I visited Berlin for the first time in 1996, seven years after the wall fell and the city was wondrously reunified. The capitol was being planned, new developments were underway, and there were construction cranes hovering over every street corner. I still recognize that city, one of broad, low streets lined with stately old trees and sensible apartment blocks. It possessed a quietness and ease that, in most residential neighborhoods, is still there. But something else is gone, a sense that Berlin was largely private, that it allowed for pockets of emptiness and eccentricity that just wouldn’t be possible in a busier, wealthier city.
Then at the Winterfeldplatz green market on Saturday morning, beyond the tables with gorgeous spreads of sausages, breads and vegetables, I saw an apartment tower that looked as if it had been airlifted in from a commune, or from Mars. Tall and flower-like, it had puce-colored metal siding and balconies spinning off its spine in all directions. A friend explained that it had been designed by Hinrich Baller, Berlin’s “hippie architect." Baller, who still works in the city, builds in the visionary-fantastic tradition of German modernists like Bruno Taut and Hans Scharoun. But his work seems more personal than theirs, a bit like that of American architect Bruce Goff. Seeing Baller’s very original building perched at the edge of the old square reassured me that, in some places, the other Berlin was still here.
