Panorama: Architecture in Germany

Architects offer guided tours to the new and old landmarks of modern architectural history in Europe’s metropolises.



A large excursion boat chugs along the River Spree in the direction of Berlin’s government district. Despite the icy wind the passengers, over a hundred of them, are all crowded on deck where they gather around the architecture guide Thomas Michael Krüger. Just like his listeners – architects from all over Germany who have come to Berlin for a professional convention – he is accustomed to wind and cold weather. Perhaps even more so than his colleagues, since as a guide for contemporary architecture the “outdoors” is always part of his programme – particularly when a tour approaches the interesting buildings, as in this very moment.

Just hoving into view at the Moabiter Werder is the residential complex by Georg Bumiller, known as the “Bundesschlange” (Federal Snake) which, as seen here from the water, makes a friendly and open impression. Thomas Krüger explains the building from the standpoint of its location: quiet on the waterfront and on the other side braced against the noise from the city railway. The generously proportioned ribbon windows, which the architects and engineers see from the boat, are only the one side, he says. On the other side most Berliners and visitors see what looks like a vast expanse of wall, a punctuated facade, behind which only utility rooms are located for reasons of noise control.

This time his listeners are professionals so Thomas Krüger needs only a few words to outline the architects’ idea and, at the same time, to explain to them the vexation of most Berliners and visitors with this expensive building which was intended for government employees. For when people pass by in the train, they see only the back wall with its apertures that are reminiscent of embrasures.

Explaining colleagues’ intentions

Looking at buildings from more than one side, coupled with professional and insider knowledge, is in general the distinguishing feature of the guided tours by Krüger and his colleagues from the Network Guiding-Architects. Since 1996 he and his twenty network partners throughout Europe, Dubai and Moscow have been trying to explain buildings, first and foremost, in their essential and original concept. They are architects themselves or university lecturers, like Krüger’s Network co-founder Hans Geilinger in Barcelona. While he contrasts the ubiquitous art-nouveau in the Gaudi metropolis with the work of the new Spanish masters such as Enric Miralles and Ricardo Bofill, Peter Knoch in Moscow has succeeded in putting together tours of the magnificent 1930s avant-garde edifices that are constantly threatened by demolition.

As professionals the Guiding-Architects try to present the intentions of their colleagues and to explain the major and minor catastrophes in the history of architecture. Yet they also pay due regard to the discussion about the edifices – including those which their architects regard as a success – among the general public. For not only experts go on the tours led by Krüger and his team, up to a third of the group may be interested amateurs. Hence he is well aware of the animosity sometimes aroused by modern architecture. After a tour there are usually a few more people who see Berlin’s controversial buildings in a different light – constructions such as the new Akademie der Künste by Günther Behnisch at Pariser Platz or the Velodrom and the Schwimm- und Sprunghalle by the French architect Dominique Perrault in the Europasportpark in the district of Prenzlauer Berg.

Misunderstood edifices and architectural disputes

One of the best examples of an often misunderstood Berlin building, now looming into the view of the boat tourists after the Bundesschlange, is the Bundeskanzleramt (Federal Chancellery) by Axel Schultes and Charlotte Frank. As it stands there now, it was never intended, says Krüger. Schultes, whose Crematorium in Berlin-Treptow is considered by Krüger to be one of the most magnificent edifices in Berlin, had actually planned a continuous “Band des Bundes” (ribbon of government) at this place. It was to unite East and West with a chain of several buildings along the meander of the Spree. However, the planned Bürgerforum (citizens’ forum) in front of the Chancellery was never built. Hence the Chancellery stands as a solitaire without its accompanying ensemble, dominating the scenery too massively, “without any real connection to other buildings, thus contrary to the democratic basic concepts of Schultes’ planning,” as Krüger explains.

In the case of the next construction the boat tourists already have a pretty exact idea as to what the problem is. Whether without or with specialist knowledge – the shortening of the striking glass roof at the entrance to the new Hauptbahnhof (Central Station) designed by Gerkan, Marg and Partner by the contractor Deutsche Bahn (German Rail) has given rise to one of the biggest architectural disputes in Germany. Deutsche Bahn, claiming the arguments of time pressure and exploding costs, shortened the roof by more than a quarter, whereupon the architect Meinhard von Gerkan spoke of a mutilation of his edifice.

Krüger’s group of architects are now able to judge for themselves to what extent this applies. The guide points to two places at some distance from the end of the glass roof: the roof should have been extended to this point. Then he informs his audience of the latest development: in accordance with recommendations by the Bundesbauministerium (Federal Building Ministry) the roof is to be lengthened after all - since it offers important noise prevention for the residents of the new city district at the Humboldthafen (Humboldt Harbour), which the boat is just chugging past. Krüger prefers not to comment on the remarks made by members of the group on this development.

New landmarks

Only once, in fact, does the professional guide briefly lose his impartial composure on this tour: when he is asked about the planned reconstruction of the Berlin Schloss (Berlin City Palace) on the location of the recently demolished Palast der Republik (Palace of the Republic) from the GDR era. Now he is the one who sighs, and then says that he does believe that there are young architects in Germany who could have filled this huge area in the centre of the city with a new idea instead of with an old baroque casing. Shortly afterwards the boat rounds the World Heritage Site Museumsinsel (Museum Island), and the topic “good architecture in old casings” assumes with the subtle interior design of the British architect David Chipperfield a clearly more positive aspect for Krüger and the friends of modern architecture than in the exasperating debate about the Berlin Schloss. Krüger’s office will soon also be able to offer tours in the audacious new/old halls; for now it has to suffice to outline Chipperfield’s planned new reception complex for the entire Museumsinsel. He is eagerly anticipating this new modern entrance structure since “If you’re not daring, then only pseudo-historical repetitions are produced.” On the journey back to the government district he once again returns to this topic that is so much a part of Berlin: “Architecture has to be bold if it wants to be relevant.” It is no coincidence that the eyes of the group then turn to the Reichstag (German Parliament) with Sir Norman Foster’s gleaming cupola.