Radiant times
Decorations, illuminated or not, caution the visitor that the person behind that beautified door has had enough for this year: stressed out enough; suffered, realized, and endured enough. Elk antlers, covered with artificial snow are the pre-Christmassy version of those door signs used in hotels all through the year: Please do not disturb.
The first decorated door was the door to room N° 6 on the first floor. One morning a silver square was adhered on beige colored background; no frills, no tinsel and impeccably puristic. Placement and material testified to extravagance. That 31x31cm square of tin foil, carelessly adhered with clear tape and a tendency towards the upper right corner.
Something that may be worth thinking about: Is there a message to that square of tin foil? The resident of room N° 6 is a tall lady with pale complexion. After only two brief encounters in the hallway I remember her - wearing a headscarf and a long coat - as Muslim. Hence, the tin foil was no Christmas decoration. Did her children dare to add such an aesthetic touch to their door? Tin foil, normally used to wrap cold meat and cheese, but now presenting itself as a mysterious silver sign - what was its purpose?
I had not yet answered the question when a second silver scrap showed up. This one was more of a rectangle, attached to door N° 7, centered and flush with the bottom line. Mohammed Beton and his family live in room N°7. Mohammed Beton is no mystic. You can tell from his name ("Beton" is German for "concrete"). He is a tough man. He carried both of his children on his shoulders all along the so-called Balkan route to Germany. It is rather unlikely that he is into banishing evil spirits with the help of tin foil to protect his home.
A few days later, there was another sign attached to the column next to the fire extinguisher. So maybe that whole thing had to do with the four elements after all?
Meanwhile, a long silver lining covered the lower third of a windowpane and another square neatly decorated the tiles in the entrance area.
What was going on? Maybe soon, residents would start wearing tin foil hats - the way people did in a 1927 science fiction movie - to block telepathic perceptions.
Last Saturday, KUNSTASYL and the Museum Europäischer Kulturen had invited people to take part in pillow talks as part of the exhibition "daHEIM: glances into fugitive lives." Atef, Diwali, Said, Ezaldin and Mohammed Beton shared the edge of their beds with visitors to the museum and talked to them. "Gordon," Atef addressed daHEIM's warden who was also present, "there is a soccer game tonight." What did Atef want? Was he up to inviting Gordon to watch the game together? Very unlikely for a Saturday. No. Atef's remark was aiming at the fact that WIFI at daHEIM was shut down at 10 pm every night. To make things worse, wireless in the building was not strong enough for rooms all the way down the hallway to get connected.
To make sure that no soccer fan or any other person surfing the net in the hallway's WIFI zone would disturb the residents' sleep, WIFI was cut off from 10 pm to the next morning. That is to say: no soccer game and no calling home either.
Atef talked with the help of a translator. Upon listening, Hamza - probably a fan of Real Madrid or Juventus Turin himself - was devastated. He would then thrust two-thirds of his pillow talks earnings into Gordon's hand, urging him to get a WIFI repeater.
Today, two of those technical devices were installed.
There are no more tin foil door decoration scraps to intensify signals.
Too bad.
square of tin foil at door no 6
silver rectangle at door no 7
square of tin foil next to the fire extinguisher
square of tin foil in the entrance hall
alufoil covering 30% of a window
"Pillow talks" : Said photographs Atef
Back view: Heim-manager Gordon Grunwald, Atef Shuaib and - with hat -his translator Hamza