Wir, Gewaltsamen, wir währen länger.
Aber wann, in welchem aller Leben.
sind wir endenlich offen und Empfänger?
Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus, II, V
Now that I think back on my experiences in Berlin of last October, I’m compelled to direct my attention to the Schrebergärten I fortuitously discovered in Lichtenberg. As much as the Hamburger
Bahnhof, Gemäldegalerie, Bode Museum, C/O Berlin, Neue Nationalgalerie, Gedenkstätte Berlin-Hohenschönhausen, Jüdisches Museum Berlin, and others made a deep impression on me, I realize
now that it was the presence of nature as expressed in the exuberant foliage and vibrant colors of the Schrebergärten that really captured my imagination, and held me in their spell.
Seeing the sun rise from the studio in Lichtenberg at dawn called forth Romantic impulses I’d never felt before in any city’s confines. I would pedal out quickly on my bike to the Sans Soucis cluster of
gardens and maisonettes 10 minutes away. The early morning light combined with the moisture from the dew sharpened the textures and concentrated the colors, increasing their saturation several fold, intensifying unexpectedly my perceptions. Yes, color would dominate and seal my residency! Moreover the fertility of the dark earth once uncovered astounded me. That black loam permitted intensive planting guided by personal fantasy and passion. No aesthetic model nor design doctrine appeared to control the plot’s layout nor the selection of fruit, vegetable or flower varieties. The one authority to intervene in the organization could only be personal and idiosyncratic, demonstrating subjective delight.
These were “Green” citizens on the loose with the freedom to enhance their lives with the nourishment of the freshest vegetable and fruits, as well as bouquets for the table. The care administered to the combination of certain seasonal vegetable and fruits reassured me of the primacy of the seasons. Moreover, the rustic dwellings, the ad-hoc constructions, and vernacular inventions were tangible proof that architecture without architects can astonish as well as serve a purpose.
Even the birdhouses bristled with artisanal ingenuity. Comfort has myriad expressions in these communities verging on the surreal. Each morning would bring its fresh discoveries, a new bloom here, a ripened green there, a fruit fallen to the ground, the passage of birds, the insistent call to migration of the honking geese – all this available to passerby’s. Peering over the fences allowed me to absorb enough chromatic energy to fuel the entire day. Remarkable daily sustenance quite physical as well as mental. I had to catch a glimpse of what had transpired in the course of my absence. Had a frost covered the ground, what new bird had arrived or left, were the sunflower seeds falling yet? And the liberty to wander from impression to impression and photograph quickly without the trying nuisance of guard dogs barking out their territory. In fact, anyone with eyes could enter this parceled realm from an inclusive distance and stare in admiration, perhaps even in awe, at the wonders of natural world.
All pictures: Mark Lyon, Berlin 2024
