fun, fun, fun auf die autobahn

After some years of trying and with a long incubation time to anticipate—and intervening events that made public gatherings a show of defiance and courage—H arranged for us to see the legendary and pioneering Kraftwerk at the Jahrhunderthalle in Frankfurt, a brilliant and classic performance in living 3D, not just the performers on stage but spectacularly also their backdrop.
True to their founding principles, the group, harking back to a formative time in 1970 in Düsseldorf when the genre of electronic was theirs to define, the ensemble gave a dazzling and unforgettable performance whose message is yet resonant throughout the decades—especially poignant considering how the whole audience, despite, in spite and rather because of their seniority were also viewing ad preserving the concert on their mobile devices. Their now signature use of the minimoog and the vocoder for synthesized voices on their 1975 album Autobahn cemented their international reputation and to English-speakers, the title song—progressing out of the experimental and desparaging label of “Krautrock,” fahren, fahren, fahren was a misunderstood lyric.
There was a significant pause while the stage-hands put out the iconic figures, during which I entertained for a moment the idea that the band might have invited the talented elementary school class in nearby Darmstadt that made their own version of Wir sind die Roboter to appear with them but I knew it was already well past their bedtimes.

viennese sandbox: graben u. stephansplatz

The High Street shopping district of Vienna known as the Graben (ditch) originally marked the western extent of the Roman settlement Vindobona. By the late twelfth century, the city had grown extensively and the city walls were enlarged, financed in part by the king’s ransom for Richard Lionheart. 

Its chief monument—though it’s hard to speech in such terms in a place as ornate and storied as this—is the Baroque Pestsäule (Plague Column), dedicated to uphold the souls of the victims of one of Europe’s last great epidemics of the pestilence in the late sixteen hundreds.

Just opposite the boulevard (with some modern juxtaposition in between) is the massive cathedral of Saint Stephen (Stephansdom), seat of the archdiocese—was also commissioned in the twelfth century but construction spanned hundreds of years and as with Köln, the building is never really complete, to better accommodate the spiritual needs of that growing populace and to accentuate the Hapsburgs’ importance during the Age of Crusades (hundreds of saintly relics and miraculous icons are kept inside). 

The sprawling architecture and ornamentation of the edifice is not only a witness to dynastic movements but also an interesting reflection of changing culture and commerce, with standard weights and measures of trade displayed on the exterior walls (the ell for gauging bolts of fabric) and a church bell assigned to ring out last call for the neighbourhood pubs. 

5x5

queen of the nile: Egyptologists are most assured that Nefertiti is buried in a newly discovered chamber in Tutankhamun’s tomb

lorentz invariance: next month, the European Space Agency will launch a probe to confirm or deny the last major phenomenon predicted by the General Theory of Relativity—gravitational waves

bulla bulla: one linguist takes on the nomenclature and naming-conventions of a Swedish furniture giant

pretty maids all in a row: the brilliant BLDGBlog ponders further on the cyborg plant trials

arachne: genetic analysis of spider webs reveal that they incorporate the DNA of their prey in their weaving

viennese sandbox: secessionist

Whilst in Vienna, H and I of course paid our respects at what’s described as a temple to Art Nouveau (Jugendstil) design. The Secession Building is not a museum on the interior, as we discovered after being confronted with a gallery of quite nice but incongruous exhibition of grainy photographs of rippling water and stars—though I suppose appropriate for celebrating the centennial of Einstein’s big and world-changing ideas, but rather as a hall for embracing the avant-garde as the founding artists had done.
The space was mostly empty and we had to wonder if this mop-head wasn’t in fact art or a decoy for one to make one’s own.

Descending to the basement, we discovered the Beethoven Frieze (EN/DE), created by Gustav Klimt, which was really a transfixing sight to behold with all its receding references: an interpretation of the composer’s Ninth Symphony (also known as Ode to Joy with lyrics by Friedrich Schiller), scored by Richard Wagner and performed by Max Klinger, in statuary-form.
The fresco itself also was executed only as a temporary decoration for a 1903 showing of contemporary artists, but was preserved by a collector with foresight and carefully prised off the wall upstairs before being installed in its permanent home. The Muse of Poetry looks like she’s consulting a tablet computer and does not want to be bothered (photography was not allowed and monitored, which made the experience all the more holy—down a rabbit hole of allegory) and stands in between an angelic choir and the monstrous giant Typhœus, the gorilla creature, attended by his Gorgon daughters—all elements in the struggle of the tone poem that became a national hymn.
The frieze ends with a knight in shining armour having doffed his protection and embracing his damsel in distress, illustrating the final stanza of “this kiss to the whole world,” diesen Kuss der ganzen Welt. Outside we spied one of the ubiquitous pedestrian crossing signs that Vienna installed to celebrate its inclusive victory in the Eurovision song contest—depicting the freedom to love whomever.