Mnemonic by Anna Ferkingstad

“Such powers of suggestion do places possess. No wonder the scientific training of memory (mnemotechnics) is based upon locality.” Marcus Tulius Cicero, De Finibus 45 BC Mnemonic devices aid, or are designed to aid, memory.

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letter from the editors

Welcome How is memory constructed? From the term ‘mnemonic device,’ we can infer the importance of the senses. When objects or devices that have been experienced in a previous moment are experienced again, they help to trigger memories of the past. For us at Mnemonic, memory is not just present in our everyday lives–it is an active force that influences what we say and what we make. Intrigued by the experience of place, we believe that engaged activities (like eating or creative production) help to chart the geography of the places we inhabit or live. The origin of our food, and perhaps the place we consume it, for example, are intrinsically connected. Through the production of our magazine, we hope to create our own stage for conversation, inquiry, and experience. Each chapter of Mnemonic will present work inspired by, or in response to, various places. Our first chapter, however, is an ode to our namesake, ‘mnemonic devices.’ In Chapter 1: Forms, place is recalled through its materialization within objects. We picked two mediums symbolic to us–food and design–to ask how creation, and the products of creation, relate to memory construction. “Form” can be defined in two ways: the visible shape or

configuration that something takes or the way in which something exists. Thus, we consider the words “medium” and “form” to be nearly synonymous; a medium is a form but a form does not necessarily adhere to a medium. Painting, for example is both a medium and a form. Painting as a verb acknowledges the medium as a whole, but as a noun it denotes the specific form that exists. Both food and design are mediums built on the phenomena of experience. Does it taste good? Is it designed well? The act of cooking or designing requires an actor and results in an end product, or an object. In this issue we explore the ways in which specific foods and objects are connected to their place of origin. We open with a discussion of form through the lens of media theorist Walter Benjamin and end with a quote by sociologist Aleida Assmann. Through essays on the Bauhaus Archive and the semantics of eating at Markthalle Neun, we invite a conversation about how forms can construct our memories with regards to place. We invite you to our dinner tables and drawing boards, to explore the intricacies of our chosen forms.

“The manner in which human sense perception is organized, the medium in which it is accomplished, is determined not only by nature but by historical circumstances as well.” Walter Benjamin

The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, 1936

Food as Form

Design as Form by Jack Davidson

by Anna Ferkingstad

In this provocative statement, Walter Benjamin hints at the key relationship between the perceived and the significance behind what is perceived. The perceived can take the form of almost anything, and it is precisely its form that makes it perceivable. The significance behind this perceivable form, on the other hand, might not be accessed through the human senses, as Benjamin briefly mentions. Instead, it is the form that must allude to its own significance. Without it, there might not be any significance whatsoever. For the sake of the focus of the magazine, one of the two types of form discussed throughout is Bauhaus design. Though the style can materialize in various mediums, there are common forms that keep the style consistent. Furthermore, consistency in form maintains and secures the historical circumstances that Benjamin mentions. When forms are all perceivably similar, they will be inherently connected. For Bauhaus designs, similarities will fill the historical gap between contemporary and past forms. Thus, Bauhaus design is constantly connected to its history; history of location, history of protagonists, and its history of forms. This magazine acknowledges Bauhaus design and its peculiarities and makes use of forms used within the style. The whole issue takes stylistic inspiration from Bauhaus in an attempt to communicate the style’s greater significance. Non-right angles and geometric shapes, geometric san-serif typefaces such as Helvetica, Avenir, and Universal, designed by Bauhaus master Herbert Bayer, and primary colors were chosen in particular. Through the use of Bauhaus forms, the magazine makes a connection between itself and the local and historical significance of Bauhaus.

In the essay from which this quote is pulled, the Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, Walter Benjamin loves this idea of authenticity or aura. What is authentic? What is original? In the context of food, this is a particularly poignant and sensitive discussion. The cool big thing in cooking today is “fusion”- the creation of new food types by blending together pre-existing food types or traditions. Many argue, however, that this is inauthentic. Can this new type of food not be a new original? Who has the authority to say what types of food ‘authentically’ represents the elusive ‘original’? Food is a medium of expression, just maybe not in the conventional way we are used to talking about art and production. Food, like paintings or photographs, differs in meaning when presented “caption-less” or out of context. Food is a biological need but it’s also a ritual that holds significance. It is deeply connected to place, both in a cultural and a natural sense. Ingredients and cooking traditions are used, built and shaped by available resources. The food you eat and make is placecontingent. A meal’s meaning, or essence, is about the present moment as much as it’s about the past. Food does not just appear on one’s table, it must first be grown and processed. And it just doesn’t just end there- the meal must also be prepared by someone or something using methods and tools that have been shaped and perfected through history. The biological need to eat everyday, let alone several times a day, has reduced food to its sensual qualities. The authentic meal, perhaps, is less about what it is presenting and instead how things are being presented. Food is a form or a medium of expression because it not only exists as an entity of culture both physically and symbolically.

a r c h i v e

Curation, Education, and the Gesamtkunstwerk by Jack Davidson

Nestled amongst Victorian, Colonial, and Craftsman homes in my hometown of Seattle sits a cuboid house that looks very out of place. Contrasting from the other homes, the modern home, as most would call it, looks alien; it simply does not fit in there. However, as I explore Berlin and other cities throughout Germany, I see these “modern” homes in abundance. They do not look out of place and, in most cases, they seem to compliment the surrounding buildings. Thus, for me, these modern homes created from a mix of geometric shapes, seem to be of Germany. To compare, the majority of homes in Seattle are very much of the United States. Architecture, it seems, holds strong connections with the place it is materialized within. Aleida Assmann, in her essay about places and place memory, describes two types of place memory: genetivus objectivus, that we remember places and genetivus subjectivus, that places retain memories on their own accord.1 For me, viewing more classical style homes and associating them with my home is a combination of the two ideas. I remember the place based on architectural forms and the place retains a memory of itself by contrasting classical homes with modern homes. That modern home, though, has place memory of its own, too. This modern German style stems from one of Germany’s most significant artistic movements: Bauhaus. The Bauhaus movement encompassed far more than just architecture, though; graphic design, industrial design, painting, sculpture, and photography were all practiced with the style in mind. Although medium may vary, all Bauhaus design follows rules that create a consistent style. The importance of form and function, emphasis on geometry, and a clear break from traditional artistic styles are grounding principles in Bauhaus. Although the movement began with an art school in Dessau, Germany, the style has since been instilled as an important artistic product of Germany. The original Bauhaus school building in Dessau is now full of offices with just a couple exhibits but the majority of important Bauhaus documents, photographs, and other artifacts are stored at the Bauhaus Archive in Berlin. The building, serving as a museum, archive, and education center, has created its own way of shifting perceptions of the Bauhaus movement. It preserves Bauhaus creations, displays them for the public, and

also offers educational opportunities. The resulting effect for a visitor is an experience from all angles; one walks away with a clear understanding of the style and its relation to Germany. Such a holistic perspective certainly will instill place memory of the Bauhaus and its significance with the country of its origin; both genetivus objectivus and genetivus subjectivus. However, the Bauhaus Archive does not only instill place memory for the specific artifacts under its roof. On display are chairs, tables, lamps, cocks, coffee pots, and even chop sticks designed in the Bauhaus style. From this carefully curated set of everyday items one can understand that the style

“The building, serving as a museum, archive, and education center, has created its own way of shifting perceptions of the Bauhaus movement.” extends far beyond archived artifacts in a museum setting. A visitor can then spot the style in the real world, not just at the Archive. Identifying a Bauhaus item, and knowing its intrinsic connection to the Archive and Germany, one will be instantly reminded of the two places. The Bauhaus Archive thus, through curation of a variety of everyday objects, makes sure that the Bauhaus style is identifiable. In this way, the memory of the Bauhaus Archive is instilled in the various forms that the style materializes in outside of the Archive as well. The Bauhaus Archive enforces place memory yet again through a fundamental concept of Bauhaus: the gesamtkunstwerk. The idea was made popular by German composer Richard Wagner in his various theoretical writings.2 A gesamtkunstwerk is an art piece that creates a multifaceted experience for the viewer.

Various mediums and means of access are employed with a gesamtkunstwerk. In Bauhaus, the idea responds to the ways in which design forms a holistic experience for the viewer. The gesamtkunstwerk is the method through which the Bauhaus Archive makes an impact. Packaged within the building, which is an example of Bauhaus architecture, examples of Bauhaus graphic design, furniture, literature, video, and industrial design ensure that the visiting experience is immersive and impactful. The Bauhaus Archive as a gesamtkunstwerk is yet another factor that ensures place memory. Although the Archive as a gesamtkunstwerk does make an impact on how the place is remembered, the building alone also contributes to this effect. For someone who does not enter the Bauhaus Archive, it is still possible to understand place memory of Germany and its relation to Bauhaus. In his essay Architecture of the Times, Ludwig Mies Van Der Rohe, the director of architecture at the original Bauhaus school, explains how architecture is a communicative medium that informs of both place and time. “Architecture is the

will of the epoch translated into space […] Greek temples, Roman basilicas and medieval cathedrals are significant to us as creations of a whole epoch rather than as works of individual architects.”3 It is true, Roman temples are both of the time of the Romans and of the place of the Roman Empire. In this very same way, Bauhaus buildings are of the early 20th century and of Germany. Simply viewing the archive is enough to force recollection of place. Although the Bauhaus Archive was, in part, designed by Walter Gropius, the founder of the original Bauhaus, that piece of knowledge is not necessary in creating place memory for the Archive. The building is striking enough on its own to be remembered. Through its various features on instilling place memory, in the forms of genetivus objectivus and genetivus subjectivus, the Bauhaus Archive has become a physical propagator of the Bauhaus movement. Despite the school closing in 1933, the style has been more than preserved.

1 Assmann, Aleida. Cultural Memory and Western Civilization: Functions, Media, Archives. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2011. Print.: p. 11 2 Wolfman, Ursula. “Richard Wagner’s Concept of the ‘Gesamtkunstwerk’.” Interlude.hk. Interlude, 12 Mar. 2013. Web. 07 Dec. 2016. 3 Mies Van Der Rohe, Ludwig. “Architecture of the Times.” Mies van der Rohe. Museum of Modern Art, 1947. Web. 01 Dec. 2016.

FOOD 12

Food as Language, Language as Food by Anna Ferkingstad

I had a great deal of freedom as a child but there was one rule I could never break–be home by dinner. For a large and busy family, our dinner table was the center around which we all orbited. Quick breakfasts before school each morning, long lunches on the weekends and the weekday dinner that we, as young kids, were programmed not to miss. My mother and father would alternate cooking. She preferred the classics and was rather good at them–homemade lasagna, banana bread or beef stew. My dad, on the other hand, liked to experiment. Weird leafy salad greens from the garden that would make your tongue tingle; new brightly-colored fungi from the farmers market; and soups that would take him days, sometimes even weeks, to prepare. It was a harmonious balance, my mother provided stability in our overwhelming and loud family while my dad quickly shunned us out of any picky-eating habits. When I recall my childhood home now, I think of these evenings spent gathered around the table. Cooking–a value and a passion shared by both my parents–brought me, my sister and all of our extended relatives together in what was otherwise a fairly raucous and chaotic family setting. The rough texture of our long well-used wooden dining room table; the smell of smoked salmon sticking to my clothing during summer months; and the loud popping noise of hot oil in the wok. My nostalgia for the first place I called “home” and the people who inhabited it, is built on these sights, smells, touches, sounds and tastes. My senses and individual experiences help to build my memory, they have become signifiers for significant moments or feelings. Nostalgia, after all, means remembrance. It is a sentimental longing for something that has past. But how can we bring such longing, such significance, out of the past and into the future? My family, for better or for worse, has developed their own method. Instead of talking–we cook and we eat. Food and Language: An Unlikely Connection Both food and language are used to maintain and create human relationships. The dinner table, a significant object in

my own personal narrative, is a rich site for socialization and language acquisition.1 As a young child, I didn’t think about what I was eating or why I was eating it. Now, older and moving from between cities and countries, I carry and construct a sense of home with me to every new place I go. I recognize that the way my family ate and spoke as I was growing up wasn’t a personal choice of my parents or relatives but instead, a reality contingent on context. What my family ate and how we ate it was influenced by our occupancy of a medium-sized American home. Our rituals and activities were influenced by our place both physically and within society.1 In his book Everyone Eats, author E.N. Anderson outlines this reality.1 The way we eat and talk, he argues, constructs social hierarchies. Both language and food are culturally dependent and vary according to factors such as class, ethnicity, gender, age and lifestyle. Food and language are intrinsically connected to power, and thus can only be fully grasped when placed in context.1 Food is not only a biological need, as language is not only a tool for transmission. There is nothing more inevitable, Anderson writes, than our food preferences or syntactic structures.1 Culinary nostalgia, although it may vary in strength, plays a role in every personal narrative. For me, the act of biting into a warm slice of freshly-baked banana bread evokes vivid childhood memories of my mother. The pungent salty smell of a fresh piece of fish, on the other hand, conjures up strong associations with my family’s elaborate Scandinavian holiday gatherings. Words, can have the same magic. In The Culinary Triangle, linguist Claude Levi-Strauss connects the scientific and historical studies of food with the study of language.2 “In a particular society,” he writes, “cooking is a language through which society unconsciously reveals its structure.”2 Food, according to Levi-Strauss, is it’s own medium of expression because it is both reflective of culture and reflective of the structure of language.2 Like language, food is built on ordered patterns–small parts that form to make a greater whole. Meals are sequenced throughout the year, the week and the day like letters and sounds are ordered to create words

and sentences. Food and language bridge nature with culture because they are both necessary and unnecessary in their uses. If Levi-Strauss offers the semiotic perspective on food, than sociologist Roland Barthes offer the philosopher’s. Food to Barthes, is communicative in that it is a performance of self.3 The preparation and consumption of food, he iterates, is tied to capital and social status.3 However, Barthes fails to recognize that these socio-factors also ring true for language. For decades, academics have studies how identity is constructed through language. But why does no one seem to care about food? If there is one this as deeply personal for me as the language I speak, it is the food I eat. As Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, one of the first food writers, eloquently said: “Tell me what you eat, I will tell you what you are.” We Are What We Eat: A Berlin Case Study I cannot eat the traditions of my Scandinavian family, but I can eat food. My ability to understand my grandparent’s immigration narrative has been constructed through the culinary traditions they brought with them to the United States from their country of origin. Today, as technology increases the homogenization of national and regional difference, the conversation of food holds particular weight. In a political era characterized by resurging nationalism and Neoliberal ideals food practices offer a necessary laboratory for social relations. Food locates us geographically but it also locates us culturally. Writer Enoch Padolsky offers one example of the power of food as narrative in his discussion of stories of displacement. Familiar foods, he argues, console and comfort people who have been forced to flee their homelands.1 Understanding food not only as a process but as a tool offers a new reflection on Brillat-Savarin’s famous quote, “Tell me what you eat, I will tell you what you are.” In a contemporary society food is not only a nostalgic symbol of culture but it is a medium of communication. In my family, food was an equalizer. The act of cooking and then eating together along our long wooden dining room table encouraged interaction and discussion. What would happen if this idea of ‘food as a tool’ was applied in larger and more significant areas of tension? The city of Berlin, Germany provides a case study for why we should care about how we eat. At the end of the day, food is not an individual but a collective biological need. The Berlinbased entrepreneurial project of Markthalle Neun is garnering national attention because of it’s reflection on food.4 Featured in publications, books and several academic texts, the food-hall, market and event space is both an enjoyable tourist attraction and a significant neighborhood actor. The copper beams and minimal but bold sign that frame the entrance of Markthalle,

DISTRIBUTION OF FOOD CULTURES AT STREET FOOD THURSDAY

I will tell you what you are.”

“Tell me what you eat, Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin Physiology of Taste, 1826

call to visitors from Eisenbahnstraße in the neighborhood of East Kreuzberg. The founders of Markthalle opened the space in 2011 on the foundation of one goal–to bring people of different backgrounds and narratives together through the activity of eating. 4 Now, there most popular event, Street Food Thursday attracts both a diversity of food producers and a diversity of food consumers. At the height of dinner, the hall will overflow with both local Berliners and visitors to the city who have come together to taste and try the foods of various backgrounds and places. For Berlin, the country of Germany and the fate of the European Union, this is significant. The battle for place identity demonstrated the current political climate, such as the Brexit vote in the United Kingdom or the increasing popularity of the far-right Front National party in France, demonstrates a growing need in the European Union for tools of communication. Moan, groan or even laugh about your family’s food habits but one thing rings true–these habits are unique to you and your family. Here’s an interesting thought to take with you next time you gather around a dinner table: why are people there? Why are you there? Would everyone have come together around that table if there wasn’t food or drinks to be shared?

FOOD

1 Anderson, E. N. Everyone Eats: Understanding Food and Culture. New York: New York UP, 2005. Print. 2 Levi-Strauss, Claude. “The Culinary Triangle.” Food and Culture: A Reader. Comp. Carole Counihan and Penny Van Esterik. New York: Routledge, 2013. 36-41. Print. 3 Barthes, Roland. “Towards a Psychosociology of Contemporary Food Consumption.” Food and Culture: A Reader. 3rd ed. N.p.: Routledge, n.d. N. pag. Scholar Blogs. Emory University. Web. 4 Meurling, Per. “Ich Bin Ein Berliner.” Fool Magazine [Malmo, Sweden] June 2016, 6th ed.: 20+. Print.

SOCIAL RELATIONSHIPS MEMORY

PREPARATION

EXPERIENCE

PRODUCTION SENSORIAL ENGAGEMENT

CONSUMPTION

PLACE 17

IDENTITY

Lรกszlรณ Moholy Nagy 18

Foto Qualität: A Close Reading by Jack Davidson

Why is the combination of text and photo so striking? Each mediums don’t have an intrinsic relationship, yet when paired they can create images with very impressive messages. Words, using graphic typography, can begin to spell out a message, but they only begin the message that the image communicates. Images introduce a completely different element. They offer a message for viewing, rather than explicitly state it. László Moholy Nagy, professor of the foundations at the original Bauhaus school, combined typography and photography in his graphic design with masterful technique. He named the practice typophoto.

use of color, medium, and graphic composition. The most striking detail of the cover, the use of color, begins the display of enthusiasm and excitement for design. Sitting vividly on top of the black and white image, the covers text explodes from the page. True red and blue, two colors commonly

“Typophoto is the visually most exact rendering of communication.” Typofotos are unique in their ability to communicate because of the two mediums they employ. Krisztina Passuth, in her essay Debut of László Moholy Nagy, explains why typophotos can have such a communicative quality: “Typography is communication composed in type. Photography is the visual presentation of what can be optically apprehended. Typophoto is the visually most exact rendering of communication.”1 Combining both mediums is a clear way to deliver a message, and the application of typo-photo’s should therefore be reserved for informative settings. In 1926 Nagy created a typo-photo for a magazine cover for the publication Foto Qualität. Though the cover is not an actual poster, it seems much more like one than a magazine cover. Through Nagy’s manipulation, the cover is immediately made into something more monumental than a magazine cover. It seems larger and more significant. But what about the cover achieves this effect? And what other effects does it achieve? As a whole piece, the cover illustrates an enthusiasm for photography that is matched by enthusiasm for exciting design. Nagy achieves this by

used with Bauhaus design, harmonize with similar color values and equal use across the page. Red, a color typically associated with power and audacity, strikes first. Qualität and issue’s edition number are highlighted in red, signifying their importance, and by using red for qualität, Nagy signifies that the magazine’s quality is paramount. Blue balances the use of red, and ensures that all attention is not lost to it. Foto, the magazine’s subtitle, and a few important details about the edition establish the upper portion of the composition. In tandem with the red, the blue indicates the importance of the words that it covers. Just as much as the two colors are used with reason, so is the colorless background image. A featureless black hand, a series of bars, and a camera in the middle of the hand use visual information to create meaning for the cover. After reading the title of the magazine and a few words that explain what it is about, the image situates the viewer with how the topics will be represented. The magazine is not just about photography, but also experimental and symbolic photography. The image employs a few different approaches photography, indicating the versatility and limitless quality of the medium. First, the hand is made by creating a photogram. The hand was placed between a photosensitive piece of paper and a light source, outlining the shape of the hand perfectly. The hand is heavy and without detail, like an authoritative figure. Then, multiple exposures burn bars and grates into the surrounding area.

1 Passuth, Krisztina. “Debut of László Moholy-Nagy.” László Moholy-Nagy. Iconofgraphics, n.d. Web. 07 Dec. 2016.

Although bars would typically symbolize restraint and control, here they are depicted to be exploding away from the hand. The hand as broken the confining limits of the bars. In the center of the hand is a standard image of a camera. With these three elements, Nagy makes a very telling message: photography has the ability to break down visual barriers. Not only is the message of the image apparent, the image is an example of what the message states. Three different techniques, which are endemic to photography, create an image than no other medium could replicate. As two equally important factors–use of color and image manipulation–balance each other, Nagy successfully packs a much more poignant message into the image. Color draws the eye’s attention first, but after examining written word, the viewer is allowed a moment to read the image. The striking break from traditional photography and typography make the cover captivating and important. In this way, it truly does seem more like a poster than just a magazine cover. Regardless, the effective communication that Nagy employs through the use of a typophoto is compelling. Words alone, or just a photo, could not have achieved such a feat in such an eye catching manner. It is important to note, however, that the mere combination of photography an typography would not necessarily be as poignant as Nagy’s cover. It was his use of color, composition, and unconventional photography practices that made the cover of Foto Qualität so extraordinary.

READING A DISH Potatoes

If food is considered language, what does a meal communicate? A dissection of the flavors and ingredients of the iconic meat plate from Big Step Barbecue at Markthalle Neun.

Meat

Pork and beef are the most popular varieties of meat consumed in Germany but here they have been prepared through braising methods emblematic of the American south.

Greens

Sauces

Soft, oily and smelling of rosemary. The strong presence of hearty and heavy potatoes almost makes one forget the dish comes without bread.

A mixed salad with a light but tangy dressing. The bitter arugula a contrasted the saltier and deeper flavors of the meat, potatoes and sauces. Arugula is not native to Germany but was instead introduced by migrant populations.

Influenced by both American and Asian flavorsâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;a spicy barbecue option as well as a KoreanInfluenced Ssam sauce. Strong, bold but not as heavy as more traditional German flavors. The Act of Eating Mess and social. Forks provided but easiest and funnest to eat with your hands. Too large to be eaten alone.

Decoding a Meal at Markthalle Neun by Anna Ferkingstad

When food is treated as a language, the messages it encodes or reveals will be found in the social relations being expressed. It offers a story of hierarchy, inclusion and exclusion, boundaries and transactions across those boundaries. The act of eating has a social component, as well as a biological one.1 In both this essay and the diagram on the left, I attempt to ‘decode’ a dish served at the Big Stuff Smoked BBQ at Markthalle Neun in Berlin. I combine the themes of this issue with the methods outlined by Mary Oliver in Deciphering a Meal 1, to think about how food can be a tool of conceptualization. Why this dish? Why from Markthalle? Issue One of Mnemonic embodies and discusses the city of Berlin, so it felt necessary to pick something reflective of both the city and my place within it. Big Stuff Smoked BBQ serves what I have nicknamed ‘American food through a German lens.’ Thus, offering a meaningful site for me to put my experiences as an American in conversation with my current location in the country of Germany. Germany has a complex food history. Poor agricultural conditions in the region combined with German consumer sensitivity to price to create a tradition of food that emphasized the simple and the functional. For centuries, the Berlin and Brandenburg region lacked access to quality and diverse produce, meat and seafood. Then through the 1800 and 1900s, Prussian rule, the First World War, roaring 20s, Third Reich and Cold War allowed German gastronomy to shrink away from public concern.2 Coincidentally, German food historian and author Ursula Heinzelmann argues in her book Beyond Bratwurst, that the gastronomical history of Germany both begins and ends at the site of Markthalle Neun.2 Germany, she notes, as a complex relationship with the concept of national identity. During the economic growth of the post-war period, people could travel often bringing new and cool foods back with them. Growing up in the 60s and 70s, it was more socially symbolic to eat Italian or French food than it was to eat German. Add in the culinary traditions of the migrant populations that came to Germany through the Gastarbeiter program or because of other conflicts in Europe, and Germany’s own culinary traditions took the backseat.2 How does the dish I ordered from Big Stuff Smoked BBQ offer a conversation between the present moment and the past of both Markthalle and Germany? One things very symbolic of the traditional German meal, potatoes, can help us answer this question. King Frederik II (or King Frederick the Great) was the

first to introduce the potato into the German diet. The wars, economic struggles and food shortages of the 19th and 20th century branded the German potato not as a creative ingredient but instead as a cost-efficient option. In older German recipes, potatoes were often prepared using methods that required longer applications of heat. For example, their use in a stew or the baking of them to create mashed potatoes.2 In this dish from Big Stuff Smoked BBQ, however, the potatoes have been roasted. A briefer, hotter application of heat that allows the prevents the fingerlings from drying out. The first sense triggered by these potatoes is sight. They are small, but they do not look boring. They are not stewed and they are not mashed. On top, sits tiny flakes of sea salt and sprigs of rosemary. As you pull a slice of the fingerling potatoes towards your mouth, you are hit with an aroma of herbs. Rosemary, for sure and maybe some thyme? My compatriots, they commented on the texture. Crispy on the outside but there is still that familiar softness on the inside that mimics the preparation styles of mashed potatoes. Void of context, these really just are potatoes. They look like potatoes, they taste like potatoes. But when a step is taken back, and the history of the ingredient itself is considered, the use of the potato by Big Stuff Smoked BBQ can be seen as a small symbol of the larger purpose of Markthalle Neun. For Heinzelmann, Markthalle offers a lens into German culinary history because it’s the intersection of old and new.2 New discourses in food, such as fusion, are experimented with under the Markthalle mission of “locality” and “authenticity.” At Big Stuff Smoked BBQ American preparation traditions, such as barbecue, are presented to Berliners through locally sourced meats and produce. Similar to how media theorists like Walter Benjamin argue that one should not passively consume paintings or photography 3, I believe that one should not passively consume food. Food, when viewed as a language, communicates meaning and culture. By not just enjoying the flavor of Big Stuff Smoked BBQ’s potatoes, but bringing the present-moment into the conversation with the history of the potato in German culture–I recognize a bigger question in food consumption. 1 Douglas, Mary. “Deciphering a Meal.” Daedalus, vol. 101, no. 1, 1972, pp. 61–81. www.jstor.org/stable/20024058 2 Heinzelmann, Ursula. Beyond Bratwurst: A History of Food in Germany. London: Reaktion, 2014. Print.

“[The phrase ‘memory of place’] suggests the possibility that places themselves may become the agents and bearers of memory, endowed with mnemonic power that far exceeds that of humans.” Aleida Assman, Cultural Memory and Western Civilization 2011

Produced by Jack Davidson and Anna Ferkingstad for the Experiential Learning Course in the Global Liberal Studies Program at New York Universityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Berlin campus. 2016