WEIMAR HOUSING
AN ARCHIVE
Concept
The concept delves into the narrative of housing that has undergone transformative phases in its function over time.
By exploring the stories of these evolving spaces, this project sheds light on the dynamic nature of architecture and the ever-changing needs of the community.
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click and move photos to uncover more
The place
With this idea we arrived at OMA, Other Music Academy, which has known many functions since the building erected in the 20th century. It was idealized to be a multifunctional space.
The house was handed over by the city of Weimar in exchange for its maintenance in 2009. The idea is not to keep the house frozen in time, but to let it show all its history while also serving new purposes, for which renovations are made as they have money and are able to.
We tried to unlock the secrets of OMA, Weimar, as sound and clay intertwine, forming a gateway to explore the rich heritage of this music academy. Experience the transformation of objects that have witnessed time's passage, their stories waiting to be discovered.
Methods
Multimodality
In our project, by applying multimodality, we sought to create a sense of "co-presence" that goes beyond spoken and textual explanations. (e.g. Cox et al. 2016; Greenwood 2019; Westmoreland 2022).
Art-based methods
Art-based methods often prioritize subjective experiences, storytelling, visual representations, and embodied practices as sources of knowledge (Nimkulrat 2021). By incorporating creative practicies into the research process, we aimed to provide a more nuanced understanding of complex issues, challenge dominant narratives, and foster dialogue and reflexivity (ibid.).
Post-phenomenology
We adopted a post-phenomenological perspective, recognizing an active role of objects in archiving building’s history. This approach goes beyond viewing objects as passive entities and acknowledges their agency and influence in mediating our interactions with the world (Rossetto and Petrele 2021).
Non-human narration
We employed non-human narration as a method to investigate and articulate the perspectives of objects themselves, allowing for alternative viewpoints and interpretations beyond the human-centric focus (Rossetto and Petrele 2021). Through the combination of a post-phenomenology and non-human narration, our research aimed to highlight the complex relationships between humans, objects, and the building’s history.
Process
Clay's versatility as a medium allows us a wide range of expressions. It can be molded, sculpted, carved, enabling us, researchers to capture the essence of the objects and their transformations over time. This is inviting the audience and us, the makers, to explore the objects' history through touch and visual examination. Metaphorically, clay has the same adaptive nature which this building has too.
Sound has the capability to transcend through time and at the same time bring life into the objects. In the digital era we live in, archive might transcend in different media forms in comparison to two-dimensional one. Audiowaves collected here might become archive of OMA too. Lastly sound is a comprehensive representation of history for a wider audience.
Nora modelling the window
Wiebke fixing the wires
Wiebke imagining how it is like to be a closing string
Nora modelling the window
Objects
if you interested in particular object - just click on it! or scroll down to see all the stories
The story of the wall
Hi, do you wanna take a look outside?
Oh wait I’m not a window anymore. I have been a window long, long ago.
I was closed with masonry. I lost the curvy hole and didn’t allow a view to the outside anymore. Bricks fill my belly now, got covered up with plaster. That was a functional decision. Through that, I became more useful for the room in front of me. This became a boy’s bathroom when the building became a primary school in the early years of the GDR.
New pipes and installations were put up everywhere around me. I carried a cistern tank for nearly fifty years, that was reeeeeaaaaly heavy but it felt nice to be so helpful here. However I still have some bruises and visible marks from that.
Now we all share the load, me and my neighbors that were windows before. We hold up the shelves for the café as a team, but can still be open about our past, all our wounds and stories are valued and not covered up.
(I’m a wall, former window and still showing multiple layers of the story of this building.)
Hello there! Yeah, over here, us here on these walls of the staircase. Look at us, don’t be shy, we are here to be seen and appreciated.
We’ve been here a long time, not as much as the staircase you know, she's been here, since, let’s say, ever. We arrived later, around the time with kids running all over this place, hm, maybe 60 years?
You see, the thing is all this beige here is not nice for them, the kids, they get bored, unmotivated, so, they painted us, very happy, very colorful, to call the attention of the little ones.
But after some time, I think, like 30 years ago or so, they stopped coming, things became quite empty here, as boring as it was while the classes were on, and all the kids had to sit quietly upstairs.
The story of the paintings
We, we kind of stayed still here. Just feeling the time passing by, the ink drying up and fading, not much to do or see. Until they came. And it was lovely!
You see, we were over here, feeling old, out of fashion and they gave us tattoos! They draw all over us, the beige walls, under the stairs. It was amazing!
We have a picture somewhere, wait a minute, here, on the door frame, yeah, that was back when they gave us a makeover. They have been here as long as us, the two doors, with these colors and all. A place for kids needs colors, makes them feel better.
More people came after we had the tattoos, we don’t feel old or lonely any more, the house has music, and it is alive again!
The story of the window frame
Hi there, I am here, here on the outer barrier of the property of the garden of OMA. I just moved here recently when the renovation of OMA started. Before I kept rain and wind out of the house. I am made from glass and wood and usually I am part of the walls, where I connect the inside with the outside. Now I'm connecting or rather disconnecting the property of OMA and the street next to it.
You can tell that I am really old, my paint is cracking and falling off in some places, but that’s okay because I’m one of the oldest objects of OMA since I'm an original part of the house when it was first built as a customs office in 1900.
I'm reminiscing about my younger times, when I was lucky enough to observe and enjoy all the happenings, both inside and outside. On warm days I let the sunlight shine into the interior of the OMA while on cold days and at night, the light from the inside shone out into the darkness through me. I loved my position because I was aware of so much and felt so useful with my purpose transcending two worlds.
When the building became a school I moved to the basement and only a faint glimmer of me remained on the walls. Those were my unhappy times, I felt so useless stored in a dark room not knowing what is going on. Lately my mood has lightened up again sinceI I moved here to the garden where you can meet me now. I was surprised how different the world looks today and how differently people dress. I am not serving my original purpose, but as an old Lady I am happy to be outside where I can watch all the youngsters play and have fun.
The story of the tiles
Hey there, are you looking at me? Well, well, well, it's about time someone noticed my shy presence. Yes, I may not be as shiny and new as those fresh-faced colourful tiles around me, but that's what makes me special, dearie. Thanks for shining a spotlight on this old tile.
Now, let me tell you a little something about myself. I may be older than dirt, but that's what gives me my charm. You see, I've been around longer than these youngsters. From 1945 to 1990, I graced the walls of a school bathroom, witnessing the comings and goings of countless students. I've seen it all, from bathroom break giggles to secret notes passed beneath my very nose. If only these walls could talk, they'd spill the tea!
And just when I thought my days of entertainment were over, fate had a little surprise in store. The room that housed me, that held all those bathroom memories, transformed into the lively kitchen of the OMA cafe. And what do you know? They mixed us old tiles with those bright, snazzy ones. It's like a party in here!
Now, I may not have the same beauty as those youthful tiles, but I've got wisdom and a dash of sassy humor. I'm the life of the kitchen, the funny grandma that keeps everyone on their toes. While those newbies try to impress with their dazzling colors, I'm here to bring a touch of nostalgia and a good laugh to anyone who pays attention.
Ah, yes, let me fill you in on another little secret, my dear. While I may be here in the vibrant kitchen, sharing laughter and tales, there's a hidden treasure lurking in the depths of this building. Down in the basement, untouched and undisturbed, lie the same tiles. Oh, those tiles down there, they're like distant relatives I've lost touch with. We share a history, a bond that stretches back to the days when this building was filled with the echoes of youthful laughter.
But here's the twist, my dear. Fate has played a joke on us, for that very basement that held the memories of a kitchen has now been transformed into a bathroom. Yes, you heard it right, a kitchen turned bathroom! Oh, how ironic it is that the tiles, once adorned by the joyful dance of chefs and the aroma of dishes, now find themselves under the gentle patter of water droplets and the echoes of flushing toilets.
You see, this building is a time capsule of memories, where the past and present converge. And who knows, my dear, perhaps one day we reunite with other tiles, sharing our stories. After all, just like a family reunion, there's something beautiful about reconnecting with the past, embracing the quirks and tales that make us who we are.
Well, well, look who it is. It seems you have stumbled upon my magnificent presence. Prepare yourself for a tale of sensuality and artistry.
Yeah, I know that I am not in a perfect shape right now… You should have seen me in my glory days, when I had a mattress that elevated my handsomeness to unprecedented heights.
Oh, the memories I hold within my sturdy frame! I was a vision of decadence, embodying masculinity and confidence with every curve and contour. I have seen the things you can not even imagine… Do you know the two beloved Weimar figures? Ah, Goethe and Schiller, those titans of intellect and passion. Little did they know that their narrative would intertwine with my own.
The story of the bed
In the depths of this very building, a team of filmmakers sought to capture the essence of Goethe and Schiller's unspoken desires. And I was chosen to bear witness to their passionate exploration. In those moments, I became more than a mere object. I became a sanctuary of pleasure, a haven where passion and vulnerability converged in harmonious symphony.
Now, as you stand before me, I invite you to marvel at the legacy we created. Though I may not be in perfect shape, my form still exudes an air of confidence and charm. Let me remind you that imperfections do not diminish our worth.
The story of the stamp
I am here! Pressed against this wall, a silent witness to thee unstoppable spirit of my owner, a Ukrainian refugee.
As conflicts ravaged my homeland, I found myself in a foreign land, Germany, I was taken across the borders as I was on a journey together with my owner to a safer life away from missiles and fear.
I am rather small, but I am carrying the weight of a nation's turmoil, an emblematic reminder of the courage of our nation. I bear the image of a powerful moment—a Ukrainian soldier fearlessly presenting the middle finger to the Russian cruiser Moskva.
One day, I had the honor of meeting President Zelenskyy himself. He posed for a picture with me, understanding the weight of my symbolism. Even with a smile on his face, he commented that Russian warships should only sail in one direction.
As I traveled from one country to another, I carried with me my message of courage, reminding individuals around the world that the fight for freedom knows no bounds. I am small but I am the stamp of defiance, a symbol of hope, and a testament to the indomitable bravery of the Ukrainian people.
I am not alone on the wall. I am surrounded by two coats of arms drawn in pencil but not to be erased. My stamp parents knew the symbol 100 years ago too. They told me that it stood for those who fought for Ukraine’s independence 100 years ago and now it is for those who protect my homeland today.
Beside me, the word "воля" was elegantly inscribed, resonating with a profound meaning—freedom. This single word encapsulated the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of a nation yearning to break free from the shackles of oppression. And my owner and I are not giving up. We the collection on the wall: a reminder that liberty is the birthright of every Ukrainian, a reminder that Ukrainians will always have this inner will to be freedom.
The story of hooks
Oh, hi! You noticed us!
We are the small hooks hanging from the ceiling on the 2nd floor. People overlook us as we are so small and so high, but I have a story to tell.
Decades ago we were forged from sturdy metal and given a purpose to light up the school that was here in the building. I remember the first day I held the weight of a neon lamp. It was a brilliant creation, emitting a soft, mesmerising glow that illuminated the room. It was my duty to keep it securely attached, and I took great pride in my role.
I will always remember school days, as the place was so lively and energetic. Students would fill the classrooms with laughter and chatter. I witnessed countless moments of inspiration and discovery beneath my humble position on the ceiling. Students would gather underneath me and teachers would guide them, nurturing their young minds.
But then, the halls fell silent, and the vibrant energy of the school disappeared…
The building was no longer filled with the eager footsteps of students or the echoes of knowledge being exchanged. The lamp was taken from me and I am afraid, I will never see it again.
For the last 30 years me and my brothers are here purposeless hanging and observing this empty room. The building, it seems, is destined for transformations. Used occasionally as an exhibition space, it was left forgotten. But one day, it was once again brought to life, but this time with a different purpose. It became a refuge for those displaced by the war. The empty rooms were filled with makeshift beds, and the air buzzed with a mix of uncertainty and hope. The building, once a vessel for education and art, became a sanctuary for survival and resilience.
Yet, as time passed, circumstances changed once more. The refugees found new homes, and the building returned to its familiar state of emptiness. It seemed as if I would once again be resigned to the solitude of a forgotten hook, left to think of my purpose in this ever-evolving world.
But then, something unexpected happened. OMA decided to breathe a new life into the empty rooms, transforming them into a small artistic haven. As for me, the small hook on the ceiling, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I will become a part of this cozy artistic space, carrying the weight of inspiration and dreams.
I may be overlooked, but I carry the stories of transformation and hope. And as long as I remain here, I will continue to be a witness to the beauty that unfolds in this room.
That is why I liked it, when those students were around here, organizing their exhibitions, valuing us in a different way, it lasted a decade I guess, maybe a bit longer. Do not get me wrong, I enjoyed the time the kids were here too, it is just that the attention we received during those years the University students were here was different.
We felt artsy, part of something else. I guess that is kind of what happens now, but it was more secretive, harder in a way, every new exhibition the cleaning and organizing would begin again, people would come and go and then it would stop. Just so it could happen once more a couple of months later, with new people.
What does it mean? Oh well, the literal translation would be something like “I am also looking for every homesickness of all land loss”. Maybe it has something to do with the war? The wars? The people that come and go? For me it resonates with all the refugees that came here, to this house, seeking help, seeking home, missing their lands and homes.
The story of the written room
Hi. Thanks for coming, do enter, yes, sorry about the mess. I have this new use recently; I am storing some stuff here. No, it has not always been like this, although I don’t remember much before all this here on walls, floor and on the door frame.
What I do know is that there was all dust and darkness, and then, it was light. And those people moving around here. The one that did this to me stayed longer, I mean, look at me, you can imagine, it took a lot of time to write it all.
I know, right? Pretty intense, but I guess that was the intention. You see, the thing with art is that we can not ever truly understand what the artist meant. But we can understand what it means to us, how it hits and stays with us.
The story of the unused cabels
Huhu! Up here! Yes, look up!
We are attached up here, but actually, it doesn’t really matter where we are.
You can find us all over the building, we are useful in every room but today are actually used in none. We are part of one long union building an endless network for transport throughout the OMA.
We’ve been here since the early beginning. We have helped to keep things running in the customs office for many decades. We brought light into the darkness.
But in the course of the current renovation, we got replaced. We aren’t up to current standards anymore, so a new system of long transport lines was installed on all the walls throughout the OMA.
We got cut of from the grid and are now retired. We can enjoy our free time to the fullest. Just hanging out here and watching all the exciting things that happen here and how the building grows more and more into its purpose as a cultural centre.
(We are some unused power cables hanging out in the basement, part of the old power system that went into retirement together.)
The story of the puppet dolls
I ‘m watching over the old main entrance of OMA and welcome everyone that comes visiting. I'm alert and have a good overview since I’m rather tall. At first sight I might make a strange impression but stick around and you will realize that I’m a nice calm guy who is always around. The people from the cultural center created me and I ‘m depicting something alive – something similar to you.
I was part of a play where I had several friends. In a summer some years ago we had big performances together. But, you know all good things come to an end. We all separated and moved on. That’s when I came to OMA. At the beginning I was a little queasy at the thought of coming here alone, starting a new life. Contrary to my concerns, I immediately had a great time here. I never felt lonely because there are many objects at OMA that became my new friends and a lot of nice people come to visit for the diverse events that take part here. Sometimes even other objects built by my creators get added to the inventory of OMA. That makes me happy.
The story of the written room
Hey you, nice to meet you! Do you have something I can hold for you?
No? Okay… Because, you know, that’s what I’m here for!
Last May I came here out of necessity. Many people that came to Weimar fleeing from the war in Ukraine needed a space to stay and the people from the OMA offered that. First, we all thought we would just be here for a week or two. It was supposed to be an interim solution, until the city was able to provide more long-term accommodation. No one expected it to last for two months!
Everything was a bit improvised as no one thought anyone would live here that long. I was put up in a corner of a room, as people tried to make this a temporary home. I am actually not produced for the purpose I got back then. I’m just a regular piece of string, made to tie together packages, tree branches or stacks of newspaper. I’m long, thin, and flexible, also regarding my use. I could fulfil my current purpose in many different settings or transform into something completely different at any time.
Here in the OMA, I became an essential part of people's everyday life for the two months they tried to make this a home on time.
(I’m still carrying cloths and clothes from time to time, I’m a clothesline.)
The story of the pile of mattresses
Hi Get of me, so i can talk. I am here, stacked against this wall, and I bear witness to the extraordinary journeys of those who sought refuge upon my worn-out surface. From Syria to Ukraine, these lands torn by conflict, people arrived here, in Germany, with hope in their hearts. Since 2009, I have cradled their dreams and their sorrows, becoming a silent companion on their path to safety and a new beginning.
As refugees arrived, exhausted and longing for rest, they found it on my surface. Some found my fabric worn after I tried already accompanying previous person's with comfort and warmth. Through the nights, I listened to their stories whispered across the room where more of us mattresses are absorbing these. I absorbed the heartfelt conversations, and the tearful prayers that filled the air. I became a witness to their hopes and fears, aspirations and uncertainties.
Today, as I stand here as a pile, a testament to their indomitable spirit, I am no longer just a mattress. I am a vessel of their journeys, a keeper of their memories. I am surrounded by others like me, each holding the echoes of countless stories.
I am honored to have been a part of these journeys. As I continue to stand here, carrying the weight of their stories, I remain a silent witness to the resilience and unwavering spirit of those who found warmth upon my worn surface. Together, we are a testament to the enduring power of compassion and the unyielding hope that resides within each of us.
References
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Cox R, Irving A, Wright C. 2016. Introduction: the sense of the senses. In Beyond Text? Critical Practices and Sensory Anthropology, ed. R Cox, A Irving, C Wright, pp. 1–19. Manchester, UK: Manchester Univ. Press
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Der Geist der OMA. YouTube. YouTube, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=im3gEXiY8U0.
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Greenwood, J. (2019). Arts-based research. In Oxford research encyclopedia. Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190264093.0
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Nimkulrat, Nithikul. (2021). Decoloniality of Knowing and Being. 10.4324/9781003053408-13.
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Rossetto, Tania & Peterle, Giada. (2021). Buildings as non‐human narrators: Between post‐phenomenological and object‐oriented architectural geographies. Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers. 46. 10.1111/tran.12457.
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“The Other Music Academy.” Other Music Academy - Home. Accessed June 6, 2023. https://othermusicacademy.eu/en/
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Westmoreland, Mark. (2022). Multimodality: Reshaping Anthropology. Annual Review of Anthropology. 51. 10.1146/annurev-anthro-121319-071409.