Fascination with Urban Cortyards

Among my urban fascinations, there's one particular topic I find especially intriguing: the courtyards of tenement buildings. It's hard to articulate exactly why these courtyards captivate me so. They are typical of cities in this part of Europe, especially of Berlin. In the past, these backyards were not only frequented by the tenants of the surrounding houses but also housed various craftsmen's workshops. Perhaps my fascination stems from them being hidden worlds, isolated from the bustling outside.

Over the years, many of these once-neglected courtyards have transformed dramatically, shifting from unsightly, abandoned spaces to small urban oases. I've had the privilege of experiencing some of these courtyards in their untouched state, which were often unwelcoming, shadowed, and at times, perilous. Since the reunification of Germany, the all-too-familiar sight of courtyards with waste containers and derelict cars has almost vanished from Berlin's landscape. Nowadays, it's more common to stumble upon a verdant garden, a trendy bar, or a hipster shop within these courtyards, if they're open to the public at all. Yet, not too far from Berlin, in Szczecin—roughly 130 km to the northeast—many courtyards remain in their forsaken condition. However, even in Szczecin, these remnants of the past are gradually fading from the urban scene.

My past experiences with courtyards have been largely negative. I partially grew up in Szczecin, which I now almost think of as a hidden district of Berlin, but set in a different time-space continuum. As a teenager, I was warned to avoid these courtyards and to steer clear of tenement building entrances, especially after dark. These entrances were often occupied by young residents of the buildings. For them, these spots served as meeting points; they knew everyone living on their street and every hidden passage. If they were looking to party and needed cash, they'd simply drag unsuspecting passersby into the entrance, rob them, and vanish within moments. An unspoken "Vegas Rule" prevailed: what happens in the courtyard, stays in the courtyard.

Once, naively trying to assist an older woman with her heavy bag, I ventured into one such courtyard. As soon as we crossed the threshold, I found myself surrounded by a group of young individuals demanding my wallet. One of them held a large, exotic coconut, suggesting that I could have it instead of my head if I resisted. The older woman began yelling at the youths, and they eventually settled for just taking my cigarettes. Although the police station was right across the street, it felt worlds away in that moment.

Nowdays, those dangerous youngsters are grown up, moved away, started their own families and disappiered from then landscape. Many of the apartments have been privatized and new the new owners come from a better social background. It's not dangerous anymore, but I still fear to go inside. I think that a small dose of adrenaline and scare is a desired ingredient I need to take an interesting photo. That's why I'm so attracted by the courtyards and people there. 

I am not the only one who found the obscure architecture worth focusing on. Among other artists who inspire me I'd like to mention two painters Jaroslaw Eysymont and Konrad Knebel.  

Der Canaletto vom Prenzlauer-berg

Jaroslaw Eysymont