Urban Ruins in Berlin

Berlin has long been a centre for urban exploration, largely due to its recent political history. As one form of government was replaced with another, new buildings were erected only to be left abandoned, each telling a story of the time they were built. This made the city a hub for urban explorers, who were drawn towards these ruins for their fascinating history and aesthetic wonder.

Though many cult locations no longer remain, the legacy of these urban ruins lives on. Throughout Berlin, abandoned building have been converted into nightclubs, events centres, indefinable pop-up spaces, museums.

Berlin's tumultuous past also makes many of these locations layered in their histories. For instance, one of the following locations, Rangsdorf Airfield, was originally constructed for the infamous 1936 Summer Olympics. During World War II, it was a plotting point for a failed coup and assassination of Hitler. Yet, the building I visited told stories of a different time. Along the walls, Soviet newspapers had been plastered - presumably to act as insulation.These dated back to 1988, at which point the airfield was used by the Soviet Air Forces who continued operations until 1994. This brings to mind Mark Fisher's notion of "lost futures", or past imaginings of the future which never came to be. As these histories accumulate, lost timelines are layered upon these sites, imbuing them with our past hopes for the future.

For this residency, I was interested both in buildings with specific historical significance and in more mundane locations, that tell everyday stories or epitomise a specific style of architecture, inviting you to project yourself into Berlin's past. I wanted to see how these new locations would expand and question my understanding of urban ruins, and eventually build a body of work that captures the variety of impressions these locations imparted upon me, ranging between childlike wonder, meditative stillness, eeriness, nostalgia…

I first visited a couple locations in my neighbourhood, in North East Berlin - Güterbahnhof Pankow, a railyard used between 1893 and 1997, and Pankow Schwimmhalle (I), a swimming pool that was open from 1971 to 2002. I next visited locations which offered tours and paid entrance: Flughafen Tempelhof (II), a nazi-built airport active from 1934 to 2007... an anti-aircraft Flak Tower that was destroyed and buried under rubble at the end of WWII... and Teufelsberg (III), a US Spy Station, also built upon wartime ruins, active from 1962 until the end of the Cold War. I then journeyed across S-Bahn Siemensbahn (IV), a railway line active from 1929 to 1980 that originally stretched 4.5km. I explored Chemiewerk Rüdersdorf (V), a gigantic factory complex which was active from 1899 to 1999. Lasltly, I travelled to Olympischer Dorf, Elstal (VI), and Rangsdorf Airfield (VII), both of which were built for the 1936 Summer Olympics.

This journal lies somewhere between a diary, a travel guide and an essay. It acts both as research into the abandoned architecture I visited during my residency in Berlin, an exercise in creative writing, and as a broader reflection on the sublimity of these modern ruins. Writing and rewriting artist statements over time has helped me pin down some of my feelings towards abandoned buildings. Still, I struggle to concisely put these on paper. Words fall short at conveying the great sense of awe engendered by these urban ruins - which is where, I hope, the paintings come in.

I - Pankow Railyard and Pankow Swimming Hall

I arrived in Berlin in the midst of a blazing September heatwave - a pleasant surprise after a disappointingly mellow Scottish summer. After some sightseeing, I started off my project with a few locations in my neighbourhood, in North East Berlin.

I first visited Güterbahnhof Pankow, a rail yard which was built in 1893 and ceased operations in 1997.

The rail yard was situated near the S-Bahn station it once served, and through a row of allotments. I wasn’t able to access the main hall as a redevelopment project had recently begun. Behind the hall, however, I spotted an arch-shaped building which still appeared abandoned. In the centre rested a wheelhouse, once used to stabled trains inside the surrounding building. The wheelhouse was raised by about a metre causing rainfall to form a shallow pond over the years, which had since been populated by water lilies, frogs and small fish. I played around with levers which surprisingly could still be manipulated, before settling by the pond. After moving my hands around the water, I took out my sketchbook. As summer graciously came to a close, I reflected on the journey ahead.

Later that day, I took the tram to Pankow Schwimmhalle, a swimming hall that had been active from 1971 to 2002.

This building was far eerier than my previous stop and had been severely vandalised, with smashed glass glistening across the floor. While in the railyard, I could dip my toes in the pond, this swimming pool was instead filled with furniture and leftover beer bottles. I tried to have a look at the spa and sauna area in the basement, but the creeps got the best of me and I decided to call it a day.

Descending into these ruins, my perception of time was noticeably altered, in multiple and conflicting ways.

There was a sense of travelling into the past, as though you had opened a time capsules. There was a feeling of travelling out of time, in entering a space that follows a very different rhythm to the rest of urban life. All the while, nature had taken over, creating the uncanny sensation of being transported to distant futures. And as I noticed how these buildings had changed over the years, which was emphasised by the corroded industrial architecture of the rail yard and the vandalism in the swimming hall, I felt grounded in the ever-changing present.

Though architecturally or historically, neither building was particularly outstanding, I was fascinated by the clear visual traces of when they were once in use (the control room in the wheelhouse, the lanes in the swimming pool...) and the everyday stories they evoked. Standing in the rail yard, I imagined workers carrying on cargo, a controller making sure wagons were parked correctly, a driver finishing his workday and heading home... In the swimming hall, an admittedly more familiar site, I could picture a child taking his first swimming lesson, mothers gossiping on the side of the pool, a woman rushing in after work to squeeze in her daily exercise...

In a strange way, these first abandoned locations allowed me to ground myself in my surroundings. I appreciated their mundanity, which gave them a certain relatability and allowed me to tackle this project from a point of familiarity - albeit, reflected through this eerie and desolate mirror.

II - Tempelhof Airport and Tempelhof Field

I next visited a few buildings which offered tours or paid entry. I first went on a tour of Flughafen Tempelhof, the infamous airport built in 1934. Tempelhof was among the twenty largest buildings on Earth at the time of construction, acting as a symbol of the Nazi Party's international ambitions. However, the project’s aspirations were never fully realised: the building, shaped like an arc, was originally meant to form a full circle. This would have made it the world's largest building by floor size, but it had to be cut down due to the building’s astronomical costs.

After World War II, Tempelhof continued to serve as the largest airport in Germany, acting as the meeting point between West Berlin and the rest of the world. In 1948, Tegel Airport was constructed, as the runway at Tempelhof was too small to accommodate relief aircrafts during the Berlin Airlift. After expanding in 1974, Tegel (which has now also ceased operations) became Berlin's main airport, at which point Tempelhof was relegated to US Army operations. Since closing, parts of the building are now occasionally used as an exhibition centre and as police headquarters.

Though I was fascinated by the history of the building, Tempelhof Airport didn't quite elicit the same sense of awe due to how well it has been maintained since its closing in 2007. Though the building acts as a time capsule, its maintenance undeniably undermines that sense of sublimity the building might have otherwise had. Being taken on a tour also invariably takes away from feelings of discovery and of travelling through time. Though given the size of the airport, I can’t imagine that letting people to wander about would end well. This is not to dismiss the conservation work involved, as the building is without a doubt a fascinating historical artefact, or the work that goes in organising the tour. The building just wasn’t what I was looking for.

Whereas Tempelhof itself didn't evoke that feeling of the sublime, I found myself entranced by the airport’s runway. Round the back of the airport, Tempelhofer Feld spans into the distance, for 355 hectars. While this makes it the largest park in Berlin, it is a mostly barren field. Hay bales are evenly placed into the distance evoking a something of a rural pasture. At the height of this heatwave, however, the complete lack of foliage and long, empty runways make it feel more like a Hitchcock film than a Monet painting.

Whereas one felt watched in Tempelhof Airport, which isn’t helped by the fact that part of the building is now used as police headquarters, there is a great sense of freedom in the airfield. As you journey across these barren lands, you feel a great sense of discovery when you do stumble upon something – an old aircraft, a disused electric plant, a training base for the US Army... These are all fenced off, however, and given these are essentially the back gardens of the police headquarters, I go on my merry way.

Since Tempelhof’s closure, Tempelhofer Feld has been an area of contestation between private planners and activists. In 2014, Berliners voted in a referendum to ban construction in the field, with 68.2 per cent of voters in favour. Since then, community-led projects have adorned the edges of the field: a sports field, a circus, an artsy community garden, a minigolf course… There’s an element of DIY to most of these projects and you feel a strong sense of community as you wander through them. The rest of the field is mostly used for cycling and playing sports. Future plans for the park remain in the air. In April 2024, a committee of randomly selected Berliners was formed to discuss future plans for the park. Housing seems to be on top of the agenda, to activists’ disappointment.