Something big has to go in there. It was immediately clear to them when they saw this high room. So Tanja Frank and Isabel Huttner, two art therapists, asked their clients, and it actually turned out great things. They measure two pictures, six by four and a half meters, and show Munich from below. Between and next to the pictures are an old bike, a shopping cart, an armchair without upholstery, euro pallets with blankets on them. Short videos are played on trays. People talk about the street.
“From life?” is the title of this unusual audiovisual installation by the formerly homeless and can be seen in the art pavilion in the Old Botanical Garden. The title suggests dying, that yes. But the people, whose story can be heard, whose art can be seen, do not leave the end the life they were in the Live and continue to be. Even if almost invisible to most people in Munich, and if it was often an over-life. Today they live in sheltered houses with roof and door. With more dignity.
“At some point my toes turned black. All of my toenails fell out because they were frozen. I thought if you had drunk more alcohol now or if it had been a bit colder, then you would have died.” This is what Hermann Arbinger says in one of the videos. Now he’s sitting in the house on Knorrstrasse, fifth floor, looking over the roofs, and talking in fast motion.
He has lived here for a year, looked after by experts from the Catholic Men’s Welfare Association (KMFV), which gives small rooms to the formerly homeless, lockable, with wet room, Arbinger calls it “my apartment”. In the morning he goes to work, in the KMFV shop next door, where they sell what residents have created in art therapy. Clay vases, crockery, insect hotels, and a chest made to order. Arbinger says that he used the last of his strength to get help, he was on the street for two years. He spent the night in a demolished house before he was threatened there. “Hey, you bum, come out! We know you’re here.” Then he went into the forest for half a year, over winter.
“Hey, you bum, come out! We know you’re here.”
Arbinger is now 56. His crash began imperceptibly, the alcohol dragging him downstairs. He had a responsible job, he says, at an automotive supplier, and made good money. Then he became increasingly unfocused, ashamed. At some point he gave up so as not to have to admit the mishaps to the boss. Mistake number one, he says today. Mistake two was that he left his apartment after quarreling with his landlord and initially lived in the car. He hadn’t had any contact with his four children for a long time.
Many months followed, everywhere and nowhere. Regensburg, Munich. Suicide attempt, clinic, heart operation. Out of rehab, back in the woods. To survive, he stole potatoes from the field and empties from open garages. He first invested the money in alcohol. He slept in abandoned gazebos or in the wilderness, rolled up in a plastic tarp. At that time he was no longer in control of his senses, unable to pull himself up to get the money he was entitled to from the office. He knew how close it was. “I’m going to die soon now.”
Lots of sky and light: Chris Kuehlke shows his picture, which he painted as part of the art project for the homeless.
(Photo: Robert Haas)
Dying. It can only be guessed at as the leitmotif of the installation, but it is still its starting point, says Heike Beck from the hospice association Da-Sein. Four years ago she was called to an emergency shelter to attend to the dying. Beck saw that this was not a dignified environment, and the staff there were also at a loss. What can be done for the dying? Talk about
The idea arose to network the hospice service and the homeless help, the message was: “There is someone.” Companions who also come to the invisible and also offer them palliative medical care. Part two of the cooperation is to let the rest of Munich know about it. We don’t just go to those in an ordinary apartment.
The art project has grown over months and can now be seen for a few days, delayed due to Corona. The topic doesn’t seem to fit the summer at all, but it is the same with poverty and wealth. Here Maximilianstrasse, on the Isar the mattress dormitory. You can’t get together and still both exist, need and luxury.
Eight to nine thousand people do not have an apartment in Munich; they spend the night outside, in emergency quarters or in houses like on Knorrstrasse. The number has more than tripled within a decade and has been falling slightly since 2017, at least in statistics. This is mainly due to the fact that some refugees have found an apartment or are now content with a friend’s couch. And nobody knows how many people sleep outside. According to statistics, there are 550, in fact it has long been around 1000, the official census was postponed due to Corona. Fates have congealed into an unreported number.
How bright and white, on the other hand, are the walls in the art pavilion. The paintings in the installation consist of twelve panels each, like puzzles they fit together to form two street views, designed by several artists. The therapists Frank and Huttner distributed the panels to their clients in the various houses months ago; due to the pandemic, it was not possible to paint together. They made rough guidelines on photos, Maximilianstrasse above, bridges and sleeping places below.
Norbert Middel, 56, interpreted his part freely, he let ivy grow, he made templates for the many green leaves. And he built in the “mouth of truth”. Every tourist in Rome knows the marble slice into which you put your hand. Because the marble slab was probably once a manhole cover, it occurred to Middel, as such a manhole cover is also at street level.
He drinks around five beers every night. He can do that, that’s okay
Chris Kuehlke, 66, also painted several parts, lots of sky and clouds. Kuehlke is German, but speaks English because he lived in the USA until recently. He had been adopted as a child, his life was not going well, he only made a few hints.
In his mid-60s he wanted to go back to the country where he was born, he says. He arrived in 2019 with $ 35 in his pocket, starting out on a train station mission. He likes to paint and draw, and he shows photos of his pictures on his mobile phone. Sometimes exact portraits, sometimes artistic, colorful patterns. “That’s my passion.” Blue and white is his sky for the installation. A symbol? Kuehlke ponders. What was he thinking about while painting? Not dying, life was in his head, “I thought about life.”
Perhaps Herrmann Arbinger is still there because at some point he got on the S-Bahn, drove with his last bit of energy from the outside to the inside, into the city, Pilgersheimer Strasse. There is the first port of call for many homeless people. What he did not expect happened, he says. They were friendly, listened and thought about how things could go on for the man from the forest.
He moved into a house in Oberschleissheim to get completely dry. But that wasn’t for him, so on to Knorrstrasse. There he drinks around five beers every evening. He can do that, that’s okay, the main thing is that he has 0.0 per mil the next morning. He has to blow every day, they have agreed that he can only work without residual alcohol. For some, this is better, says Tanja Frank, than without alcohol at all.
Arbinger is back in contact with his children and is happy that they made something of themselves. The other day they had a barbecue together, he says it can be done again. They don’t talk about his time in the forest. But he wants to tell, also publicly, in the video. Once he ran out of matches to light a fire. So he ran to a cemetery because there are always candles burning there. He took one and walked back for miles, very carefully, to keep the flame.
The installation can be seen until Sunday in the art pavilion, Sophienstrasse 7a. Friday 2 p.m. to 8 p.m., weekend 11 a.m. to 8 p.m.