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RUTH BUCHAT,IAN BURKHARD STRASSMAT'IN

BIROIT

KEMPKER
DANY

MARK t,01{ SCHt_E0Eil.

HAi{S.CHRISTIAI{
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left: The six illustrated sculptures, clockwise from the

ntttled (roots and affectton), 2OlO, MDF, stryrofoam, filler, acrylic Paint, 127.5 x 53 x 59'5 cm
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Ilntttled (ltfe Plan), 2OO7, stryrofoam, filler, acrylic Paint, L10 x 45 x 48 cm; Courtesy Galerie Skopia' Geneva
I,l ntttled (self-representation)

2OOG

stryrofoam, filler, acrylic Paint, 70 x 45 x 45 cm; Private collection

Llntitled (art collector's vebicle), 2009, Jesmonite cast, filler, acrylic Paint,

'

98 x 43,5 x 31.5 cm

Llntttled (C atro dust), 2O1O,

wood, Jesmonite, filler, acrylic Paint, 100 x 30 x 38 cm; Courtesy Galerie Skopia' Geneva
Untrtled (cool and easY),2009'

strpofoam, wood, filler, acrylic paint, 79.5 x 25 x 33 cm

Hinricb

Sachs, bom

in 1962 tn Osnabrilch,

conceptualizes, models, conducts, and wites' He tiyes in Basel, and since 2007, also in Stocbbolm'

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69

As a rule, once I left Hamburg behind me, it wasn,t long a car stopped. The drivers were friendly. Soon we were ring small talk. We talked about unemployment, the past, or weather, but nobody admitted being a new Nazi. On the oth_ ride of the former East German border, where Mecklenburg_ tlt Pomerania begins, I got into a Golf driven by a woman in mid-forties. It seemed we didn't have anything to say to each
!r as we drove betwe en d,azzlingfields of rapeseed, both of us t. A song on the radio was followed by the news. And prob_ because nothing really exciting was happening in the world, announcer presented some statistics: in Mecklenburg-West rnia, one out of three youths was susceptible to right_wing ist ideolog,z. The anchorman then read the weather r"po.t promised this summer's last rainless weekend.

In the summer of 2000, people in Germany were told daily, withr out even asking, about juvenile Nazis. It was said that the prrrt was back upon us and, in some places, springing up like mrrth. rooms, Out on the streets, my encounters with such Nazis wcre rare. Yet on the radio and TV, a rising awareness was being leashed against the brown growth. And the strangest characteri soon joined forces in this agitated movement. In late summer, when many had returned refreshed lirr6 their holidays, disapproval swelled to new heights on both sirlea of the divide. As soon as a microphone appeared, people tried in their indignation to outdo each other with their proposalt, especially enjoyed an appearance by the Chancellor, who Gerhardt Schr6der at the time. He said he would like to every radical right-wing youngster-be he thirteen, fourtectt, fifteen-by the neck and give him a good shake. Later, manv them would thank him for having put them back on the ri
path,

It was after hearing the numbers that the woman kept ing unnecessarily in my direction. I was just about to ask to please keep her eyes on the road when she beat me to it sly asking if I was one of "them.', My hand slid over my shaven head, which was probably why she was asking. only answer that came to my mind was that no, I,m too old hat. That didn't seem to satisfy her, and she kept peering at I tried again: No, the opposite is the case, A pronouncement geemed to soothe the look in her eyes somewhat. Then she telling me about the new Nazis and I thought: I,ve read
in the papers already. Her second-hand stories weren't us anlrvhere, but at least she had her eyes on the road l, Then she got to the real reason for her anxiety. She had a
He was fourteen. It was worrying, she said. Though in the he thought it worse if he didn,t graduate from high school if he got off track for a while with these new Nazis. After ry were just a fashion, while a diploma was the key to life. why she had gone ahead and promised him her car as a C if he passed his exams in five years. She had even already a sticker on the car for when this day arrived. That way hL be reminded everyday of his goal and her wish. Though

The fact that the Chancellor had entertained such lr made me want to take a look at the reality that had spa such fantasies. I decided to take a trip to MecklenburgPomerania, where the concentration of these new Nazis was posed to be particularly high. I set off the next day, hitching along secondary roads, as I believed that way I would be altle make contact with the locals more quickly.

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a few days ago she had dreamt that he would have to repeat it year of school. In her dream this had meant having to changc the sticker on her Golf-which she had cut out herself, as they weren't making them that far in advance yet-to read 2005. In village B., whose sign claimed it was a township, I got out of the woman's car and bought myself an ice cream. While I was licking away, a scrawny kid dashed past. His T:shirt reirrl "Odin not Jesus," My first Nazi. So they did exist. I asked the waitress at the ice cream parlor what yourrg people did around here and where their parties were. Since tlte
woman in the car had initially been suspicious of me, I fancied, I looked young enough to ask this directly. The waitrcsr didn't seem to mind and answered that tonight, nearby, there would be a Goa parby. That sounded interesting, that is, to tlte extent that I could imagine what it might mean, but my qucst had a different purpose. I tried again and asked ifthere were any other parties. She replied that yes, four towns away, there wut going to be another Goa. I asked her if Goas were the only par ties she was interested in. She said no, but they were all that wnr happening and, besides, they were nice, When I left, she said thnt
she would see me later,

been rolled up hours ago, Life outside of automobiles was to some youngsters hanging out at bus stops. They all

I got to know some more locals-a young fitness trairteq the village oddball, an animal psychologist-in the course of the afternoon. There didn't seem to be any farmers left, or mayhg they just didn't speak to strangers. I found out a number of thi but it didn't go much beyond the information I had already hcirr{ about the Goas. Soon I stopped inquiring about Nazis. N seemed to be interested in the topic. When the sun went down, I had the good fortune to jolg the young animal psychologist and drive around the area in Japanese compact, a Honda. Here, cruising around in your was a favorite pastime. Then it got really dark. Streetlamps rare, and you could count the number of houses with lights So most of the time, you could only see what was in the lights. And when I caught a glimpse of a sidewalk, it seemerl

about the Goa parties. They explained the way to the one driving companion. It consisted of a few names of villages a vague "and then turn right into the woods." Where and exactly which road into the woods was not clear to me, but after we passed the villages they had a thi*y-by-thirty-centimeter cardboard sign came into on which someone had sprayed a red arrow. In the direction an unremarkable, almost invisible road cut into the We turned right. It was a bumpy ride. Dense woods on sides. We kept on drMng, but couldn't see a thing. Maybe arrow had not marked what we had thought. In the bobbing dlights, all we could see was the continuation of the road and uniformity typical of this kind of German forest. Suddenly man was framed in the windshield. Hair hanging into his upper body lurching forward, rrarruD hands u4rrEurrS dangling 4urtuDL almost his knees, The guy seemed agitated and to have lost his grip . A moment later more of these figures came into sight. They all looked as if they lacked muscles. A strange totand stumbling that was at the same time familiar. Where I seen this before? In a clearing that now opened up in front we nearly drove into a throng of these people, all of whom to have lost hold of themselves. Now I knew where I had ,uch movements. They reminded me of those creatures in films, only the blood was missing and apparently the debite others. At best some were hovering in clumps, others just keeping to themselves. Between these shadows, which loosely held together by a brief sound loop, I recognized faces I had seen in the village that day. But they didn't me. The waitress from the ice cream parlor was lying on a Persian rug. Suddenly I saw the fitness trainer, who ly heading towards me with reasonably distinct moveHe threw me an inquisitive, euphoric look, and I felt comto respond that I wasn't sure if this was my idea of a good

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party. The trainer answered that there weren't good or bad ties, only good or bad drugs. And these were good. On ketamina you stumble about in the woods, but inwardly things are rcally mind-blowing. I didn't dare ask exactly what ketamine was, o! how they had all gotten hold of it at the same time, and what so mind-blowing about it. He then mumbled something near-death experiences. And I wasn't sure I wanted to know exact details? Hadn't the aim of my quest been something ent Iy different? But then maybe there weren't any Nazis here they only existed on television. And the East wasn't ri but on ketamine. I turned to the animal psychologist and as her to give me a ride out of the woods.

Hans-Chri,stian Dany, arttst and writer, born in 1966 in Hamburg, t latest publicatton is "Speed: A Society on Drugs." Cunently writing novel and living wtth bts son tn Hamburg.