Wish Magazine supplement, December 2012, Boros Bunker

Into the bunker

No one knew what to do with the vast concrete bomb shelter in Mitte. Then along came Christian Boros, a man whose passion for collecting contemporary art borders on addiction

Story Carli Philips

F

or 26 years Christian Boros had one wish: to live alongside his personal art collection. But for a man with a 500-piece plus portfolio spanning works on paper, multimedia, sculpture, installation and video art, ranging in size from one millimetre to 8m, this was no easy feat. So for nearly three decades, it remained merely a dream for the hugely successful 48-year-old Polish-born advertising agency owner and his wife, art historian Karen Lohmann. The couple had no choice but to put most of their pieces, some of which they had only seen once, in storage. Many they imagined were never to be seen again.

All that changed in 2003 when Boros purchased a disused and decrepit, above-ground historical bunker in the heart of Berlin’s fashionable Mitte district. The intention? To provide a permanent home for his artworks and a place for the public to access his fascinating private collection of contemporary art. Situated on an inner-city corner block, the hulking grey structure presents as four identical facades of impregnable raw concrete. But belying its strict symmetry and austere facade, the vault houses some of the most wildly creative and significant postmodern art of the past century. A seemingly incongruous pairing, but then again Boros is no ordinary guy.

In guided tours (the only permissible way to visit), gallery docents reveal the bunker’s surprisingly chequered history. Constructed in 1942 by the Reichsbahn (German National Railway), under the direction of Hitler’s chief architect Albert Speer, the impenetrable bunker served as 42 wish September 2012

an air-raid shelter intended to house up to 2000 civilians.

More than double that number were regularly crammed in. When the war ended, it was used by the Red Army as a POW camp; then as a warehouse for tropical fruits.

After German reunification in the 1990s, the bunker was briefly used as a theatre, before housing illegal S&M, fetish and techno parties and gaining a reputation as “the hardest club on earth”. Eventually raided by authorities, it was forced to close, opening intermittently over the years to showcase temporary art exhibitions. By the time Boros and Lohmann discovered it, the bunker had fallen into a state of utter disrepair. Enlisting German architect Jens Casper and the firm Realarchitektur, Boros dedicated five years to the award-winning conversion.

Before renovations began, the fortified edifice comprised 120 pitch-black rigid rooms over five floors. In some areas, there was a clear height of approximately 2m, so the trio spent the initial months crawling through the oppressive chambers guided only by a torch. As a project of this scale had never been attempted and there was no precedent, clients and architect spent many wine-fuelled evenings trying to tackle the overwhelming task.

“The idea was to show artworks and artists of our collection, which are very much part of our time and part of the city of Berlin,” says Boros. “Because our art is already contemporary … we didn’t want to build a new house to show our collection. We wanted a contrast. And in the end the bunker found us, we weren’t looking for a bunker. I wanted to take the challenge; it was hurtful and risky but it was the only thing I could do.”

Casper likens the experience to “digging within a cave” but by subtracting 750 cubic metres of concrete

the uniform cells were eventually whittled down to 80 interconnecting sub-spaces and antechambers of complex perspectives and heights, facilitating various viewing angles. However, due to the existing 2m-thick concrete slab walls, light remained suppressed.

A decision was made to preserve the bunker’s storied past so bullet holes, ventilation shafts, peeling walls and graffiti were left intact. Inside, a disorienting labyrinth of corridors, staircases and, at times, claustrophobically low ceilings, challenge perceptions and notions of temporality. The unpredictable spatial arrangement was explored in the bunker’s inaugural exhibit, which focused on works of intense light and space, sound and colour. This method of display is as contentious as the art itself (Anselm Reyle is just one of the artists whose found objects are presented like masterpieces) and by its very nature subverts traditional expectations of the gallery or museum as blank canvases in which works should be sequentially displayed.

While Casper acknowledges the bunker’s controversial aestheticism, he defends the interior space, drawing on Brian O’Doherty’s seminal 1970s The White Cube essays, which state that although neutral spaces have become commonplace for the presentation of contemporary artworks, the “white cube” is but one model for the presentation of artworks. Unrehabilitated spaces like the bunker, he argues, are just as valid.

Before opening in 2008, Boros invited all showcased artists to personally install their own site-specific works. “It felt natural to invite the artists to our bunker, to have them check out the created space and to find inspiration,” he explains of the unusual curatorial practice. “Most of them

Living the dream: “To house the collection in the bunker and to live on top of the art is better than I ever imagined,” says Christian Boros, pictured next to a Franz Ackerman painting.

Staying at Shoreditch Rooms entitles guests to access Shoreditch House.

Guests to access Shoreditch Houseto

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PHOTOGRAPHY JULIAN KINGMA

Light and dark (clockwise from here): Santiago Sierra’s Construction and installation of tar-coated forms (2002/2008), organised in two spaces; Olafur Eliasson’s Berlin Colour Sphere (2006); Life Enigma (2008), foreground, and Untitled (2008) by Anselm Reyle; and Untitled light installation, also by Reyle.

“Art gives me everything in my professional life – power, inspiration, energy – it’s my motivation to make money” liked the idea of making some changes to their artworks for the space. Usually it’s the other way around, with museums and galleries changing their architecture and spaces for the art. I liked the idea of this ‘art-evolution’. ” Before installation, German artist Katja Strunz’s Zeittraum # 7 (2004) was displayed horizontally on a huge wall in a generic exhibition space where “it could be overlooked all at one – within a second,” recalls Casper.

Now, the angular sculpture of folded paper planes climbs up four levels and countless walls. There is no single vantage point from which the work can be viewed in its entirety. Similarly, Polish artist Monika Sosnowska adapted her colossal black-lacquered sculpture to fit the unique spatial dimensions. It now bolts through the walls to dissect various rooms.

When he was seven, Boros moved with his parents from his birthplace of Poland to Cologne, Germany.

During the ’80s, Cologne was the epicentre of the contemporary arts world and it was there that Boros first encountered contemporary art. At 18, he used money his parents gave him as a high school graduation gift to buy his first work, Joseph Beuys’ Intuitionskiste.

In 1984, Boros left Cologne to study advertising under the renowned professor of aesthetics Bazon Brock and prolific German artist Martin Kippenberger at the University of Wuppertal, a provincial town in Germany’s Ruhr valley. Inspired by his educators, Boros travelled to London almost every weekend, immersing himself in the arts scene and socialising with enfant terribles such as Damien Hirst, Sarah Lucas and Tracey Emin, purchasing their works as a result. While the Young British Artists have grown to become some of the most commercially 44 wish September 2012

viable and celebrated of their generation, Boros says he is no longer as interested in their work, preferring instead to concentrate on Polish and Berlin-based artists.

As a student in Wuppertal, Boros promised his professors that if he were ever to be commercially successful, he would “give something back” to the industry. “This is why I buy art, why I collect it,” he explains, many years on. “Art gives me everything in my professional life – inspiration, power, energy. It is my motivation to make money. By collecting art I can show my gratitude to it.”

When the wall fell in 1989, liberal artists, students and creatives decamped to the former East Berlin, where they established illegal clubs and project studios in abandoned buildings. Vibrant and cutting-edge, these independent enclaves infiltrated the gloomy Communist streetscape. With the help of initiatives such as the Kunst-Werke Institute for Contemporary Art and, later, the Berlin Biennale, the capital gained legitimacy as a leading centre for European art and culture, fostering an art-hungry audience who were flocking to the dynamic metropolis like never before.

For Boros, settling in Berlin made unequivocal sense. “Geographically, it’s located between London and Warsaw – where I buy young Polish art – but it’s [also] the centre of a young, energetic group of artists and the most stimulating art life. It was the only right decision we could make,” he says.

With its low-slung, homogenous facade, the rooftop residence Boros shares with Lohmann and their young son can easily be overlooked from the street. In stark contrast to the bunker’s hermetic maze, the penthouse

HANNS JOOSTEN

HANNS JOOSTEN

Haus proud: The family residence sits atop the museum. In contrast to the bunker beneath, the home is full of light and space. The rooftop pool contrasts with the dark humour of the guest bathroom (below).

JULIAN KINGMA

HANNS JOOSTEN

“I don’t need particular SLHFHV WR ¹OO RXW JDSV LQ RXU collection ... I need a piece because I burn for it”

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features skylights and glass walls that provide easy access to terraces with views over the urban landscape. A pool is reflected on the ceiling of the open-plan living area, which contributes to the flowing transparency of the space.

A self-described “city person”, Boros’ love for his adopted home courses through his veins. “When someone comes to Berlin, all synapses are put on receive,” he told art critic Axel Lapp shortly after opening the bunker. “There are curious people here, and it’s fun to share something with curious people. Every long weekend, all the motorways and trains are packed and the whole of Germany comes to Berlin. People come here; they are curious and open. I want to have things discussed here. I’m part of the present – which means that I also value spontaneity. All of this – this quality of communication, of neighbourhood – I don’t have this in the provinces,” he says.

While the works on display are highly divisive, provocative and often extremely crude, Boros refutes esotericism, asserting that neither he, nor his visitors, need to “get it all” as long as they feel “something … because that’s what counts!” In fact, he has frequently been quoted as saying that he often purchases things he doesn’t like or understand. “It’s too easy for me to find something nice and beautiful. I have to be careful in that case. Quite the opposite, when I feel something is disturbing or irritating, it forces me to think about it, to try and understand it, to get into it.”

Boros admits to not being strategic or favouring any particular medium but simply buying what he likes.

“When I collect art, it’s just what I want, what’s important to me. It’s a very subjective way [of collecting],” he says,

with a touch of irreverence. “I don’t need particular pieces to fill out gaps in our collection, to make it look absolute; I need a piece because I burn for it.”

However, Boros is far from impulsive; in 2008, he told Art Review magazine his “insatiable hunger for images” bordered on the addictive. Nowadays, his time is consumed with visiting as many exhibitions as possible, scouring biennales, museum, fairs and galleries. Next to his advertising agency and the book publishing company, Distanz, he runs with Angelika Taschen and Uta Grosenick, Boros spends all his time researching, confessing art to be “the only thing I’m really interested in.” Never more so than now, as he prepares for the bunker’s first ever reinstallation: Boros Collection #2, which opens on the 17th of this month.

Commencing this month, the highly anticipated exhibit will feature the mixed media works of Alicja Kwade, Klara Liden, Michael Sailstorfer, Thomas Ruff, Danh Vo, Ai Weiwei and others. Locals and visitors alike are waiting with bated breath to see what will come next from these artists and the great Mr Boros, who has become inextricably tied to Berlin’s zeitgeist.

Boros’ five consecutive listings in Art Review’s “Power 100” have cemented him as a serious player on the international stage but, looking at his beloved behemoth, rankings and recognition couldn’t be farther from this man’s mind. “Now, to house the collection in the bunker and to live on top of the art is better than I ever imagined,” he says, incredulous even now, four years on. “Sometimes I still cannot believe it. I’m still stunned when I walk through the exhibition or when I see the building out of a cab or when I arrive in Berlin after a business trip. w It’s my home and it makes me happy.”