Berlin 2015: IG@sonatatoyan Since I have relocated to #Berlin, I have repeatededly been asked, "Why Berlin?"
Yes - it is arguably THE art city in the world right now -- full of artists every which way, pushing boundaries, drinking in the expansiveness this place offers supported by an affordable life.
Yes - it is architecturally delicious-- a living testament to the tragedies it has undergone, survived and rebuilt from.
Yes- it actively engages its dark pasts-- memorializing them at every turn ... the furthest thing from denial and active revisionism.
But for me, the layers go beyond these obvious treasures. To be in a city full of so many Turkish people, where nearly every cab driver I've had, or local bodega owner is an opportunity to engage in the wound between us. Where, on Monday, I walked into a Turkish bookstore near Kottsbusser Damm and learned the owner's grandmother was Armenian, and the only other customer's grandmother also ... from Urfa, where my grandfather was from. And here, once we learned this, we just stared at each other in this corner of Europe and wept, hugged and then drank chai and ate knefeh and when it was time to leave he insisted on driving me to where I had to be. This elderly man whom I met moments before and could've been my own grandfather, led me down the brilliant autumn streets of Kreuzberg and sighed gently about "hayat" ... life.
Berlin allows me to process, because Berlin is in a perpetual state of processing ... of digesting ... of transformation. Berlin is a place of alchemy. Berlin takes dark matter, welcomes it over and over, allows it to come to light and dazzle as gold ...
Berlin is a monument to resilience. And that is something for which I have the deepest respect.
Yes - it is arguably THE art city in the world right now -- full of artists every which way, pushing boundaries, drinking in the expansiveness this place offers supported by an affordable life.
Yes - it is architecturally delicious-- a living testament to the tragedies it has undergone, survived and rebuilt from.
Yes- it actively engages its dark pasts-- memorializing them at every turn ... the furthest thing from denial and active revisionism.
But for me, the layers go beyond these obvious treasures. To be in a city full of so many Turkish people, where nearly every cab driver I've had, or local bodega owner is an opportunity to engage in the wound between us. Where, on Monday, I walked into a Turkish bookstore near Kottsbusser Damm and learned the owner's grandmother was Armenian, and the only other customer's grandmother also ... from Urfa, where my grandfather was from. And here, once we learned this, we just stared at each other in this corner of Europe and wept, hugged and then drank chai and ate knefeh and when it was time to leave he insisted on driving me to where I had to be. This elderly man whom I met moments before and could've been my own grandfather, led me down the brilliant autumn streets of Kreuzberg and sighed gently about "hayat" ... life.
Berlin allows me to process, because Berlin is in a perpetual state of processing ... of digesting ... of transformation. Berlin is a place of alchemy. Berlin takes dark matter, welcomes it over and over, allows it to come to light and dazzle as gold ...
Berlin is a monument to resilience. And that is something for which I have the deepest respect.
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