EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
Katja Ka and the Büro Berlin
NICOLE LAMPL
Tulane University
The political, economic, and social conditions of postwar West Germany, and its most iconic marker, the
Berlin Wall, provoked engaging and performative artistic responses by an art collective founded in the late
1970s known as the Büro Berlin. Wall Painting by Katja Ka, created in collaboration with the Büro Berlin in
1980, addresses overarching national and local concerns of the collective and Ka’s status as a female artist in a
male dominated art world. At the national level, the cultural influence of the United States infiltrated West
German cultural institutions through the aggressive promotion of American Abstract Expressionist art. At
the local level, the capitalist economic policies rapidly depleted the availability of housing throughout West
Berlin, but most saliently in the borough in which the Büro Berlin was based. In Kreuzberg, part of the
Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg borough that was one of West Berlin’s twelve political boroughs, Ka’s Wall Painting
responds to American cultural imperialism, controversial urban renewal policies, and social constructions of
gender roles through a compelling exploration of space, art, and resistance in postwar West Germany.
Keywords: Berlin Wall, abstract expressionism, urban renewal, postwar West Germany, gender
T
he political, economic, and social conditions of postwar West Germany, and its most iconic
marker, the Berlin Wall, provoked engaging and performative artistic responses by an art
collective founded in the late 1970s known as the Büro Berlin. Wall Painting by Katja Ka, created in
collaboration with the Büro Berlin in 1980, addresses overarching national and local concerns of the
collective, as well as the Ka’s own status as a female artist in a male dominated art world. On a
national level, the enduring cultural influence of the United States infiltrated West German cultural
institutions by aggressively promoting American Abstract Expressionist art. On a local level, the
capitalist economic policies rapidly depleted the availability of housing throughout West Berlin, but
most saliently in the borough in which the Büro Berlin was based. In Kreuzberg, part of the
Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg borough that was one of West Berlin’s twelve political boroughs, Katja
Ka’s loudly defiant gesture responds to American cultural imperialism, controversial urban renewal
2
TRANSSCRIPTS / JUNE 2016
policies, and social constructions of gender roles through a compelling exploration of space, art, and
resistance in postwar West Germany.
In 1978, Raimund Kummer, Hermann Pitz, and Fritz Rahman founded the Büro Berlin,
which was a loosely composed collective of an evolving roster of international artists united by a
common interest in collaborating on interventions in alternative spaces around West Berlin. By
utilizing abandoned spaces as alternative sites of exhibition, the Büro Berlin rejected the hegemonic
art institutions that dictated popular perceptions of modern art that were considered worthy of
display. The group sought to eliminate the middleman that mediated the realm between production
and reception. In order to critically distance itself from the insularity of existing art structures, the
group designed an alternative form of community that took on all organizational, curatorial, and
administrative responsibilities (MacLean) The artists collectively created ephemeral and context
driven artworks comprised of found objects in abandoned industrial locations in an effort to
radically expand beyond the claustrophobic confines of commercial art establishments.
Katja Ka’s Wall Painting, collaboratively designed and physically created in conjunction with
the Büro Berlin in 1980, illustrates these rebellious sentiments. A brilliant cerulean hue is punctuated
by violent upward thrusts of dark blue on the exposed interior stairwell of a partially demolished
building. The shadowy gestural strokes evoke deep recession into space, or even more dramatically,
a limitless and consuming void. Unifying five stories into a single uninterrupted surface, she fuses
the painted surface with its architectural support, effectively eliminating the gallery or museum wall
upon which a painting would typically hang. By transforming a decaying wall into art, Ka’s work
asserts its independence from institutional intervention and denies commodification through its
inconsumable scale and undeniable ephemerality.
AMERICAN CULTURAL IMPERIALISM
Wall Painting attacks the widespread institutional promotion and propagandizing of Abstract
Expressionism as a superimposition of American identity onto West German art. Through this
work, Katja Ka dons the guise of abstraction as a form of critical commentary on American
aesthetic imperialism. Ka consciously employs common tropes of Abstract Expressionism,
characterized by large scale, non-objective imagery that appears emotionally charged with personal
meaning, and shows visible signs of the artist’s physical working process. By creating this work in
collaboration with the Büro Berlin, Ka explicitly satirizes not only the notion of the individual
artistic genius, but furthermore, the fiercely independent and emotionally tortured mythic and hyper-
N. Lampl / EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
3
masculine hero of Abstract Expressionism. The larger than life scale of the painting makes it
impossible to trace her process and bodily movements while in the act of creation, thus disavowing
the very premise of action painting. The herculean scale caricatures the Abstract Expressionists’
preoccupation with creating monumental paintings as enveloping environments and provides
humorous commentary on not only the looming omnipresence of American abstract art in West
Germany, but also the largesse of the hyper-masculine male artist’s ego. Katja Ka’s subtle yet
scathing systemic critique reflects West Germany’s preoccupation with fashioning an independent
cultural identity.
Following the official creation of two German states in 1949, the Soviet East and the Allied
West (composed of the U.S., France, and Britain) instrumentalized divergent canons of
contemporary art to reflect their respective political ideologies. The city of Berlin, also severed into
East and West divisions where the occupying powers were stationed in claustrophobic proximity to
one another, served as the primary stage for escalating Cold War dramas. Through the calculated
establishment of art institutions and promotion of key exhibitions, the occupying powers
proselytized their national art movements to a German public that was all too eager to absorb any
identity besides its own, in desperation to escape from its tortured recent past (Weiner). While the
Soviet Union promulgated socialist realism in the East as the most direct avenue to communicate
with the general populace in advancing communist ideals, the Western Allies, particularly the U.S.,
promoted abstraction not only to define itself in direct opposition to the East, but also to embody
the ultimate expression of personal freedom only afforded by democracy (Weiner).
Despite the growing sovereignty bestowed upon the West Federal Republic of Germany and
East German Democratic Republic in the early 1950s, the occupying powers perpetuated a strong
physical presence and influence to which each bloc professed loyalty and maintained strong
partnerships. Several exhibitions circulated in West Berlin that heroicized American abstract artists
as purveyors of an apolitical aesthetic that German artists were encouraged to absorb. American art’s
aggressive self-promotion as the pinnacle of contemporary art was not only pushed and funded by
the U.S., but was also openly embraced by some German official and elite circles as a universal
language that transcended national boundaries. With substantial financial support provided by the
U.S., The Berliner Festwochen Festival held its inaugural exhibition in 1951 entitled “American
Painting: Its Origins and Present,” which displayed works by Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko,
among other prominent American artists (Weiner 102). In 1958, the Academy of Fine Arts Berlin,
with generous loans from the International Council of MoMA in New York, held a widely popular
4
TRANSSCRIPTS / JUNE 2016
Jackson Pollock retrospective alongside a group exhibition, “New American Painting,” which
included artworks by Willem De Kooning, Franz Kline, Mark Rothko, and Clyfford Still (Barron).
Previously deemed as degenerate art by the Nazi regime, German Expressionism was featured
prominently in the first Documenta of 1958, and the emphasis on Abstract Expressionism in the
subsequent 1959 Documenta consciously created an uninterrupted chronological evolution from
German to American artistic styles. The 1959 Documenta had a pronounced historical orientation
that “exemplified a cultural politics that pursued consensus not by repressing the past but by recurating it, presenting an image of German art and history that harmoniously joined the past with
the present, the citizen with the nation, and the Federal Republic with the international community”
(Weiner).
With the founding of the West Berlin New National Gallery in 1968, the preference for
American art was further institutionalized by the curator Walter Haftmann, who consistently forged
international commonalities that he believed transcended national concerns through sharing
common
vocabularies
of
gestural
abstraction.
While
championing
American
Abstract
Expressionism, Haftmann marginalized all other artistic developments, particularly figurative art
with its inextricable ties to Soviet socialism (Weiner). In another National Gallery exhibition in 1969,
Haftmann aligned successful West German artists with American artists of great acclaim who were
highly coveted by collectors as if to provide palpable proof of the alleged ‘economic miracle’ that
transpired under the guidance of the Western Allies. However, only an estimated three percent West
German citizens expressed interest in American modernist art, thus exposing the institution as
fundamentally detached from the community’s preferences in its concerted efforts to serve the tastes
of a small slice of elite that ingratiated itself to American powers (Weiner).
This invasive and consuming presence of American art increasingly came to be viewed by
some as a form of aesthetic and cultural imperialism that was analogous to the other imperialist
actions being imposed by the U.S, such as the stationing of hundreds of thousands of American
troops, sponsoring currency reform, and the influx of American consumer goods flooding the
market (Barron). With the Korean War in 1950 and the ongoing and disastrous war in Vietnam from
1955-1975, West Germany gradually became another pawn in the proxy wars between American and
Soviet superpowers. Some West and East Berlin artists began to challenge the absolutist delineation
between socialist and capitalist ideologies, and their concomitant aesthetics, pushed so vehemently
by each state’s institutions. Just as each side began expressing a desire to shed the skin of their
N. Lampl / EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
5
cultural oppressors, the borders were sealed and the Berlin Wall was erected nearly overnight in
1961.
CONTROVERSIAL URBAN DESIGN POLICIES
The gesture of painting on a towering wall in a city languishing in the shadows of “The Wall,”
inevitably evokes associations with the Berlin Wall itself. Suddenly displaced from the center to the
periphery, all of West Berlin was lacerated from its Eastern counterpart. Expansive boulevards and
railroad tracks abruptly dead-ended at the foot of the wall. Networks of movement and transport
were silenced and stilled by the lowering of the iron curtain, and “with one stroke, the inner city
became the outer city” (Crane-Engel 1). Slicing directly through the city, the Berlin Wall consigned
West
Berlin
to
not
only
a
geographic, but also an economic
fringe by obstructing its previously
commercial connections with the
eastern sector (Crane-Engel). In
addition to violently disrupting the
everyday routines of Berliners in
terms of spaces inhabited and
routes
traveled,
the
looming
presence of the wall served as a
daily reminder of the death of
hope for a unified city silhouette
Image 1: © 2016 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
(Brown and Anton). All buildings
within close proximity to the wall,
on its east side, were razed in order to create space for a “death strip,” which consisted of hundreds
of watchtowers, miles of anti-vehicle trenches, more than one million landmines, trip-wire machine
guns, floodlights, barbed wire, and raked gravel to capture the footprints of any escapees (Führ).
Directives for the border guards were to shoot to kill any fleeing East German citizens.
Although West Berlin citizens might feel protected by the enclosed safe-haven provided by
the wall, purportedly an isolated oasis of freedom from the surrounding Soviet enemy, a pervading
sense of claustrophobia made it difficult to distinguish which side held captive prisoners.
Purposefully designed to be cut off from its surroundings and hermetically sealed by the wall, West
6
TRANSSCRIPTS / JUNE 2016
Berlin became an archaeological site frozen in time that was neglected while the rest of West
Germany was experiencing expansive reconstruction efforts and an overall economic boom
(Mesch). Visitors from West Germany were shocked by “the bullet holes peppering building facades
and the bunkers occupying central spaces in residential areas [that] visualized a failed history and
violent past that had been so heavily repressed in West Germany” (Gillen 280). Because West Berlin
was ideologically positioned as the “outpost of the free world,” the postwar city was intended to
symbolize the best that capitalism had to offer (Brown and Anton 159). However, an increasing
disenchantment and disillusionment with western promises of freedom and the myth of the
economic miracle that did not seem to manifest in Kreuzberg, the poorest quarter of West Berlin,
led to a widespread critical stance on capitalism.
Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, housing and urban renewal plans became fiercely
contentious issues throughout West Berlin, but particularly in Kreuzberg. After World War II,
Kreuzberg's legally regulated housing rents made investments unattractive. As a result, the quality of
housing gradually deteriorated, but remained extremely inexpensive. Beginning in the late 1960s, an
increasing numbers of students, artists, and immigrants relocated to Kreuzberg to take advantage of
its affordability. The area infamously became the epicenter for countercultural movements and
alternative lifestyles. This led to a popular rendering of the neighborhood as a volatile “cradle” of
West Germany’s radical leftist scene (Brown and Anton 154). West Berlin residences that had
survived the Allied bombings were falling into significant disrepair by the 1960s, with fifty percent
considered unlivable. Official plans foresaw the demolition of eighty-four percent of existing
housing (Brown and Anton). Throughout the 1970s, the Ministry for Building and Construction
performed expansive demolitions to replace older housing with new residential units (Brown and
Anton). Despite the increasingly undeniable political reality of a bifurcated city, several blocks were
razed in preparation for a major highway that would function as the main artery running from north
to south through the city (Brown and Anton). While existing apartment buildings continued to
decay, the majority of new housing was significantly delayed, and the construction that had been
completed was costly and unpopular with local residents. The landscape in Kreuzberg became
dominated by crumbling buildings, empty storefronts, and a migrant and poor population that was
shuffled from one dilapidated apartment to the next.
Meanwhile, as Kreuzberg was disintegrating into ruins, the Berlin Wall surrounding it was
continually being reinforced. The Berlin Wall was extended and continually improved upon as it
evolved through four major phases of construction. Commencing with a wire fence and concrete
N. Lampl / EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
7
block wall in 1961, then progressing to an improved wire fence between 1962 and 1965, and then an
enhanced concrete wall supported by steel girders between 1965 and 1975, the construction
concluded with the Grensmauer 75 (Border Wall 75) (Führ). The "fourth-generation wall" was the
final and most sophisticated version. Begun in 1975 and continually maintained until the day it fell in
1989, the final iteration of the Berlin Wall was constructed from 45,000 separate sections of
reinforced concrete, each twelve feet high and four feet wide, and cost approximately 3.6 million
dollars (Führ 62).
As East Berlin continued to fortify the wall at the expense of its own citizens, West Berlin
implemented renewal policies that primarily benefitted construction companies and housing
corporations, rather than its own residents. Speculators had strong pecuniary incentives to leave
buildings vacant or evict tenants and wait for housing prices to skyrocket (Vasudevan). Official
urban design plans were increasingly exposed as duplicitous, which is best captured in a statement
made by the district board of the West Berlin Protestant Church in 1973: “Urban renewal isn’t living
up to its promise of a planning practice that will provide Kreuzberg’s residents with a better quality
of life, instead it only benefits the capitalist interests of housing associations and private owners and
serves as a playground for planners and architects” (Brown and Anton 162). Regeneration merely
served as a thinly veiled guise for higher rents, displacement, and widespread demolition.
Through its critical interventions in urban development, the Büro Berlin sparked dialogue
about current conditions and revealed society’s utopian aspirations, as well as its failures. In their
existential angst precariously balanced between absurdist and nihilist action, they interweaved past
and present cycles of creation as an ineluctable result of destruction, even as creation was also
framed as the product of destruction and vice versa. By temporarily occupying demolition sites, they
sought to “transform them into anonymous sculptures, and thereby creat[e] a marker of the city’s
physical and social change” (MacLean 1). In calling attention to the decaying facades throughout the
city, they demonstrated both a mastery over the past by contrasting before and after to frame the
artwork as a form of renewal, as well as draw on a “long-standing tradition of viewing the ruin as the
site where human history is absorbed into the landscape” (Weiner 105). Katja Ka exposes the
fragility of memory that has continually collapsed under the weight of present and future concerns.
Ka’s piece exposed the violent trauma of World War II bombings, referenced the occupied present
by citing the Berlin Wall, and imagined the future of freedom with the impending destruction of the
wall. Ka constructed a palimpsest of previous histories that were continually being painted over, just
as they were daily on the facade of the Berlin Wall.
8
TRANSSCRIPTS / JUNE 2016
As a result of these escalating controversies, Kreuzberg erupted with dissent, protest, and
resistance. Uneven development and housing inequality catalyzed political mobilization for new
spaces of action, self-determination, and solidarity (Vasudevan). Dissenting residents reimagined
novel ways of coexisting in urban environments as a way to reclaim their inherent right to participate
in the restructuring of their own city. Activists, exasperated and angry over the housing shortage and
inefficient redevelopment plans, began to physically occupy vacant properties slated for demolition
as a form of protest. According to German government statistics, in 1980 ten thousand apartments
remained empty, but unofficial numbers were estimated closer to forty thousand (Karapin).
Physically occupying empty buildings was an act of resistance that carved out space for alternative
communities to flourish in the face of a rapidly shifting and unstable city (Brown and Anton).
Resulting from mounting frustrations with the inefficacies of governmental policies, Rehab
Squatting emerged in 1979 as a crucial tactic in a non-violent, yet disruptive approach to reform
renewal policies (Karapin). Although differing on many other political issues, squatters shared the
mission to collectively reside in and renovate vacant decrepit buildings in order to hinder
demolitions that would contribute to the already acute housing crisis. From 1979 to 1982, over 239
buildings had been squatted, 196 separate “incidents” concerning occupied housing had occurred
with police, and 2,289 people self-identified as squatters (Vasudevan). The discontent spreading
through the community was not exclusive to the vociferous protestors: a poll in 1981 stated that 53
percent of the West German public supported the squatters’ criticism of urban development
(Vasudevan).
Despite Kreuzberg’s subpar standard of living and sluggish economic development, artists
were attracted to the affordable housing, lively protest politics, cultural autonomy, and the city’s
status as demilitarized zone that permitted people to eschew military service. In 1980, the Büro
Berlin established a physical office for their organizational activities in the abandoned factory of
Kroll Trucking Co. located at 39 Lindenstraße, where they held weekly office hours for planning and
discussion of future art projects (Mesch). The meetings focused on coordination and other
organizational activities as well as individual or collaborative projects that were typically produced
either inside long-disused factories, or on the exteriors of soon to be demolished buildings. The
motivation for the creation of the Büro Berlin “was the provision of an institution devoted to
collaboration” and the fact that “in the past artistic events had been seen as occupying opposite
positions from the determinants of production, reception, and distribution and the specific
apparatus they entail” (Wulffen 50-51).
N. Lampl / EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
9
SOCIAL CONSTRUCTIONS OF GENDER ROLES
The Büro Berlin squatted an abandoned factory in order to create an alternative community that
operated externally to stifling art institutions and created a collective artistic identity. Squatted
houses similarly served as emancipatory sites that challenged traditional gender identities and their
domestic roles. Radically novel sites for shared living subverted both the notion of home as a site of
domesticity, as well the conventional distinctions between public and private life. Walls were
removed to increase the size of social spaces that were now connected by a network of doors and
passageways. Alterations to the inner layouts often accompanied a transformation of the building’s
exterior. Hand painted banners draped from windows, while colorfully painted walls acted as “urban
tattoos” that provided a “stark contrast to the emotionally vacuous landscapes of normal urban life”
(Vasudevan 114). Within these communal living quarters, squatters consciously challenged
traditional performances of housekeeping and kinship.
Katja Ka similarly designs a form of ‘urban tattoo,’ but one that consciously embraces the
ephemerality of the flesh upon which it is placed as opposed to the assumed permanence associated
with tattoos, which symbolized the permanent change that the squatters hoped to effect. Painting on
a wall of that size is both an emphatic marking of presence, as well as reclamation of space in the
same spirit of the squatters. In fact, in December of 1980, just a few months after the completion of
the Wall Painting, one of the largest protest movements following a mass eviction of squatters
occurred a mere two buildings away from where Ka’s piece was located (Vasudevan). The
ubiquitous sense of dislocation and rupture is contained in a statement by a member of the squatter
movement in 1981:
We did not squat simply to secure housing. We wanted to live and work together
again. We wanted to put an end to the separation and destruction of communal
living. Who in this city is not familiar with the agonizing loneliness and emptiness of
everyday life that has arisen with the ceaseless destruction of traditional relationships
wrought by urban renovation and other forms of urban destruction? Many of us
have, for the first time, found a true home in the squatted houses...In the houses, we
are trying to find something that does not exist anymore in society: Relationships and
Hope. (Vasudevan 105)
Pushed out of their own homes both by the government, and by the omnipresence of the Berlin
Wall, Kreuzberg residents felt simultaneously unmoored by crumbling walls of their homes and
10
TRANSSCRIPTS / JUNE 2016
trapped by the increasingly fortified Berlin Wall. As the privacy and comfort of home was
increasingly violated by urban renewal policies, the residents remained powerless. Just as the
squatters, Katja Ka reimagined the normative assumptions of the elusive concept of ‘home.’ The
reclamation of space through squatting, or through painting in the case of Katja Ka, was one way in
which people regained control over their environment and livelihood. In a synchronously absurdist
and optimistic gesture, Ka intervenes in the process of demolition to rehabilitate and aestheticize a
building despite its glaringly transient existence. Ka’s work is particularly reminiscent of Gordon
Matta-Clark’s "anarchitecture" of the 1970s that explored the voids, gaps, and leftover spaces that
were destined to succumb to the certainty of entropy. Matta-Clark created temporary works by
sawing and carving sections out of buildings, most of which were scheduled to be destroyed
(Guggenheim). Both Matta-Clark’s and Ka’s interests in the theme of displacement manifests in the
creative re-appropriation of residential space.
By utilizing commercial house paint, Ka effectively equates artistic practice with the physical
prowess of manual labor. Situated in a working class community where 54 percent of the population
were manual laborers, Ka consciously dismantled the distinction between the common labor of a
house painter and the creative work of an artist, thus deconstructing the difference between high
and low art (Karapin). However, I propose that Ka’s painting on an interior wall evokes associations
more with interior design than with house painting, and thus transports the viewer to the world of
women’s work. Interior design emerged as one of the few acceptable “feminine” occupations in
West Germany after World War II (Lichtman). However, female interior designers were often
plagued with the reputation of exhibiting an amateur feminine predisposition toward decoration and
the decorative (Lichtman). With the absence of an external wall, the interior and domestic realm of
femininity is suddenly thrust into the exterior and public realm of masculinity.
This unfettering of femininity from the confines of domestic space reverberates with the
concerns of contemporaneous feminist squatters. In 1981, a group of women who occupied a
former chocolate factory on Mariannenstrasse “were looking for rooms where they could live
undisturbed by the unwanted attention of men” and sought liberation from the demands of
domesticity and social reproduction (Vasudevan 115). This was just one of the many spaces
occupied by women in response to the “structural patriarchal violence [that] has many multifaceted
faces both subtle and crude” within the Radical Left throughout West Germany (Vasudevan 115). In
January 1981, a group of twelve women occupied a house on the street Liegnitzerstrasse, which
soon received the demeaning moniker of Hexenhaus or “witches’ house.” Over the next few weeks,
N. Lampl / EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
11
houses on Mariannenstrasse and Naunynstrasse were squatted by women who, despite various
political differences, united around the shared feminist ideology (Vasudevan). Despite rallying
behind the common cause of gender equality, many women felt that “paradise is still so far away.
For behold, the men are still the same. We are not only suppressed by the state. When we get home,
we are therapists and ‘mummies,’ not squatters” (Vasudevan 115-116). By dissolving the divide
between masculine and feminine realms, Ka claimed her rightful place as an equal peer in the male
dominated art world, both locally, within the Büro Berlin, and internationally, in the Abstract
Expressionist movement. The upward thrusting strokes that lead the eye vertically to the peak of the
narrow stairwell shaft where it penetrates the awaiting sky serves as a thinly veiled reference to the
persistent phallocentrism that permeated not only Abstract Expressionist and Buro Berlin art circles,
but also West German society at large.
Katja Ka and the Büro Berlin created artwork that captured the zeitgeist of West Germany
in the 1970s and 1980s. The Büro Berlin pays tribute to the dismembered topography through its
critical intervention in urban design and development, while still maintaining a delicate sense of
absurdity of West Berlin’s psychological and geographical situation. In her Wall Painting, Katja Ka
disguised herself as an American Abstract Expressionist artist, an urban squatter, and a male in the
public realm in order to reclaim national, civic, and domestic space. The wall she painted, with its
impending destruction, serves as a hopeful effigy of the Berlin Wall, which would meet its demise
only eight years later.
12
TRANSSCRIPTS / JUNE 2016
WORKS CITED
Barron, Stephanie, Sabine Eckmann, Eckhart Gillen, Los Angeles County Museum of Art,
Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nürnberg, and Deutsches Historisches Museum. Art of Two
Germanys, Cold War Cultures. New York ; London: Abrams ; Los Angeles, 2009. Print.
Brown, Timothy Scott, and Lorena Anton. Between the Avant-Garde and the Everyday : Subversive Politics
in Europe from 1957 to the Present. Protest, Culture and Society ; v. 6. New York: Berghahn
Books, 2011. Print.
“Collection Online | Gordon Matta-Clark - Guggenheim Museum.” Accessed December 9, 2015.
http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/collections/collection-online/artists/bios/874.
Web.
Crane-Engel, Melinda, Special to The Christian Science Monitor / October 30, and 1987. “A Short
History of Kreuzberg.” The Christian Science Monitor, October 30, 1987.
http://m.csmonitor.com/1987/1030/h1berg.html. Web.
Führ, Wieland. The Berlin Wall and Inner-German Border, 1945-1990. Imhof-Zeitgeschichte. Petersberg:
Imhof, 2009. Print.
Gillen, Eckhart. “Scenes from the Theater of the Cold War of the Arts.” In Art of Two Germanys, Cold
War Cultures, edited by Stephanie Barron and Sabine Eckmann. New York ; London:
Abrams ; Los Angeles, 2009. Print.
Karapin, Roger. Protest Politics in Germany : Movements on the Left and Right since the 1960s. University
Park, Pa: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2007. Print.
Lichtman, Sarah A. Review of Review of Cold War on the Home Front: The Soft Power of
Midcentury Design, by Greg Castillo. West 86th: A Journal of Decorative Arts, Design History, and
Material Culture 18, no. 1, 2011: 115–18. doi:10.1086/659392. Web.
“Meet the Germans – Typically German - The Arty - Raimund Kummer - Goethe-Institut.”
Accessed December 9, 2015.
http://www.goethe.de/ins/gb/lp/prj/mtg/men/kun/kum/en14340868.htm. Web.
Mesch, Claudia. Modern Art at the Berlin Wall : Demarcating Culture in the Cold War Germanys.
International Library of Cultural Studies ; 3. London ; New York: Tauris Academic Studies,
2008. Print.
Vasudevan, Alexander. Metropolitan Preoccupations: The Spatial Politics of Squatting in Berlin. John Wiley &
Sons, 2015. Print.
N. Lampl / EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE WALL
Weiner, Andrew S. “Memory under Reconstruction: Politics and Event in West Germany.” Grey
Room, 2009, 94–124. doi:10.1162/grey.2009.1.37.94. Web.
Wulffen, Thomas. “Büro Berlin.” Edited by Thomas Wulffen. Artscribe International, no. 62 (1987):
49–53. Print.
13