There is a photo of Ursulina Schüler-Witte from her apartment in Berlin-Reinickendorf. She sits in front of a well-stocked wall of books and looks at the photographer the way she often looked at the world: challenging. Facing everything that may come. There is a white sheet of paper on the table. Ready to take in the idea of something to come. Behind is a model of the legendary Do X.
Claude Dornier dreamed up the flying boat in the 1920s, a century ago, when the future was still a longing promise. The Do X, discarded by the Nazis due to its lack of military capability and proven inefficiency, was a sort of Bauhaus with wings that could swim. A flywatüut. Something utopian.
It is comforting to think that the architect, who died in May at the age of 89 and whose death only became known these days through the obituary of the State Museum for Modern Art, Photography and Architecture, could simply be out and about. On the way to new horizons. And also away from the long years (and still today) so tiresome inconclusive discussion about her main work. This is the International Congress Center, ICC, which she designed together with her husband Ralf Schüler in the late 1970s.
The building, which the Berliners – which is always a good sign – has been given numerous nicknames (a selection: spaceship, Noah’s Ark, armored cruiser Charlottenburg, aluminum monster) is one of the sights and space-forming architectural sensations of Berlin. In the past, when you were still allowed to approach the capital in a way that is shamefully forbidden today, i.e. rushing in a car from West Germany (always too fast, always rushing into the speed trap on the Avus, but you were also in love, including in Berlin ), you could see the 313 meter long, 89 meter wide and 40 meter high colossal building right behind the Avus grandstand. Wow, one thought, Berlin, really now. What madness.
We also have her to thank for the “Bierpinsel”.
In its silver-grey aluminum cladding, the ICC is a masterpiece of technoid architecture. The Lloyd’s Building in London (opened in 1986) or the Center Pompidou in Paris (opened in 1977) are close high-tech relatives of the ICC in Berlin. The ICC always showed its desire for the future with an exhibitionist self-image on the outside, but on the inside it was and is of excellently thought-out functionality. For this reason alone, the idea of demolishing the almost half-century-old building because of the high need for renovation is absurd.
The beer brush in Berlin-Steglitz.
(Photo: Jens Kalaene/dpa)
Nothing has enraged Ursulina Schüler-Witte more in recent years. After the death of her husband eleven years ago, she was left alone in the fight against a Berlin construction policy that could not be more weary of the future. In an era of dwindling resources and climate-intensive construction, such a building has to be converted and used again. You have to activate your spatial potential. Only Berlin can come up with the wrecking ball idea instead. The architect has also shown herself to be truly progressive in the struggle for the survival of her main work: she was never just concerned with the architectural vanity of creativity and copyright, but always with the need to use what was built in new ways. This is the architectural thinking of the hour. Up until the very end, Ursulina Schüler-Witte was up to date.
Incidentally, around 250 projects and buildings originate from the planning couple Schüler-Witte. In 2010 the Berlinische Galerie was entrusted with the sketches, plans and models that document the enormously emblematic work for Berlin – including pop icons such as the underground station in Steglitz or the tower restaurant there (called “Bierpinsel”). We also have the museum to thank for the news of the architect’s death. The news is sad, but the idea of an architect setting off into the future in Fliewatüüt is comforting.