This last location also dates back to the 1936 Olympic Games, though I was particularly interested in its history of political dissent.
Designed by Ernst Sagebiel, who also worked on Tempelhof, the airfield was constructed for the aviation events of the Summer Olympics, as well as an aviation school. Though incomparable in scale, there are parallels in the designs of Rangsdorf and Tempelhof, such as the tall windows, central totemic tower and the repetitive vertical lines which give the building a sense of extending across the horizon. Both combine the sleekness of modernism and the authoritarian repetition and subjective feeling of smallness associated with monumentalism.
When the war broke out, the airfield was temporarily used as Berlin's main passenger airport. It was then used to construct and station military aircraft, and additional halls were added alongside the central building.
Rangsdorf is, however, mostly renowned as a significant location in the July 1944 attempted assassination of Hitler.
The July 20th Plot was the last of many attempts to assassinate the Führer, before he retreated from public appearances and visits to Berlin. It can be traced back to 1942, when a new conspiratorial group was formed, led by Colonel Henning von Tresckow and Major General Hans Oster. The group became a particularly effective network after the recruitment of Friedrich Olbricht, who was head of the General Army Office headquarters.
Attempts were made by the group on 13 March 1943, 21 March 1943, November 1943, February 1944 and 11 March 1944, though the July 20th attempt was the first and only to injure the Führer, less than a year before his suicide.
The assassination was attempted by nazi officer Claus von Stauffenberg, who had started forming plans after the battle of Stalingrad in December 1942. It was part of larger plans to instate a coup, named Operation Valkyrie, due to Germany's diminishing success in the war and international cooperation.
On the morning of 20th July, Stauffenberg finalised preparations for the coup at Rangsdorf, before flying to the Wolfsschanze (or Wolf's Lair) for a military conference, armed with two bombs in his briefcase. At 12:30pm, as the conference began, he asked to be excused to change his shirt. In the bathroom, he armed the first bomb, but was interrupted by an officer informing him that the conference had begun before setting up the other. He returned to the conference room and placed the bomb under the table, near Hitler. A few minutes later, Stauffenberg received a planned telephone call and left the room. As he heard the bomb detonate, he drove off with his aide, got on his plane and returned to Rangsdorf Airfield.
By the time of his return, however, the news had already broke. Though the briefcase was placed next to the Führer, it had been moved by another officer after taking Stauffenberg's place at the table. Upon detonation, the bomb demolished the conference room, killed the stenographer and injured twenty attendees, including three critically. In a twisted turn of fate, Hitler was protected by a table leg, bursting his eardrum, ripping through his trousers and leading to conjunctivitis in his right eye. Shocked by the explosion, but very much alive.
Though not the central location in this incident, Rangsdorf carries much emotional weight in this historical moment. Wandering the grounds, I imagined of the anxiety Stauffenberg must have experienced as he prepared to depart to the Wolf's Lair, briefcase in hand. I sensed the anticipation racing through the other conspirators, as they went over plans for the coup and waited for news about the assassination. I then pictured Stauffenberg returning a few hours later, feeling a false sense of accomplishment for hours, only to realise how fate had played out.
Less than a year later, Rangsdorf Airfield was taken over by the Red Army. It was used for training until the mid fifties and to repair airships all the way until 1994. During that time, modifications were made to the airfield that could still be seen today. An engine test building was constructed next to the airport tower. Plastic mouldings were fitted onto
the ceiling, most of which now littered the floors. The hammer and sickle could still be made out on the walls, as well as many signs from the soviet era. Newspapers were plastered on the walls, previously acting as insulation. Many had torn off, so I was able to bring fragments home to incorporate into my painting. Among the fragments, which dated back to 1988, I found photos of Gorbachev, a cosmonaut, ballet dancers (in the painting, they can be perceived through the foliage in the background), race car drivers, factory workers… I have been meaning to incorporate collage into my paintings for a while, and discovering these newspapers pushed me to do so organically.
More than with any other location, I was fascinated by the layers of history that overlapped in Rangsdorf. From the historical significance of Operation Valkyrie, to the everyday snapshots of history found throughout the building, it epitomised the archival power of abandoned spaces, capturing that indescribable feeling of awe towards being in the world. Alongside these historical snapshots, I was enamored by the ways in which the building had been reclaimed by nature. The central hall acted as a greenhouse, causing a small grove to form, which reached towards the ceiling and gradually blocked access to the other rooms. Watching new growths striving for life, you could feel the process of natural reclaiming in constant motion. And as I listened to birds nested in the rooftop, muffled by the gusts of wind hammering at the walls, I felt myself projected towards a time when nature will have fully taken over.
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