Berlin and Paris

It's been a couple of weeks now since I returned from Berlin and Paris.  I've been meaning to post for a while, but I've been pulling it all together in my head and the return to work and everything else here has gotten the better of me.  The main purpose of my trip was to attend Thorsten Overgaard's Advanced Photo Workshop. Thorsten is an experienced Danish photographer and dedicated Leica fanatic, well known in Leica circles, and I'd be following his blog for some time. Particularly his reviews and commentary about the Leica M9, but also his very practical and sophisticated advice.  His workshops have always interested me; the fact that the next one was going to be held in Berlin piqued my interest even more.  Berlin is a place I've always wanted to visit, for a couple of decades now or more.  I made a plan in three parts:  Berlin on my own (to wander, photograph), Berlin for the workshop (more photos, more wandering, learning, connecting with others), and a train ride to Paris for five more days (more wandering, more photos in my favourite city...).  And hopefully, in all of this, remembering something.

The ear infection was problematic, but in the end it was what it was. A distraction certainly, and a lot of pain and pressure (some of which persists still and will be with me for a while), but I was fortunate to get some excellent treatment while in Berlin. More on that later.

Bullet holes near the Victory Monument

Greek statue and bullet holes - Tiergarten

Soviet tank - war memorial

Soviet war memorial

Berlin wears its history quietly, secretly. It’s subtle, in the details you pick up – patched bullet holes in stonework in some places; others, overtly visible.  Like the Greek statue at the end of the Tiergarten, near the Brandenburg Gate.  I’m glad the Wall is gone, but I would have liked to have seen the old East/West Berlin.  Feel the tension in the air, see the Brandenburg Gate when it meant something – when there wasn’t a Starbucks 200m into the East side.

When there wasn’t a guy in a Darth Vader costume by the Gate, acting for spare change for the 15 year old girls with cell phone cameras.  Those days are gone. And so are the photos I fell in love with - not the pictures of dead soldiers, but just all of the history of the area, from Napoleon to the war, to the building of the wall, to the fall of the wall.  I missed those times; they slipped by in the years. I couldn't help but feel that this whole area, from the Reichstag and the Gate through the Unter den Linden, should be treated with a bit more reverence.  Thousands died in this area; it was subject to some of the heaviest and vicious fighting of the War. And then with the rise of the Wall, many more were murdered as they tried to escape East to West...This is what really happened here:

 "What's Left of the Empire Strikes Back"

© 2012 J. Popowich

"Stormtrooper Smoke Break"
©2012 J. Popowich

"Brandenburg Break-Down"

©2012 J. Popowich

But Berlin is more than its war memories, I know that. In addition to the walking, I rode the S-Bahn many times. To the Tiergarten, to Zoo station. I love watching the city slip by.  Between the street art along the bahn, to the people looking out of their windows in bleak offices and apartments – who are they, what are their lives? What are they thinking?

© J. Popowich

©J. Popowich

I found the most delightful restaurant on Giesbrechstraße. Called Juleps, the owner is from Vancouver and used to live in Edmonton. They make a great martini. Brian, the owner, and I spent a while chatting about our respective lives. He runs a tight ship here; always talking with the waitresses, making sure their tables are ready. And the waitresses are pretty and friendly, but in a classy, reserved sort of way. 

On another note, I spent a bit of time here on this street because I saw an ENT specialist for my ears (Dr. Önder Göktas: 

http://www.hnozentrum-kudamm.de/ueber-uns.php

Upstairs from his office, I noticed that there was an office for the Werner Fassbinder Foundation. I figured that was interesting enough. His office was beautiful, more like a small art gallery in an old building; hardwood floors, pot lighting.  I think I was somewhat of a novelty for the staff; they treated me wonderfully, full hearing assessment and a few days later I had to have my ear drums perforated to let out the fluid and pressure.  He and I talked about clinical pathways, and his assistant (who owned an M5) was psyched about my M9.

As I was roaming up and down the straße, I noticed these small bronze ‘stones’ inlayed amongst the other cobblestones. These mark the places where people, mostly Jewish, lived and who were taken from their homes and subsequently murdered in the Camps.  On this short, quiet block alone, I counted over 50. This doesn’t include the plaque on 12 Giesbrechstrasse which marks the death of Joseph Wulf, a historian and survivor of the holocaust who had advocated for the Wannsee House to be made into a memorial and document centre.  If you’re not familiar with the Wannsee House, it’s the place where the infamous Wannsee Conference was held, chaired by SS Obergruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich. I attend conferences and retreats and business meetings on a regular basis in my own work. But the agenda at this one was the discussion and agreement on the plans for the deportation and extermination of all Jews. An excellent film, produced by HBO and starring Kenneth Branagh and Stanley Tucci describes this meeting. Called Conspiracy, I'd highly recommend it. 

But Berlin in the 1970s would have none of Wulf’s suggestion (indeed, the Holocaust was a touchier subject globally in those days), and in October of 1974, after the death of his wife and tired of overcoming the denial and the political and social inertia, Wulf threw himself from the fifth floor of his apartment.  

I looked up. Imagined a body had once fallen and landed – exactly - where I stood. This very ground. The birds chirping, sunshine emerging through the old trees, speaks nothing of the violence once witnessed here. Not just that day in 1974, but in the late 1930s and through the war.   I’m so lucky – no one comes here today to take me to my death.  

And so Berlin wears its history quietly, softly. As if a secret told within a family; part shame, part avoidance, part acceptance.

 Holocaust memorial

© 2012 J. Popowich

Children across the street from the site of the FuhrerBunker
©2012 J. Popowich

There were times, on the streets and on the patios, that I would feel lonely - but for what I wasn't exactly sure. It was part of being here, of discovering this. It’s not a bad thing – it’s good.  Anonymous and alone, amongst the stern, silent crowds of Berlin. 

Whose people only seem to truly come alive at night – they’re normally so reserved. Compared to Paris, where they talk excitedly all the time – here things are quiet for a good portion of the day. Conversations seem lower, more deliberate during the day and at night become alive and animated. The women are beautiful here, but in a different way than Paris.  In Paris, the women wear their beauty  at mid-day, in defiance of convention, in celebration. Much like I imagine Italy. But here, they wear their beauty at mid-day as a knowledge that something may happen…but later. It’s a subtle but noticeable difference. Where Paris breathes deep throughout the day and night, Berlin holds its breath, and you can feel it everywhere. Everything bad that could have happened has happened already – 90% destruction during the War, a Wall splitting the city (and the world) in half – yet there’s the smell of fear in the air as though there’s a belief that still the other shoe will drop. Probably because it’s happened so many times before, because it doesn’t know who to trust.  Perhaps that’s what I like about it…its history, its vulnerability and its uncertainty. Like a woman moving from relationship to relationship, without her own sense of self and independence.

S-bahn traffic

Lost in Thought - S-Bahn

For some time, I've wanted to improve my craft as a photographer.  I've always longed to capture the kinds of pictures that I have in my mind when I see the world around me, and the feelings those places evoke.  I've always thought that along with timing, discipline and opportunity, the mark of a good photographer is one who can turn vision into image.  

Thorsten von Overgaard

Thorsten had us all meet at a great apartment on Grolmanstraße the first evening, where we talked about ourselves, did a 'show and tell' about the equipment we've spent so much money on(!), and about our goals and ambitions with our photography.  I was the token Canadian; Yury was from Russia, Marek from Poland, Sabine from Austria, Hermann and Michael from Germany. All great people, very supportive of one another - and all Leica users. It was a real pleasure to spend the days with this group.

Hermann Schlindwein and Thorsten

Michael Juffart

Sabine Kohler - in the wonderful Paris Bar

Yury Zakharenov, looking for photos on the Kurfürstendamm

Marek Lancucki

Thorsten's instruction was simple, yet subtle, and most of the time was spent actually wandering the streets and cafes of Berlin taking pictures, being mentored, and sharing our photos and ideas.

Michael, me, Sabine, Hermann, and Yury - photo by Marek Lancucki

One of the most interesting things I experienced was just seeing the different 'eye' we all had. Similar equipment for the most part, but very different approaches and styles, and I learned a lot not only from Thorsten of course, because his experience is pretty significant, but also from my colleagues on the course.  Marek, as an architect, was the master of the 28mm lens and constantly shooting, with an eye for lines and movement. He drove me to want to shoot more with my own 28mm and to get 'in close' with the wide angle. Hermann used a 90mm quite a bit, was very focused in, and I loved the way he drew me into a scene.  Michael used a V-Lux 2 for most of the time, and showed me how a camera is secondary to the person using it, and he had a great sense of colour in his post production work. Yury impressed me with his use of the 75mm, and also with his photography outside of the workshop; I loved his shots from Cuba. Sabine's work had a charm all its own. She would quietly go about her business, surrounded by all of us guys and our chatter, and then when I'd see her shots from the day, I was quite moved. They were always of small details, a closeness.  Thorsten, being very accomplished, also blew me away with his smoothness, the amazing use of the Noctilux f1.0, and how he would reach down into any situation, at any place, and pull out a wonderful image out of what seemed like (but wasn't) nothing.   I'm not sure about my own work, but all of this spoke to the way in which photographers interact with the world, the light, how they see things.

Marek gets 'the shot' - great times on the streets of Berlin...nothing better.

Swiss photographer Matthias Frei - Paris Bar

Matthias Frei, a photographer from Switzerland and a great guy, joined us for part of the workshop, just to chat and also to spend more time at Paris Bar.  Matthias was in Berlin for the Leica M Monochrom launch on May 10th. I had a great time chatting with him, and would love to go shooting with him someday. Another great thing happened in Berlin...I was able to connect with Barbara Weiner who came in from Leipzig to visit. I hadn't seen Barbara since Mike Pollard's funeral (where I met her), and often wondered how she was managing in the face of his loss.  She hung out with us during our shoot near the end of one day and then joined us at Paris Bar.  It was great to see her, and I hope to again.

Thorsten and Barbara

So what of my photographs during the course? Naturally, I didn't take as many as I thought, and I didn't take all of the ones I'd dreamed of - those Cartier-Bresson/Robert Frank/Gary Winogrand amazing images I long for. But I did get a few that I'm proud of.

View to the Street Corner

I shot this picture from the window of the apartment, looking down on the street corner below. I was flattered later when Thorsten published it on his website, under his discussion of the Leica Monochrom. To me, there is something about this photo that says "Berlin". Old (writing on the sign, stonework), yet new (young man, cars). Angular, a man moving in a direction. 

Woman on the Kurfürstendamm

This picture was shot on the Kurfürstendamm. The woman looking at me, the youth, the movement of the others on the street; she's paused visually as she sees me, yet is still part of the landscape, integrated, yet isolated at the same time.

Woman in Bookstore

This next shot, I waited for in this bookstore; tall and elegant, this woman was moving through the stacks of books and looking for something. Her height, the curve of her leaned forward, the curve of the arch behind. 

Old Friends at Lunch

I shot this at a restaurant where we had lunch. These old friends were so engrossed in their conversation. The picture seems to say it all about their personalities; one can even imagine what they're saying.

Young Men at Paris Bar

"Young Men at Paris Bar" was a shot I sneaked to my right while sitting with Barbara and Matthias. I like the grain, the expressions, and the angular/fragmented lines in the background and foreground.

Dessert Decision

This was taken at Einstein Cafe (which was apparently the home used by Goering's mistress...). 'Dessert Decision' says it all as this young woman tries to decide which of the incredible German after-dinner treats she will have.

Late Night - Paris Bar

I love this shot of a glamourous couple at Paris Bar. It just says something to me about the great Berlin night. I loved that place...one of the most interesting restaurants I've ever been to, just because of it's vibe. 

The Fear of Goodbye

And I've saved my favourite for last. I saw this picture unfolding, and did everything I've ever wanted to do. I spent thousands of dollars just for the experience of this photo, and I would do it all again in a minute.  This goodbye, the Teutonic strength on the man's face, yet if you look closely and if you were there, he was breaking somewhat. There's something in this picture - for me - that I can't quite put my finger on. I find it ennobling, heartbreaking, tender and disturbing all at once. Perhaps that's exactly how the hard goodbyes are in our lives. They're full of thoughts crashing down, all at once. Regret, hope, fear, holding on for another minute ...all of these things. 

Next....onto Paris....