Art in public space: The “Bridge Sprout” on the Isar is gone – Munich

Art in public space can roughly be divided into two categories: When one comes to mind – although not only, then first of all, because it is also historically the oldest – of statues and fountains. The other, which gradually took shape towards the middle of the 20th century under the heading “art in public space”, is mostly about temporary works of art.

These can be buildings, stairs, bridges, floor and free-standing sculptures and installations. Bus shelters, pavilions, habitable monuments and churches, towers and platforms have also been built there. Writing, image and light art, photography and video are just as much forms as, more recently, digital works of art including holograms or interactive art in public space that can be activated via the Internet.

Some of these works of art are somehow easy for everyone to live with. Others are controversial even before they are built. And the idea that these could last longer than planned often causes heated debates between supporters and opponents. The discussion about how meaningful art in public space is, what it stands for, what it can achieve is diverse and endless.

That too Public art program of the cultural department of the city of Munich regularly evokes a wide variety of reactions. For example, Alicja Kwades – trimmed to human size – “Bavaria” has been on Erhardtstraße, corner of Corneliusbrücke, since spring 2020 and seems to please passers-by in equal measure and leave them cold. As uncontroversial as their appearance was, the extension of their existence until the end of 2023 should not lead to an uproar.

The “Bridge Sprout” by the Japanese studio Bow Wow is completely different. The installation on the banks of the Isar opposite the Schwindinsel, commonly known as “Bridge to Nothing”, had already been given unflattering titles such as Mikado illusion, hunter’s fence, roof truss, fuselage object, airlift or dummy bridge. And the Bavarian party tried to prevent them from voting in the city’s culture committee. Usually, people are keen to enter so-called bridges into nothingness. But it’s also about the thrill of abysses of any kind.

It’s all a question of perspective: The “Bridge Sprout” offered many insights and outlooks and became Munich’s selfie hotspot, especially during the pandemic.

(Photo: Catherine Hess)

However, the “Bridge Sprout” did not trump with spectacular abysses, but rather with meditative moments. No sooner was the piece of bridge that ended over the water and made Schwindinsel a place of longing than you fell in love with it. Every passing, every cycling past required a moment to linger. At times, people came in such droves that, due to the corona virus, you even had to queue to enter them. Which admittedly would have been less conducive to the meditative moment. In the course of its existence, the Munich “Bridge to Nothingness” had become a selfie hotspot on the Isar.

Unfortunately, this episode of art in public space ended shortly before Christmas after being extended twice – without a murmur. We will miss you.

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