VIRB

12 April - Between Natura Morta and Laterna Magica

Nicolas Wiese lives in Berlin Neukölln. His house is close to Tempelhof. In Billy Wilder's movie one, two, three there are scenes that show this airport in its black and white cinemascopic glory. Probably a lot of the nostalgic feelings for this remarkable place in Berlin were inspired by the reports of glamourish arrivals of the stars of those days. Now the airport is almost closed. In its last months it is used by small business planes. You have to be lucky to catch the arrival or take off of one of those planes.

The future of Tempelhof is still uncertain. One wishes for a big park; money people long for a massive commercial project. I would like to see it as a zeppelin port, or a place where worldchampionships kite flying can be held, or hot air balloons can have their home, even leaving the place like it is, as a monument to airports could be an idea. And then have Eno come over for an annual festival.

Nicolas went to record sounds, shoot pictures, make short movies. He did it in the immediate vicinity of Tempelhof, where borders become unpredictable and generate their own esthetics of refusal and terra incognito. The result was shown in a small room with the audience sitting close to each other as if they were posing as illegal African immigrants caught by the sicilian water police.

But so much hardship he had to go through to arrange his room. Walking to and fro between gallery and his home he slowly changed it into a kind of white cube. I heard the sounds coming from outside, while in the main space the audience was waiting. And got a bit puzzled when they heard applause. Nicolas had been doing a private concert for his friends.

I couldn't get a clear impression of his sounds. It made me think of the cloud covered days of last winter. In fact I hear those field recording concerts more and more as a biographical audio portrait . Music is on Nicolas' last Cd, so rich and overwhelming in its guirlandes of sounds. At one point I was thinking of a very richly decorated synagogue, and every object in it was singing with his own voice.

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Rinus van Alebeek
on daskleinefieldrecordingsfestival.org