Or this one: the trickle of water from a Wallace fountain taken with a macro lens at close range with a very short DOF.
Droplets on a banister.
A whirlwind of cables in a data centre (a picture taken for a client of mine).
Data centres make for great photography.
Today’s photo challenge is “half and half” so I chose a few pictures cut in the middle. I was spoiled for choice today. Above is a shop keeper having a smoke at her door-step.
Berlin steps, outside the Bundestag building.
Olafur Eliasson’s installation at the Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris.
Reflection of a street off the rooftop of a parked car in Prague.
The encounter of two groups of horsemen on “Sword Beach” in Normandy.
When the good people from the dailypost photo challenge came up with this idea of “symbol“, I thought ‘oh my! I’ll never make it.’ Then as I was furrowing in my files, I landed on my Berlin Flickr album and it all started making sense. Even more so after seeing Labyrinth des Schweigens on Sunday (the Labyrinth of Silence, weirdly translated as “the labyrinth of lies” even though it is true too, that is was a labyrinth of lies). A gripping and horrifying story. It is true that Berlin is full of symbols. Not all good ones I’m afraid. Let’s start reviewing them. All starts with the symbol of the fight between France and Germany (Yeah! Once again) and Napoleon stealing the charriot on Brandenburger Tor, then Germans taking it back from Paris and the arch of triumph becoming Berlin’s symbol of Nazi Germany before it ended up right in the middle of the no-man’s land (the Wall on its western side, barbed wire on its eastern side, no one was able to go there for 37 years). Talk about symbols.
A stone’s throw from the Gate, a recent monument was set up (2005): the memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe. A beautifully stern and moving monument. I took quite a few pictures, if only to remember all those people who were recklessly murdered (hence the above).
Let them be remembered. Always.
I found the monument inspiring and moving. Not everyone agrees.
As I wanted to take a better picture of the monument, I climbed on one of the stelae, and a security man came to me very angry. I didn’t mean wrong though. Half of Berlin’s children were jumping from Stela to Stela and it didn’t seem to annoy anyone. I kept the picture, maybe it’s another symbol. Who knows.
Here and there you will find cobbles replaced with these much smaller memorials to slaughtered families and people. When I saw that I felt absolutely terrible and almost ashamed I was a tourist in that area. And as I was crouching on the ground to take pictures, people were passing by without even noticing. Hier Wohnte Max Sommerfeld. How accusing such a simple sentence. Symbols. Symbols.
Symbols do abound in Berlin. And I must admit I always have that issue with Germany, of which I speak the language even though badly, this must be pointed out. I am very much attracted to both German culture and language and history. My love for German music knows no bounds. I always find it so peaceful there, it’s like jumping back in time. I remember finding myself in Nürnberg and it was so quiet and peaceful it reminded me of my small town when I was a kid. All quiet. Nürnberg. Can you think of it? No, you can’t wipe that out. Certainly not Nürnberg. Berlin is like that. You can’t help loving it, it’s brilliant. It’s so up and coming, so cosmopolitan, so everything. And then you read Geoff Walden’s page and you find out that traces of that filth are everywhere. Talk about symbols.
Let’s take Charlottenburg for instance. Brilliant isn’t it. That elegant 18th century building is great for a stroll on the hop on hop of bus isn’t it? OK, it was severely damaged during WWII and rebuilt from 1950 onwards. as shown underneath but who cares about that now?
Yet opposite the palace there were a couple of handsome 18th century buildings. Looking closer I found an inscription about the purpose of that building: the Nazi military police school, at which Klaus Barbie (famous for torturing many people and murdering French resistance Chief Jean Moulin) amongst many of these monsters were trained. Oops. Let me get back on that hop on hop off bus please.
It looks like Germany is made prisoner of its past, it cannot escape it, these people are trapped. We are trapped too. We are part of this history. Not all of our people were brave either. Not everyone can be a hero. OK, it’s a bit feeble but we have to find excuses don’t we?
More of the same with the infamous “Reichstag” (I have a problem with that word, why on earth aren’t they calling it Bundestag!?). At least that one was burned down by Hitler himself. It can’t be a symbol for the forces of evil then. Phew!
Yet, there is more to it. Not only Berlin has to cope with its grim past, but half of the City was East German, hence the green “Ampelmann” (i.e. traffic light man literally) which shows that you would have been in East Berlin. From one dictatorship to the next. More symbols.
More dead people, more persecution, more evil. The stains left by that wall and the partition of Germany at large are not always visible. But they are in all people’s minds. They still have difficulties coming to terms with this other part of their past.
The ubiquitous Fernsehturm (TV tower) in “Alex” (Alexander Platz). Surrounded by those pink and mauve pipes which are in fact permanent: a means of pumping the water in the soil and sending it back to rivers and canals. Very strange for a country versed in engineering. Half of France and Britain were built on swamps. Versailles was built on swamps. Why on earth would you want to do that? These pipes have become a new symbol for Berlin now. And they make for beautiful photography.
As high as the Eiffel Tower
You can’t miss it.
But the country has changed. Fortunately. Foreigners have given it a different and more enthusiastic flavour. Like these young Turks celebrating a wedding at BrandenburgerTor. A symbol in front of another symbol, and life can almost go on as if nothing had happened.
Doors come in different shapes and forms. They are passages. Even though, sometimes, as in this picture of a Catalonian door, they can be very small and crooked.
They are sometimes adorned with details. In Denfert Rochereau, the emblem of which is the proud Lion of Belfort, what else would you want on your door knob?
Their colours can be striking too, as in Normandy, and their names can be funny at times (“Bichette” means “little doe”)
Very weird names indeed.
In Senlis, the old medieval town, some of the doors are painted turquoise and you’d almost think you are in York or Skipton, not a stone’s throw from the French capital.
Doors are sometimes open too. As in this secret passage to the secret bar “Le Perchoir” in Menilmontant. There are no signs for this bar, word of mouth – and an open door – does it all.
Doors can sometimes be transparent and passers-by seen from the inside.
Lastly, they can sometimes be very small, yet take you very high as this door to an early twentieth century lighthouse in Normandy.
What subject am I repeatedly taking pictures of? At first, I was a little puzzled when I discovered the topic submitted last night by the good people at the Daily Post photo challenge. And then it came to my mind that as the “official” photographer of my friends from the Paris Darius Milhaud Choir (of which I used to be a member), I tend to take quite a few pictures of the musicians and choirs. To begin with, the conductor of the Paris Orsay Symphonic Orchestra, Martin Barral.
The choir, like a genie coming out of a tuba.
At an open air concert in Ormesson, set in a sand quarry in the middle of the forest in Fontainebleau.
A reflection of the attendance in a window (Notre de Dame du Travail, Paris 14)
The orchestra from being the stage
My friends from the Darius Milhaud choir.
Schumann’s requiem is a must-have for music lovers.
As if you were in the orchestra.
Alexander Platz (aka “Alex”) and its unmissable TV tower (Fernsehturm auf Deutsch) was meant to be a symbol of Communist GDR when it was built in the 1960s. Little did they know at the time that the area would become the epicentre of luxury shops and trendy restaurants, some of which are hidden in the nondescript 1960s post Bauhaus buildings behind the tower. A bit ironic in a way, and the “Turm” is still a landmark (no wonder, it is 68m higher than the Eiffel tower at 368m high, you can’t miss it from anywhere in the City). Here are a few shots.
From Chausseestraße (the first street to be liberated in 1989)
Ditto, with a different angle
The pink pipes are also a landmark of Berlin. They are meant to be pumping water from the soil because Berlin was built on wetland and pumping, till today, is still needed. Sounds to me like a pretty weak explanation because I can hardly think of a city not built on wetland. The infamous “Slough” in Berkshire to start with, whose name wasn’t even changed (fancy living in a City named Swamp?)
The Palace of Versailles was, for instance, built over a swamp. The whole area had to be drained and was mostly a nasty unhealthy place before the chateau was built.
“Starting in 1661, he [The Sun King] transformed a humble hunting lodge into a glittering palace. He drained swamps and moved whole forests to create 250 acres of formal gardens, tree-lined paths, flowerbeds, lakes, and fountains. And this filled only a small portion of the grounds — the entire estate covered 2,000 acres.