Laura Schieferle, the branch manager of Munich's Kunstareal (art quarter), knows the site and all its cultural institutions inside out. In this interview, she shares her personal favourites.
When asked about a must-visit destination in the Kunstareal (art quarter) for anyone with limited time, I always recommend the Lenbachhaus (art gallery). It's the most Munich-like museum, and the Blauer Reiter (group of artists) collection is an unique gem. Yet, what often goes unnoticed by visitors is that the lettering above the entrance is also a masterpiece in itself, crafted by Thomas Demand, a Munich-born artist, who today enjoys worldwide acclaim.
He has superimposed two typefaces in this work. In the background is a serif font, reminiscent of the era of the museum's founding in 1929. Above it, he placed a very narrow and elegant grotesque font, i.e. a sans-serif, similar to that currently employed by the Lenbachhaus. The work from 2012 is as functional as it is subtle. On the one hand, it simply serves as lettering for the building. However, the difference between the two fonts, which becomes clear on closer inspection, mirrors nothing less than the museum's almost century-long history.
The “Museum für Abgüsse Klassischer Bildwerke“ (Museum for Casts of Classical Sculptures), which is the correct name, is one of the smaller institutions in the Kunstareal. Here, visitors do not encounter originals, but reproductions of famous sculptures from various corners across the globe. The special feature of a casts museum is that most of these reproductions have been supplemented and missing noses, arms and legs that fell victims to history, have been recreated here according to current knowledge.
This gives you a very vivid impression of what the artwork once looked like in its original state. I appreciate the tranquillity of this space. Usually you see highly focussed students here, drawing, using the casts for anatomical sketches. The casts museum is also suitable for a short visit, as admission is free – and it is even open on Mondays.
There is one artefact in the “Kunsthandwerk“ room (arts & craft room) of the Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst (Egyptian Museum), that never fails to fascinate me. It is a glass goblet from Pharaoh Thutmosis III. At around 3,500 years old, it is the oldest datable glass vessel in the world, considering that glass production probably only began 500 years earlier. The goblet, adorned with the pharaoh's name, still impresses today with its extravagant, blue marbled colour. Inside are the black, resinous remains of a dried substance. It is assumed that this substance was a cosmetic product and that the goblet served as a container for storing it.
What fascinates me about this object is that it is not just a work of art, but a tangible everyday object. Over 3,000 years ago, someone filled it and then it was placed in the pharaoh's tomb. A small window into a long-forgotten world that is now suddenly filled with colour and life again.
When my son was three years old, he mentioned one day after kindergarten: “Today, I was in the Schlaraffenland (land of milk and honey). You get there via a big staircase”. Initially, I did not grasp what he meant, but later I learnt that the kindergarten had visited the Alte Pinakothek (art gallery) and that one work of art was shown and explained to the children there: Pieter Bruegel’s “Schlaraffenland“ from 1567. Indeed, you have to ascend the stairs to view it; hence my son's description of the location.
Many museums in the Kunstareal focus on mediation and I think this example is an absolute success. Rushing children through an entire museum can be tiring and reduce their enthusiasm for future visits. Here, the approach is entirely different: The group focused on one single, but highly detailed work. When my son returned home, he enthusiastically shared the details of the painting, such as the egg with a knife, walking on legs. Through this experience, he will have a lifelong connection to Bruegel.
Time and again, I see people getting off the tram in Barerstrasse, looking up in amazement as they spot a basketball hoop on the roof of a TUM building. At first glance, it seems like a normal basketball hoop, like the ones you get on sports fields. However, what sets this one apart is its lofty height – estimated at just under 20 meters.
You can literally see the thought bubbles above the heads of the onlookers: “What's it doing up there?“, “Who can throw that high?“, “Wait a minute, that's impossible!“ For me, this work is a splendid illustration of how art, especially contemporary art, works. It provokes, challenges, raises questions and harbours utopian potential. The astonished viewers often continue on their way with a smile – what more could you want?
