I spent the last couple of days in Stuttgart in southern Germany. I learnt some interesting things, first of which was that Stuttgart is in southern Germany. The name of the town seems to have been known to me forever, and for some reason I had placed it in a hazy geographical region of Germany somewhere near Frankfurt. It constantly surprises me how little I know but how much I take for granted.
I racked my brains for reasons I should even know of the existence of Stuttgart and came up with two. I knew that Mercedes Benz and Porsche had a Stuttgart connection, and I knew that James Stirling's Staatsgalerie from the 1970's was there (above). I studied Architecture in the early 1970's and Stirling was a bit of a hero for us young, Scottish students. His work really seemed new and his famous buildings of the time (Leicester University Engineering building and the History Faculty at Cambridge for example) were icons. The isometric drawings of the latter were poster material for us. His style has been labelled post-modern, and is often cited as the foundation of postmodernism. However I think he was more original and his style developed from real architectural solutions rather than the grand, kitsch gestures that characterise a lot of what came afterwards under the postmodernist banner.
Stirlings modern additions to the classical old building are striking even today and have worn well both materially and stylistically- I should add that the inside of the building is also fundamental to Stirlings design, but conditions prevented me taking any photos. Next time maybe.
They have to be in colour to show the architectural ideas
I discovered that Stuttgart was the home town of Friedrich Schiller. A figure I certainly knew about although my understanding is not deep. Best known as the author of "An die Freude" - the Ode to Joy of Beethovens 9th symphony and his collaboration with Goethe. Here is the great man surveying the old buildings of Schillerplatz.
In another work, "On Naive and Sentimental Poetry" he wrestles with the distinction between what is natural and instinctive and what is contrived (my simplification). This topic translates well into many different areas - John Le Carre used it in his book "The Naive and Sentimental Lover" to illuminate human relations - or was it the other way round? Although I am by no means someone who sees things in black and white (photography aside) I have an instinctive feeling that there are often clear watersheds where an idea or a topic tends to divide. I'm certain there is such a thing in what we call "photography" - maybe a "Naive and Sentimental Photography" - but I haven't yet been able to pin it down for myself.
I'm not sure what Schillers stature is today. If you are interested,The Schiller Institute website provides a good starting place.
Walking back to the railway station from Schillerplatz I passed the new Stuttgart Kunstmuseum. I almost immediately pinned this sculpture down as Alexander Calder. Calder is an artist whose works have been nudging me in the ribs recently - I seem to bump into them everywhere. I really like his quiet playfulness, and the sculptures enrich many public spaces
Back on the subject of photography, As I was wandering about the gallery complex I took this photo.
It's not an astounding photo, and wouldn't make it into my 100 greatest hits collection but it illustrates one of the subjects that catches my eye. I call it "fly in the soup" but there is a technical term which for the moment eludes me. Don't think fly-in-minestrone-soup, but more fly-in-cream-of-chicken. You see the idea - some kind of uniformity but with some object which sits on it a little incongruously while being part of the scene. Its often a simple and familiar contrast - sometimes more complex. Usually works well in black and white because it needs the simplification
There are quite a few other intersting things explore in this city, so I'll probably be back, given it's easy access from Zurich
Finally, here is the first picture converted to B+W. I like it much better as a pure photograph, but it does not serve the documentary purpose required if we want to show and discuss James Stirling's work. Two clearly different objectives.
All photos Leica M8, 28mm Elmarit.
