Next time you ride the U8, you may notice something unexpected on the platform at Schönleinstraße. Measuring one and a half metres on all sides, the glass display box features two posed mannequins dressed in crimson clothes.
Artist Irving Ramó first noticed this advertisement a year ago, not for its promise of “100% handmade and 100% organic” clothing, but for its potential for a different purpose: as a space for showcasing site-specific art. Intrigued, Ramó and his creative partner, fellow artist Aquiles Jarrín, contacted the clothing store and traced the vitrine rental back to advertising distributor Die Draussenwerber, an ad space provider that, along with parent company Wall GmbH, rents spots in the U-Bahn stations of Berlin.
In a public space devoted to one activity…doing something unexpected creates a slight tear in the social fabric.
These rentals are usually of the more conventional variety, like the large-scale billboards on the walls beyond the tracks. (The BVG once managed the advertising within its stations but contracted out this responsibility in 2008.) Ramó and Jarrín now rent a display case at Alt-Tempelhof, where they organise the exhibition of an artist’s work each month. Originally from Quito, Ecuador, they named their underground gallery Ventana Project, aptly referring to the word for ‘window’ in Spanish.
The pair is not alone in recognising the opportunity presented by the U-Bahn display cases. Two other groups began renting around the same time a year ago: Halt 21/7 at Alt-Mariendorf and Passage at Hermannplatz. Independently organised, all three initiatives decided on a dizzying schedule – showcasing a new artist each month.
The members of these groups operate not only as curators of their vitrines but also facilitate and participate in the installation of the artworks, coordinating the promotion with opening and closing celebrations that lucky commuters might catch on their way home from work.
Today, there are 27 display cases in Berlin, scattered across 15 U-Bahn stations. Originally, the vitrines – implemented with Berlin’s U-Bahn in the early 1900s – were intended for local businesses to advertise their shop’s wares. A century ago, shop owners would create ornate displays filled with luxury goods: floor-length fur coats, leather satchels, satin corsets, polished silverware, porcelain tableware.
The few businesses that still advertise in these vitrines do so in a haphazard fashion – the configurations feel nostalgic at best. Retail businesses would rather advertise with staged photography of their products, reproduced as glossy posters or billboards. And so the vitrines often sit empty, their neglect reflecting the overall decay of many of the city’s underground train stations. For now, only a handful of the display cases have been transformed into spaces for engaging with contemporary art.
Building a network
When I meet Ramó and Jarrín on the platform of Alt-Tempelhof, we can’t avoid discussing the fist-sized crack in the glass. Someone has smashed one side of the vitrine, and Jarrín tells me this is the second instance of vandalism in two months. Thankfully, the artist whose work was being showcased, Katya Quel, didn’t mind, and it is the rental agency’s responsibility to repair the glass. Quel had filled the freestanding vitrine with resin castles dripping in pink neon goo, adorned with childish trinkets. Along the platform, children excitedly dragged their parents over for a closer view.
This project is allowing the pair to solidify their roles as curators by increasing their connections to artists and institutions. The Ventana pair are enthusiastic as they discuss their upcoming plans at art institutions in both Spain and Ecuador. Their network also includes budding art dealers Victor Auberjonois and Konrad Biedenkopf, the duo organising Passage.
Coincidentally, both Ventana Project and Passage curated U-Bahn shows featuring the raucous and attention-demanding work of Marcus Nelson; in June, a life-size casting of the artist crouched on his hands and knees was encased in the freestanding vitrine at Alt-Tempelhof.
I enjoy an exhibition space that feels like it is a sculpture in and of itself.
At Hermannplatz, the Passage vitrine is neatly tucked into the bend where many commuters rush down to U7 and up the stairs to the adjoining U8 platform. This portion of the station opened in 1926; parts of the once-grand ceiling are now reinforced with patches of bolted panels. In September, a frame wrapped in moss green velvet was suspended in the vitrine. The artist, Amrita Dhillon, has painted the fabric so that a figure seems to be emerging from a heavy rain. The economical gestures suggest the melancholic image of a woman turned away from the viewer. This piece is titled Cold Shoulder.
Auberjonois and Biedenkopf will be renting this vitrine for a total of two years, and they’ve made considerable investments in optimising the approximately five-metre display case. By cladding the bottom and back walls of the vitrine in metal sheets, they have magnetised the entire interior, making the installation process within the elevated pentagonal space much more straightforward. Along with an LED-lit ceiling that provides adequate and flattering lighting for the artwork, typically a painting, the space is well-equipped for exhibitions.
With a background in finance and blue-chip art galleries, Auberjonois brings a distinct business savvy to Passage. He understands the appeal and charm of displaying artworks in an underground public space. “I enjoy an exhibition space that feels like it is a sculpture in and of itself,” he says. This not only entices artists to exhibit with Passage but, through outreach to their network of collectors, has resulted in sales – something that helps offset the upgrades they’ve made to the vitrine.
However, Passage is not interested in establishing a traditional gallery business by representing a roster of artists. Instead, what excites Auberjonois is the possibility of franchising Passage. He is encouraging friends in Mexico City, Paris and New York City to set up their own single-artwork exhibition spaces, the requirements being that the display is in public and that visitors cannot enter it.
He stresses the importance of displaying a single artwork, which “asks people to focus”. “If you present a painting in such a location, in a place of transit, it’s the lowest commitment for a viewer,” Auberjonois says. “You can walk past, or if you want to miss your train, you can stay and look at it longer.”
Renovation station
This resurgence of interest in U-Bahn vitrines has been supported by several factors: lower rental costs for these underutilised ad spaces, flexible terms offered by the advertising agency, and an optimism among those leading these art initiatives in the possibilities of self-directed projects.
The organisers of these three active U-Bahn vitrines were also motivated by the frustration that so many of the displays sit empty. This was the case for Tiziana Krüger, who first noticed them on her daily commute. “I found this vitrine because I have my atelier here in Alt-Mariendorf. Every time I took the metro, I saw this empty space and I thought it’s such a pity because it’s so nice.”
Krüger, a sculptural artist, assembled a team to help her realise this project: product designer Anna Koppmann, along with architects Max Bilger and Helene Peters. Halt 21/7, named for its accessibility 21 hours a day, 7 days a week, is invested in displaying work as multi-disciplinary as their own collective.
While many of Berlin’s U-Bahn display cases are freestanding, the Alt-Mariendorf case – like the one at Hermannplatz – is notable because it is incorporated into the architecture of the station. As one descends to the platform in the elevator, the vitrine, three metres wide by two metres tall, is perfectly framed. “The glass doors of the elevator open onto the vitrine like the curtains of a theatre,” Krüger describes.
Their inaugural installation in January, ‘Der Moderator’, was the group’s nod to the vitrine’s relationship to a stage performance as a one-sided visual interaction. Filling the one-metre-deep case, tightly woven grey fabric was carefully gathered and creased mostly at the sides, suggesting a curtain about to be raised.
Halt 21/7 embraces the spirit of Berlin’s longstanding ‘project space’ culture, in which art organisations characterised by a community focus operate on a non-profit basis in unconventional venues. Despite the cost, the collective also took on the vitrine renovation. When they first rented the case, Krüger explains, “it was really bad. It was mouldy and rotten; we had to tear out everything and we built a whole new interior structure.”
Fortunately, funding from the Dezentrale Kulturarbeit Tempelhof-Schöneberg alleviated some of the financial burden of the renovation. The group stripped the box down to the station’s stone walls. They then designed and produced a modular system consisting of an optional raised platform and side panelling, providing flexibility for artists to determine the framework of the exhibition space.
Studio Alibi, an art collective run by Darrell Weisner and Johannes Bansmann that exhibited in April, fully embraced this adaptability, Krüger says. “We want to break out of the display function, that’s why Studio Alibi’s installation with the street lantern almost seemed surrealistic. You come downstairs to the metro and all of a sudden you see a street lantern bent and squeezed into the vitrine.”
Neighbours frequenting the Alt-Mariendorf station have picked up on the monthly installation rhythm, to the point where they are excitedly asking what will be displayed next, Krüger reports. “Two women who work for the BVG maintaining the station are always very keen to see what’s next and ask about the motivation behind the art installations.”
Next stop
Despite their growing popularity, the future of Berlin’s transport-adjacent art spaces remains uncertain. The Alt-Mariendorf station was designed in 1966 by the architect Rainer G. Rümmler, known for his brash, postmodern station designs. Now registered as a Baudenkmal, or architectural monument, the station’s features – including the vitrine – enjoy a certain level of protection from change. In contrast, the freestanding display case at Moabit’s Birkenstraße station did not share this privilege; during renovations, it was removed after almost 60 years in a 2019 renovation.
For the three and a half years before its destruction, the project space Vitrine 01 exhibited at Birkenstraße, organising 49 group and solo exhibitions by artists and designers. Enveloping one of the pillars on the platform of the station, the case was double-sided, allowing for two simultaneous tenants. The organisers of Vitrine 01 rented the case for much cheaper than the vitrines usually cost, with the understanding that it would be demolished.
Curator and artist Franziska Harnisch, who took over the project in 2017, says it’s important to continue the tradition of the U-Bahn exhibition. “I don’t know if organisers at the other train stations have the same experience, but Vitrine 01 was very popular with homeless people who find overnight accommodation in the underground stations. For them, the exhibition’s openings were a welcome change from their everyday lives.”
Auberjonois has definitely found this to be the case while installing artworks at Hermannplatz. In a public space devoted to one activity – transit – doing something unexpected creates a slight tear in the social fabric. People sheltering in the underground find commonality in the unconventionality, and often initiate conversation as work is being done.
Halt 21/7 has hope that additional funding will allow the collective to continue their project; Krüger also envisions a festival of U-Bahn vitrine exhibitions but acknowledges that navigating the city’s “jungle of bureaucracy” requires at least two years of planning for art funding. Passage plans to continue at Hermannplatz through 2025, aiming to scale the project globally through franchises.
Ventana Project is moving to a display case in U-Bahn Gesundbrunnen in the spring, while also maintaining an above-ground vitrine they operate in Mitte. At the end of October, Passage and Ventana Project opened ‘Indiscret’, a month-long joint group show near Hermannplatz centred on the theme of voyeurism, featuring a curved glass storefront display.
The compact size of these U-Bahn vitrines, set within an often overstimulating environment (think rush hour at Hermannplatz), presents a unique creative challenge, encouraging artists to make a lasting visual impression in the few minutes between trains. While institutional art spaces can feel increasingly didactic, there is something refreshing about the potential of public art to elicit an unexpected, visceral experience, transforming mundane tasks like a daily commute.
The display cases, a fairly affordable and manageable public space, have also provided these organisers with the opportunity to curate. “People forget what ‘curator’ means – the word comes from the Latin ‘cūrāre’, which means to take care of,” says Auberjonois. “Each viewer’s thoughts are different from the next, and being in a place of transit, people have nothing but time to think. By presenting in public space, you accompany them on their journeys.”
