Entering into its fourth year of existence, the student-run arts festival Pankumenta is a longstanding tradition for Bard College Berlin students, alumni, and faculty alike. The annual festival has become a staple in the Spring semester for the university community and for young artists around Berlin, and it has grown in popularity with each passing
From the Archives: Alumni Interviews
Die Barliner takes a look back on some of our favorite Bard College Berlin alumni interviews from the past few years. We invite you to revisit not only the stories and paths these amazing former students have taken after graduation, but also their reflections on their education and time spent at BCB. August 2017- “Alumni
An Alumni Interview with Clara Canales Gutierrez (BA EPST 2019)
It was a strange feeling, to be meeting someone who I’d heard so much about online and during a pandemic; truly bizarre to be interviewing someone about Bard College Berlin, a university Clara Canales Gutierrez (BA EPST 2019) attended before I even knew it existed, and ask her questions that are unanswerable in uncertain times.
The End of the Affair
This was when I was never sure what I was doing. I had decided that the way for me to be happiest was to not think too hard about anything as long as it felt right. It was a time when I was a heathen and I was happy with how I had justified it.
We Are The Walls
We are the walls who have stood for one hundred years and we will stand for one hundred more at the discretion of God, the weather, and those who reside inside of us. We have stood regardless of the scurryings of rodents on our backs and the people who painted our faces anew.
I don’t usually assign much spiritual significance to death, but on the 8th of December, when two friends and I went to Potsdam to explore an abandoned cemetery, taking a picture felt wrong. In an effort to make something from the experience or somehow preserve it, I sat down and wrote this poem.
Cabin Fever Months snowed inA man rinsing and repeatingA sweet song played overTea heated on the stove forUnkempt hair and foggy glassesAnd bastard brain bashed inHe left home fast; saysHe never recoveredWhen looking at me through a cameraI was not so sureAbout my presenceAnd what I should be trying forIt comes back to me when