Barbed Wires
Some projects develop silently, somewhere in the depth of your portfolio. Until one day you think - well, I seem to have an interest in this topic. Let’s make it a small project.
This happened to me with barbed wires. At some point over the past two or three years, I seemed to have noticed them as motives. And then again. And again. Pictures of barbed wires kept popping up.
Mostly during photo walks (or bike rides) during my wider neighborhood in Berlin.
The thing about barbed wires is that they have been part of my life since I was a child. They were everywhere. Some neighbors in my hometown shielding parts of their properties. Or on top of the fences or walls. Or around the small prison next to the lake where we went swimming during the summer.
But much more prominently and in huge amounts: Along the Iron Curtain, the border between the two Germanys. The border with nearby Czechoslovakia. Or, later, after I had moved to Berlin, along the Berlin wall. All protected by barbed wires, some crude standard barbed wire, some the more cruel razor wire.
The message of installing barbed or razor wire is always the same: Stay Out! No Trespassing! Back, before the fall of 1989, this was serious business. Trespassing the Iron Curtain meant almost certainly being shot at, either by the GDR border guards or by the GDR’s automated booby trap guns, the SM-70s. And it didn’t really matter if you tried to escape the Communist regime in the GDR or tried to enter the Socialist haven from the non-communist, western side. Where I grew up. Barbed wire triggers memories.
Today, I come across barbed wires mostly in an urban context, simply because I live in Berlin. It rarely occurs in the middle of residential areas, mostly around some commercial properties or yards. But when the barbed wire shows up in residential areas, it sticks out.
The odd thing, however, is when barbed wire show up in a context that you normally would not associate with it - places of leisure, of joy and fun. Like marinas or jetties.
Still, the message is clear. Stay Out! We don’t want you mere mortal stepping on our jetty. We don’t want you to sit there and enjoy the sun and water and a good view of the boats on the river. The barbed wire of privilege. And because privilege is serious business, we use razor wire.
But where it really gets weird is when barbed wire is used to fence off open air nightclubs. Turning them into cages for those who passed the scrutiny of the bouncers. Those who were deemed fit to enjoy some dancing, boozing or drugging. And the rest stay out! Don’t spoil the fun.
