soon to be gone for good, the Eggartenhäuser grew over the years unnoticed by most. A new residential development will soon hause 2000 souls in this forgotten patch of Munich.
built between the 1920 and 1930, these rows of Gewofag social housing development in Neuhausen enjoy the protection of the city for its heritage value. Best enjoyed in the late afternoon, when the low sun beams brings the three-dimensionality of the details to the eye.
Not far from the habitation blocks of the Gewofag, the Kunstlerhof adds a new dimension to the neighbourhood. Old chained bicycles likely made to be here, waiting for the artist to come down her atelier with her smeared apron still on and take a ride to the café.
wagons once threaded this plain and filled the night with echos of metallic giggle, where now nature and new settlers walk around still puzzled how to classify what they see in their Saturday’s afternoon walk. Here and there, if you stop long enough to see through the signs, you can see the ghosts of those railroad tracks and ties under thickening vegetation. The sudden idle beds of track ballast stand questioning their purpose now like dry wounds in the meadows.
Hidden in the woods, old tracks, fallen lampposts, gates with nothing to gate, lost ponds. And an old adjoining settlement. Despite the looks, no vignetting is applied to the photographies.
The old bed wagons factory witness yet one other kind of resettlement: partly spooky, partly trashy, and certainly worth walking through.
some works of infrastructure happen to become social spaces of gathering like the Hackerbrücke and others become infamous places to run away from like the Paul-Heyse tunnel under the main train station in Munich.
Both works of infrastructure satisfy very well a practical need, and a comparison is from the very beginning unfair: We perceive bridges as beautiful works rather more often than we do about tunnels. But there are reasons why anyone would try to pass through this tunnel the swiftest the better: It is terribly noisy, dark, dirty, the tiled walls crumble, mucky water drops from the ceiling in several spots, way too narrow for bicyclists and pedestrians to use the sideways safely.
Yet, it is a landmark of Munich. Not one that you would like to show to any tourist, but one that tells a story. After all some stories are made of the words that aren’t said.
Former office building of a transportation company before an urban development transformation will turn her into an embalmed memory of the industrial past.
The last days of a photographic feast of subdued hues of old off the old Rhenania building that soon will become a renovated hallmark of the new Werksviertel in Munich.