When I began teaching sculpture at BCB in the spring semester of 2015, The Factory was an incredibly raw, open space, with a vibe perhaps closer to a squat’s than to that of a private college arts facility. There was random graffiti covering the walls, the bathrooms had no mirrors or even paper towel dispensers,
A message from Marga Hattingh, the blog editor: From Pankow to puppets to puppies, poems to podcasts to horoscopes to reflective articles, Die Bärliner has travelled far and wide this last academic year. We’re sad to see you go for the summer… which is why we’ll be sticking around. In your inbox. Probably every week.
Our memories are sculpted through the constant wrestling of forgetfulness and remembrance. Time is given a name and calendarized; we make sense of our past, present, and future as triplet brothers identified under the deceivingly named “I”. This universe of being sometimes talks about the weather twice a day, filling in gaps created by silence.
Spring on the BCB campus (drawing by Liza Ostrovska)
Spatial memory is a term often used to describe the neurological process of recalling where something happened or where an object was placed. This type of memory is also used to project into the future, to plan a route to a desired location. It is hard to consider spatial memory without invoking a poetic light.
Tattoos are forbidden by their god Their god who is them Your body will not enter heaven The body cannot be a canvas Skin cannot be art It has to carry its wounds Visible, scarred, shamed Violated with no chance Of empowerment The bodies are a cradle of shame The inherent female guilt Your yellow
When I was asked to write a piece on Baynetna, the only existing Arabic library in Berlin, I was immediately interested. I have always found deep reserves of empathy and solace within the texts of others. I believe literature is one of the most radical mediums of communication that humans possess, as it allows conditions
I thiNk of love More than aNythiNg else. My skin always Bruised very Easily It is the oNly Physical RepReseNtatioN of How My MiNd experieNces life. My soul TurNs Black aNd Blue as easily as My skin Does. From the smallest Bumps, EvEn a Good thinG If pRessed too lonG, too strongly. The iNk emBedded