communication and courage'. "
One reason why many German citizens protested was that they objected to being regarded as 'just one of many nationalities' in a neighbourhood that had turned into a heterogeneous melting pot. On the other hand, many other letter-writers embraced the project whole-heartedly. Not just people who lived near the bridge, but also culture lovers in general. A factor that played a part behind the scenes was that the corporate sponsors were unequivocal in their support for the project. Voting took place on knife's edge. No punches were pulled, and not every council member toed the party line. In the end, enthusiasm saved the day.
Verkerk: "We won! Thankfully, the project was given the green light. Now we can finally concentrate on the work itself."
Over the years, Verkerk and Reinhart have invested a gigantic amount of time and energy in the project, against minimal remuneration. Even in 2008, with the project at full throttle, they can only expect to earn a relatively modest income. Especially compared to fees that would be considered normal in the field of monumental art.
Verkerk: "A project in such a public space would usually be designed on the basis of the existing architecture and infrastructure. Every detail would be specified in advance, and presented through PowerPoint presentations and exact calculations. This does not require policy makers to use their imagination, or to 'show their true colours'. But when we met up with people in authority we kept saying, "we need you to accept the idea with open arms but the eventual design will depend on the stories that we are told and the colours selected by the women. Almost unthinkable for such a large-scale and expensive project. Politicians in particular have great difficulties to take a leap in the dark. First, we had to gain their confidence. It often took a long time and was only possible by establishing intensive contact. We constantly had to defend the idea and explain it to architects, managers, residents, planners, politicians. We pulled it off because we continued to talk with them in a very personal manner. Some of the officials who are responsible for maintaining the bridge said initially that they were not interested in art, but eventually they were prepared to cooperate by significantly advancing the renovation. To me, that is the great benefit of personal communication."
Likewise, it was very important that the sponsors saw the value of the concept behind the project. Verkerk: "Therefore they do not feel a great need to interfere, or to try to influence the end result. Apart from publicity, their only reward will be a small plaque at the foot of the bridge." To her mind the 'finished product' will have a direct impact on its environment. "The design will be seen by motorists racing past as well as by the inhabitants of the area. There will be very positive and diverse imagery in a spot that used to be boring." But she thinks there will also be a more subtle effect. "Many of the people we met, who are from a migrant background, are very touched that they are suddenly receiving positive attention. In itself, applying colours to a bridge is not political. Asking ordinary people from different countries about their individual experiences is. Many people would much prefer to generalize: 'Foreigners are lazy, they only come here to take advantage of us'. This does not just happen in Germany but in many other countries as well. People pay lip service to the theory of diversity but they do not really want to listen to the subjective stories of 'outsiders'. If you do, you accept that this other person - this 'alien' - is your equal. That is apparently something many people are scared of."
She says there have been moments when both artists were about to throw in the towel because the road seemed so long and endlessly winding. In the end, they didn't. "Many artists enjoy testing the boundaries of what is possible. It is an interesting way to live your life."
©Moze Jacobs, 2007
Start
Impressum
login
Kontaktieren
English
