Pirmasens, Germany. In a landscape of dark forests and narrow valleys, a landscape that could not be a more picturebook scene of a German “Wald” lays the smalltown of Primasens. Here in the back of beyond, my great-grandfather practiced as an architect and was head of the municipal building department in the late twenties and early thirties of the last century. Although I never met him, I always felt a relation to my great-grandfather just for the mere fact that he was also an architect. Our profession has the advantage (or disadvantage) that the works stay on longer than their creators; we can thus leave messages behind through our buildings. But this in only one side of the dilemma to be constantly lingering between illusions of omnipotence, when it comes to the impact of one’s works, and a regular experiences of impotence, when it comes to the realities in the building process. A zig-zag between immortality and irrelevance. So, in Pirmasens, I traced the works of my great-grandfather, and was curious to see what he left behind.
As an architect for the municipality he built public buildings, a housing estate, a vocational school, a chapel on the cemetery, a primary school, and the public pool. The style of these buildings could be described as modern conservative. No frills, but also no experiments. Clean surfaces, and elegant proportions. Warm-hearted in some ways. An attribute that is not always found in modern buildings.
The public pool is probably his best work in Pirmasens. But it is also puzzling. Inside, the main hall is decorated with a large mural that depicts in quite a realistic style Germanic looking boys and girls exercising. I remember my grandmother telling me about the painter and his Jewish wife, and the latter’s exile in England. How does this fit together: the modern building in a style that was later declared “un-German” by the Nazis, the rather Nazi-style paintings by a painter married to a Jew, who went into exile? Probably, the lines that cut the puzzle into pieces are only apparent in hindsight.Pirmasens, Germany. In a landscape of dark forests and narrow valleys, a landscape that could not be a more picturebook scene of a German “Wald” lays the smalltown of Primasens. Here in the back of beyond, my great-grandfather practiced as an architect and was head of the municipal building department in the late twenties and early thirties of the last century. Although I never met him, I always felt a relation to my great-grandfather just for the mere fact that he was also an architect. Our profession has the advantage (or disadvantage) that the works stay on longer than their creators; we can thus leave messages behind through our buildings. But this in only one side of the dilemma to be constantly lingering between illusions of omnipotence, when it comes to the impact of one’s works, and a regular experiences of impotence, when it comes to the realities in the building process. A zig-zag between immortality and irrelevance. So, in Pirmasens, I traced the works of my great-grandfather, and was curious to see what he left behind.
As an architect for the municipality he built public buildings, a housing estate, a vocational school, a chapel on the cemetery, a primary school, and the public pool. The style of these buildings could be described as modern conservative. No frills, but also no experiments. Clean surfaces, and elegant proportions. Warm-hearted in some ways. An attribute that is not always found in modern buildings.
The public pool is probably his best work in Pirmasens. But it is also puzzling. Inside, the main hall is decorated with a large mural that depicts in quite a realistic style Germanic looking boys and girls exercising. I remember my grandmother telling me about the painter and his Jewish wife, and the latter’s exile in England. How does this fit together: the modern building in a style that was later declared “un-German” by the Nazis, the rather Nazi-style paintings by a painter married to a Jew, who went into exile? Probably, the lines that cut the puzzle into pieces are only apparent in hindsight.