Lichtenberg Studios

As an artist-in-residence at the Lichtenberg Studios from August 6th to September 3rd 2023, I was thrown into a side of Berlin, and exposed to a part of the city, which I did not know existed. I was familiar with the city. Moving through Lichtenberg highlighted for me a whole new relationship to the city, as I reflected on the keywords ‘solitary encounters’, or, ‘fragile intimacies’ inspired by my recent research: 

1-a podcast, (‘Spaces of Solitude’, published by the Queen Mary University, UK)

2-a novel, (by Katie Kitamura titled Intimacies where the author looks at her relationship to work and to the various characters in the book).

3-The telephone booth in Tuchollaplatz, which has been converted into a mini art display gallery, (from the times of the Reich).

4-Two museum exhibitions I saw in Berlin, one about ecology, (‘Time to Listen’ at the Akademie der Kunst), and the other related to de-colonisation (at the Houses of World Cultures), which stayed with me in my thoughts and inspired my process of working.

The luxury of commuting by a highly developed public transport system, feeling safe in a large first-world urban center of the world, while inhibiting its diverse millues, as a resident for a month, further inspired me.The running theme of the residency for me, became the experience of solitude amongst people and to consider urban ecology and geography in a first world city, to add layers and new perspectives to my work as an artist. 

My days were extremely productive, immersive, and provocative. Away from home ground, I was immersed in thoughts and actions that were related to making art in public space and locating myself in the district of Lichtenberg, Berlin, as the context. While my days were spent in the district of Lichtenberg, I would engage with other neighborhoods in the evening. I felt lucky to have a few good old friends who are Berliners.

I used a very rudimentary process of drawing, mark-making, record-making, mapping, cartography, to expose the cracks and fissures in the logic and narrative of progress and development. immigrants, migrants and refugees, are the texture and fabric of the city; conflicting states of being and identity, belonging and longing. I spent my days in the parks, making rubbings of tree barks, making drawings in plain air, using found sticks and objects as drawing tools, making collections and little assemblages, enjoying summer sun picnics, and observing the reactions of passers by who chanced upon me making these records of my time. These collections of rubbings have become a vital record, a map, and a tracing. The tenderness of touching or hugging trees, and making impressions of the textures on the bark surface, was experienced as an encounter with the surface, exposing the scars and marks of time.

Berlin for me always represented the best of urban citizenship with care given to public life and public spaces. The citizens of the City and visitors alike enjoy green space and states of solitude as well as spaces for community gathering. I observed, every park in Lichtenberg or Berlin has a playground, a trash bin, a natural or man-made water body, a historical monument, a book exchange booth, and clean public restrooms.

My time in the Lichtenberg Residency allowed me to explore urban ecology. Recording my time by making tracings and rubbings of trees in parks, and drawing what I observed, was my response to transforming terror into tenderness, joy, care and peace.

When I started cooking, I used to cook just for myself. I was 21 years old, and my meals were basic – rice, lentils, recipes my mom had taught me. Cooking for oneself is an act of self-love, but as the years went by, I realized that sharing my food with others helped me make friends, bridge cultures, and provided a sense of community comfort that I had not experienced before. The act of eating together brings people together.

Kitchens, to me, have been a space of refuge. As someone who had a nomadic upbringing, being in these spaces gave me a great sense of finding an identity and bonding across different spectrums of cultures, interacting with people I would have never met. In Lichtenberg, the fridge was stocked with capers, mustard, beer, and cucumber pickles – a combination of ingredients I’d probably never see in my fridge back in India. I didn’t have any friends in Berlin. Yet, this unfamiliar kitchen felt familiar. The pans, onions, and garlic were all similar to what I would find at home. Berlin is vast and complex, a city with multiple layers that seemed too complicated for me to peel. I wanted to bridge the gap between me and the city through food. I wanted to understand its people, where they came from, what they did for a living, their histories, and what constituted their identity. This project for me was something deeply personal and a gateway into understanding the intricacies of the people of Berlin.

I went around different parts of the city, finding so much love and warmth in lovely Berlin homes. Peter and his lovely daughter Heidi cooked potatoes for me while discussing their summer holiday plans, keeping me in the loop and explaining to me how hot summer is in Berlin. Michael invited me to his home in Lichtenberg, which used to be a chair factory. While flipping Kartoffelpuffer, he talked about his music career and how he started cooking only after the pandemic. Suzanne and her husband, Heiko, invited me to a lovely meal with their children where they made me aubergines and told me how they met each other in university. They shifted to Berlin for a better life and now have a small hut to keep their quails and eat fresh eggs every day. Silke recounted her life story of how she spent years escaping East Germany before the wall and landed herself in West Berlin to create a successful life as an artist. She had published a cookbook where she stored all of her grandmother’s recipes to remember her and her childhood. Thomas and his wife cooked me a lovely meal with cucumbers and pork and told me how they had lived in the east their entire lives. When the wall was broken, they packed everything in their cars and went to the west to meet their relatives for a week.

These are a few of the many stories I’d gathered. I became close to the inhabitants of this beautiful city as they kept feeding me and shared a part of their lives with me. This project taught me the kindness of strangers through food and showed me an entire culture of Berlin I would have missed out on if I had eaten in public spaces. This project reinforced the idea that food knows no borders and that it can always bring people together. It is truly a universal language of commensality.