The Latest at Goethe

Istanbul attracts artists and encourages mutual exchange – an interface of history and progress. A visit to Tarabya, the recently founded German cultural academy by the Bosporus. By Rüdiger Schaper

The white houses by the water evoke a sentiment of yearning and reminiscence. It goes without saying that the sky radiates a mind-boggling blue splendour even in winter.

Poet Gerhard Falkner is standing by a window observing the ships. Hulking cargo behemoths crisscross as if part of a never-ending parade. What a view! What a vista! Falkner is overwhelmed. For weeks now, he has been holed up in his room to work on a new long poem. Every once in a while, he breaks his self-imposed confinement to explore the environs of his temporary habitation on foot. Five hours’ walk to where the Bosporus flows into the Black Sea, six hours to Istanbul, to the Galata Bridge. And in between: Tarabya, the German cultural academy. The first grant recipients moved in in September of 2012.

As a famous wordsmith once said, there are two mistakes a writer can make: looking up from his desk – and not looking up from his desk. Paradise is not just hammocks, palm trees and sweet leisure. Rather, the attraction is the opportunity to work unimpeded for three to ten months. The poet hailing from Berlin, whose stay in Tarabya is drawing to a close, will both be leaving something here and taking something with him. The opus written in Tarabya, a follow-up to his Berlin-themed elegies Gegensprechstadt – ground zero and the Pergamon Poems published last year, tells of the ships, rings with the voices of fishermen and circles around old and new Istanbul. This May, Falkner will be performing the Bosporus poem in Istanbul’s ancient cistern together with Turkish musicians. A Turkish translation is in the works.

Five apartments for grantees

“It’s the right place at the right time,” says Falkner. Istanbul proves as uncannily attractive to artists as 1980s New York. In the metropolis housing 18 million people, the European perspective is broadened and the view of one’s own culture, which, after all, has both roots and a future here, is changed. Should Turkey be a member of the European Union, or has the hesitant stance in Brussels and Berlin already foiled the chance to adapt to the new geopolitical situation?

The troubled history of the Tarabya Academy reflects this uncertainty bordering on self-isolation. Whereas former foreign minister Frank-Walter Steinmeier steadily campaigned for the project, the Foreign Office headed by the liberal party FDP had no desire for an artist colony. It wasn’t until June 2012 that Parliament sanctioned funds and paved the path to Tarabya. As of today, five apartments are available to receivers of grants. Further buildings are being readied for expansion to a function room, a place for German-Turkish mutual exchange.

The Goethe-Institut Istanbul is acting as patron of the academy. Director Claudia Hahn-Raabe, who has resided in Turkey for eight years, has been tirelessly applying herself to the institution’s inception, persevering in the face of political skirmishes and bouts of petty jealousy in Berlin. The artists’ residency still breathes an air of progress and experimentation, which makes up its unique charm. The process of awarding grants is also special. There is no application per se, as is the case in Rome’s Villa Massimo. A jury takes it upon itself to nominate hopefuls. It includes actor Sibel Kekili, theatre director Shermin Langhoff, composer Wolfgang Rihm, and curator David Elliott and is chaired by Joachim Sartorius, the writer and former artistic director of the Berliner Festspiele.

City of bridges

Istanbul is a city of bridges, connecting districts and continents. Tarabya has been appointed a similar task. “The exchange of cultures is promoted by connecting cultural professionals with the local arts scene,” proclaims a shared statement of the Foreign Office and the Goethe-Institut.

Jim Rakete got here three weeks ago. In years past, his camera work changed the face of German rock music; he was a manager and producer in the Neue Deutsche Welle, working with artists such as Nina Hagen and Nena. Today, the photographer’s dream is a museum of photography and painting in Berlin, modelled on the London National Portrait Gallery. He remains reserved when asked about his project for his stay by the Bosporus. He wants to write – and it won’t be his autobiography.

We go on a walk in the academy grounds. To the tennis court, where funded artists can work on their serve; to the tea house, which Jim Rakete thinks would make a fine artist’s studio; to the “sailors‘ house,” where soldiers of the navy-crazed German Emperor William II were once quartered and into which artists could very well move one day; to the cemetery, where the madness of two world wars brought an end to the lives of so many German seamen – hundreds or even thousands of them are laid to rest here, many of them anonymous. Names, never-ending ranks of names: young men, nurses, the crew of a submarine lost at sea – a silent lament lies over their final resting place; all the unwritten stories and forgotten tragedies. Jim Rakete, born in 1951, says: “Our generation was very fortunate.” It is a strange experience to walk among the rows and rows of faceless victims and perpetrators with an artist whose work is grounded in depicting the face of man and making it speak.

Documentary filmmaker Regine Dura lives in the top floor apartment. Her view of the Bosporus is even more impressive. Together with the Berlin theatre producer Hans-Werner Kroesinger, she is doing research for a play tentatively entitled 1914; located in Sarajevo, Belgrade, Istanbul and Berlin. Actors from all these cities will be involved. Regine Dura is also fascinated by the shipping traffic. What are the cargo ships carrying through the Bosporus – weapons to war-torn countries? We look out onto the sea in silence.

Tarabya is exactly what you make of it; it can be splendid isolation or collaboration. That goes for the artists as well as for politics. As far as they’re concerned, things have gotten off to a good start, and growing strong. Just as Istanbul is growing, the city whose pulse is still perceptible out here – not even that far out, as a matter of fact. The location is, to put it simply, ideal.

Courtesy of the Berlin Tagesspiegel, in which this article appeared first in the 7 April 2013 issue. The text has been slightly abridged.