For this Assignment I did a mixture of digital images of postcards as well as images that I took and wrote about at the time. The writing in italics is what I remembered doing in between these images.
Image #1
Clear blue sky, hot, tired, bright colors pierce through. Each image jarring. To preserve or let history take its course what is right/wrong. People shuffling across in line. Names… “베안트 * 옥순” “시우 2009” Found Korean names. Trying to make a mark on history.
A little boy in his underwear runs to a tree looks around and pees in the bushes. I take a picture. Perfect.
Image #2
Random artifical beach bar in the middle of one of Berlin’s industrial centers. Weird but very cool huh? A place that provides a space for kids playing and screaming in their underwear… TO make it more “real” its by a small river that runs through Berlin. Random coconuts on the ground. Who did this? Kids Corner!
Crunch, crunch, crunch, Another dry stick strewn along the path. I jumped on them. I stomped on them. I made a game like “step on a crack and break your momma’s back” except it was more like “take your pick and step on that stick!” Trying to take my mind off my exhaustion I stepped on any dry branches that were in my path after discovering the satisfying sound they made as well as the cracking feel under my feet.
Image #3
The sound of the leaves rustle together..Shh. Shh Shh. Quiet. Solemn. Don’t speak. Just listen.
Annoyed. A trip that was only meant for the grocery store and the bank ended up being an exchursion. We stopped at that souvenir shop and that souvenir shop and had to wait for stragglers. I remember impatience. Irrational impatience that came from exhaustion. “You guys we are just going to leave…” “Okay if you guys can’t wait then you guys should just leave” “well…how long do you think it will take?” “they are almost done, but if you guys can’t wait then its okay” “well…we will just wait.”
Image #4
Sticks out like a painting. So beautiful its unreal…2D. Flat. No its real. Sun shines perfectly illuminating the imperfections that make the Berliner Dome stand out. The imperfections that only come with time. Cool breeze…Green grass…Couple laying together. Italian family take pictures and laugh at a joke that of course I don’t understand. Classmates sitting in concentration, trying to describe the Berliner Dome all at the same time but with different interpretations. I wonder what they are writing…
I was walking briskly to the U-bahn because once again I only had a couple of minutes left before the meeting time when I hear somebody calling to me. I look around and see two men in the tennis courts to my left asking for help. They spoke to me in German but switched to English when they realized I did not. They told me that their ball was underneath one of the cars. Me, impatient for time just looked underneath the cars, didn’t see anything, and wanted to move on. “I don’t see it!” But then I decided to take a more careful look and the ball was stuck deep inside by a tire. I tried to get on my hands and knees to get it but I couldn’t. I stood up in defeat, “Sorry guys!!”
Image #5
Crowded room. The smell of concrete and dust invade my senses. Old rickety beds and suitcases lined up as if they are ready to be taken somewhere and a small tiny suitcase, brown, worn by age…was it for a small child? I smell and feel fear. Laughter, I see my classmates laughing. Nothing is funny. This is not funny.
I bought a sandwich from a store in the U-Bahn and inside this sandwich was monstrous amounts of mayonnaise. Amy thought she was going to throw up but I, I enjoyed this mayonnaise. The mayonnaise that gave my sandwich flavor, the mayonnaise that made my sandwich soggy, the mayonnaise that probably gave my body an injection of unnecessary bad fat and cholesterol. Sandwich, I enjoyed you.
Image #6
Eye contact. I make eye contact with some trying to see what their reactions are. Some eyes flit away. Brown. Peeling paint. Pictures many flashes. You cannot talk here. Just walk and absorb, feel, imagine. Terror. Exhaustion. Hopelessness. Hungry. A place once strictly for Jews and their tormentors… now tourists walk through, disconnected. Can we even imagine what this felt like?
Another potluck. Amy made two huge plates of stir fry, Fan made soup, and Elroy made pasta. With our cheap wine and beer in tow we gathered around the table and devoured the food until nothing was left. This Potluck depleted my food supply.
Image #7
Café on the side, vendor sells icecream. Man in striped T-shirt buys walnut icecream, the kind I like and want right now…waiting to go inside, what is inside? So curious. Couple holding hands, one slides hand in backpocket of the other, I always wanted to do that…People waiting in line…I would like our tour to start.
Chipping concrete, painted gold pictures of guardian beasts etched in a pattern on towering walls--horses, lions, a skinny creature with an odd tail, bird feet, and skinny narrow head-- surrounding them a royal blue. Small flowers make the border, is it gold, or is it just another color but faded with age? I look in awe…
Image #8
Feels like home. Cafes, cafes feel like home. Two Turkish men sitting at the bar. What are they talking about? I wish I knew. American students with their laptops, working on assignments that are probably related to their program. I empathize. Coffee. My creamy delicious coffee. The waitress, always hair in ponytail, served me my very first day…walks by, I smile but she doesn’t notice.
In the U-Bahn a little girl dressed in a checkered purple dress, dashes in and out through her parent’s legs. Wisps of her light brown hair goes every which way and surrounds her face like a little glowing halo. I smile. She smiles back with a coy and shy smile that captivates me. She looks away and looks back and we begin to play the eye game. Who will look? Who will look away? For how long and when?
Image #9
The smell of cigarette smoke invades my senses. Old Turkish men in faded suits sit at one table. Coffee? Tea? I don’t know how to think of the place. A café? A restaurant. For some reason, although there are tables, a bar, and I imagine some kind of menu to serve food, the place looks like neither. It’s empty. Flat screen T/V keeps showing the same image of a Turkish woman in white, possibly a singer, dressed scantily over and over again.
“Hey Anna, do you still have that sepia-toned picture that you took of me?” Fan asks. “O! I accidently erased it thinking I had already copied it onto my computer!” Fan really wanted a candid and beautiful picture that I took of her one day waiting in front of the Stasi Museum. However, I had somehow erased it and so I began to try taking candid pictures of her again.
Fan replied to my efforts, “It’s not going to work again, it’s not going to be the same...”
Image #10
Quiet, peaceful, beautiful. Sun shines on tombstones, illuminating the garden with light. Then a couple of seconds pass by and its gone. Wind blows and strands of hair float up and away. White, gold, marble, intricate designs, a holy place. Trees rustle. Cars rushing by beyond the gates.
Cravings for Burger King always hits in the airport. All of a sudden I see burger king hats on the tops of people’s heads. The paper crowns, silly and funny, but only for a while. Hello, we are Americans, ate a fast food meal, and now are proudly showing where we ate on our heads. Some wore these hats all throughout the plane ride.
Image #11
Bum. Exhausted Worker? Dead? As Orhan talks on about the history of...I write because quite frankly this is more interesting at the moment. People walk and talk, acting like they don’t notice. His arm is right next to me. Why is he sprawled on this bench in the middle of the day?
I had bargained a ring from 85 lira to 45 lira but couldn’t get the ring any lower. I did not like it as much anyways and decided to give it up. The merchant urged that it was a “good price.” I did not agree and stated that I did not want the ring anymore.
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Is it possible to take a picture with you at least?”
Taken a bit off guard, I stumble with my words and agree. I come over and he puts one arm around me and with his cell phone takes a picture. He crows with delight and shows all of his merchant friends the picture he had taken. It wasn’t a great picture, and it certainly wasn’t a great picture of me but I seemed to have made his day even without the purchase of his too expensive, possibly fake ring.
Image #12
Trash strewn everywhere. Cats. Men walk by, exhausted, wrinkly skin, brown, poor. The ghetto, the alleways. Who does clean-up? Why are these alleyways covered in trash that can clearly be picken up? Vendor, black cloth spread out, the “evil eye” everywhere. Bracelets, key chains, earings, stickers. Evil eye, evil eye, evil eye. Pitiful makeshift stores spread out on trash. This is real. Does the evil eye protect you old man?
Exhausted. I sit down by the curb trying to rest my legs. Hawkers of all ages show their trinkets over and over again like an automated machine. Some looking up, some looking down. Can the little boy, selling the bright and colorful tops, make a living off of these useless wares? What about that man selling a small handheld sowing contraption? Or that man selling scarves and wooden flutes?
Image #13
Up close cobbles stone walkways. Trees scattered, incoherent conversations, a mans voice booming in a speakerphone. Honk honk. Beep beep. Car horns honking nonstop. Odd drum noises in the distance People milling about everywhere while we sit on the sidewalk a vendor passes me by. Busy. The mosque is busy and is not open for free for the public. Twenty for locals ten for foreigners…
Puddles of water on the sidewalk. I’m confused. Its unbearably hot and no sign of rain so where did all this water come from? I jump to avoid the puddles, annoyed and unwilling to get my feet wet. The water was muddy anyways.
Image #14
Beautiful majestic grassy areas for people to rest and relax. Cool breeze feels so good on hot day. Postcard can’t compare to the beauty of seeing it in real life. The mosque stone is of a cool blue color, flowers dot the front of the courtyard. People come to pray as well as just to see the beautiful mosque.
Red faced. Sweat drenched hair. Face dripping with sweat. Clothes soaked in sweat. Dizzy and out of breath. Exhausted and hot but unable to breathe in the small claustrophobic bathroom. Clutching her stomach and taking deep breaths, she looks at herself in the mirror. Who is that? Unrecognizable, foreign, different…me.
Image #15
Longest day of my life. I sit. We all sit. My legs ache. Dribble Drabble. What did the speaker say? When will this day end. This postcard is white with just letters. Simple just like their office. Its empty inside the building, their office, two people occupy chairs, maybe they are clients. I just saw a dog take a crap on the sidewalk. This act of crapping disgusts me today more than any other day I have seen this happen. I want to jump into the cool white and black of this postcard and get away from the heat.
I’m waiting for the train in the S-Bahn when I noticed a pair of bright blue overalls. Then the white t-shirt stretched out over his overbearing belly. His swagger, as he was walking his bicycle, had “badass” emanating all over it and black sunglasses to top his stellar look. This worker, in overalls that no American man could successfully pull off, walked in the S-Bahn like owned the damn place.
Image #16
In the East. Deeper East. This place seems desolate. Feels desolate. Different. Like at a standstill. Construction to my left. Buildings unused. Arrows. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…lost count. Art. Urban art. Shooting arrows at unused buildings. Poke fun. Literally poking fun.
With no small convenience store to be found, I walked into an empty Chinese restaurant, desperately thirsty because I noticed they had a cooler for drinks. Immediately upon walking in I felt unwelcome. The restaurant was empty and the workers looked at me annoyed rather than trying to encourage me to sit, eat and stay. I wanted to walk out but instead I hurriedly chose a drink and asked how much. 2.50. Great…2.50 Euro for a small multivitamin drink that wouldn’t even last me 2 seconds. I buy it, walk back down the street and notice a small grocery store to my left.
Image #17
Large space. Lots of space. Man who lived in the U-bahn. Makeshift ladder. Blue print of the room in the U-Bahn. Muhammed climbs ladder. Legs tired and sitting after a long days walk. The cool cement is comforting. The chatter of my classmates is comforting.
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