I initially felt some reassurance by the recent BLDGBLG entry on a record breaking artificial tornado created in the Mercedes Benz museum in Stuttgart.  Only to then find out that the motivation behind this vortex was not semiotic or representative at all, but the result of a pretty amazing fire strategy that allowed for an open floor design completely free of fire doors.

From Autoblog, via BLDGBLG:

“The twister takes around seven minutes to materialize and is generated by 144 jets and 28 tons of air. The low pressure area at the center of the tornado works to create a jet stream that draws smoke out of the building’s corridors and funnels it upwards and out an exhaust vent on the roof.”

The tornado fire strategy seems intrinsically linked to the morphological concept of the museum: an ascending double helix (The Mercedes DNA) spins and ramps the museum program continuously around the central atrium space, which is now revealed to us as the focus not only of of the building’s representative program and circulation, but also of it’s more utilitarian fire strategy. As so often the case,  this unintentional utilitarian detail, afterthought or interpretation provides an aspect of a building (the helix as a system of ordering) that is at least as interesting as the original and intentional design.

About half a roll. And then some.

Restaurant Sini offers “delicious water pipes in an oriental atmosphere”, and is also “gemütlich, comfortable, quiet, relaxing and fascinating”. Almost as long as this list of adjectives is their sensational strip of ’Stro™, which has to be the longest in the city. I defy anyone to install a lengthier piece in front of their restaurant without resorting to calling it ‘art’.

Interesting to note that Gemütlichkeit is fully compatible with an oriental atmosphere. But I expect oriental Gemütlichkeit has more to do with red cushions and a haze of grape flavoured tobacco smoke, and not some band of dirty fake grass.

You think twice when you dig a gem like this out of the archives. You think “maybe I should save this for later, save it for harder, less inspired times”. But then again, why not let it breath the sweet, sweet air of niche publishing right now …

So where are we? We’re westside, on Lietzenburger Straße. Postwar architectural vibes here. Which means big nooks with supporting columns, and really heavily engineered looking glazing Made in Germany. But it’s all a bit tatty and sad. The West isn’t what it used to be, back when there was an East.

With its vacant retail space beyond, our irregular pentagram of AstroTurf no longer serves to welcome the optimistic consumer. It is now a place of congregation for autumn leaves and canine excretions. But let us not disregard the extraordinary care which has, once again, been invested in the cropping. One notices the 45cm overhang reaching out beyond the building’s footprint, and sees how it matches up with the concrete plug surrounding the metal grate on the right. And one must consider too, that this overhang makes it possible to include the supporting column within the Turf’s territory. A close look at the base of the column reveals a rakish slit: the casual gesture of a mature artist.

The errant piece of AstroTurf featured in the preceeding article (AstroTurf Gemütlichkeit #004) has indeed, as we suggested, been deliberately placed above the manhole cover, but not for aesthetic reasons.

Staunching the stench [Photo: Janina Guthke/Tagesspiegel]

As the Tagesspiegel article explains, Berliners have been steadily curbing their water use for decades. Between 1991 and 2007, daily use dropped by 19%. The result is an underused canalisation system which is incapable of cleaning itself, and therefore stinks. The problem is particularly bad on Winterfeldplatz, where restaurant and bar owners have taken matters into their own hands.

Currently the Berlin Waterboard doesn’t have a solution at hand. It’s homepage, however, does feature a couple of practical water-saving tips.

This one’s all about Gemütlichkeit, which is German for ‘comfort’, but actually entales a whole lot more than just a state of momentary comfort you might experience in a comfortable chair, and is closer to a kind of holistic, unsurpassable form of comfort, which, when sought after in every waking moment with a sense of spiritual purpose, becomes an entire way of life.

A few idle observations to conclude:
– The astroturf has been augmented by a strip of red carpet
– The periphery of the astroturf has been marked with plants, which further underlines the extent of the restaurant’s territory, and also provides guests with a sense of shelter
– The square astroturf offcut in the foreground isn’t trying to escape, it is covering an unsightly manhole, which potential guests might find offputting

You want some more AstroTurf? Yeah, we thought so. So how about this grassy runway in front of the Orient-Lounge? There’s something about the precision with which this specimen has been fitted around the steps and bollard that says this piece of AstroTurf was installed with Big Love.

The propriertors might however like to take note of the disturbing invasion of real grass at the foot of the wonky bollard. Obviously this needs to be treated with some very harsh chemicals indeed if order is to be restored.

Two things might conceivably happen here: 1) you slide through the dirty, rain-sodden strip of AstroTurf and fracture your hip; or 2) you sit for so long waiting to be served that you contract dengue fever from a swarm of virulent mosquitos which consider the dirty, rain-sodden strip of AstroTurf to be their rightful home.

The first in a nauseatingly protracted series on the phenomena of AstroTurf carpeting on city streets. What is it about a strip of mildew-ridden faux-grass that makes us feel all cosy and rural? To what degree is the gastronomic experience enhanced by its presence under foot? Is there a correlation between zoning laws and carpet size?

SLAB will help to find some answers in the coming months. Keep it here.