Sissel Tolaas is a Norwegian ‘smell artist’ and olifactory expert, who lives in Berlin. Click here to listen to Berlinchester’s interview with the woman who’s made following her nose into an art form. This show will be broadcast on Resonance 104.4 FM, on Saturday 3rd April 2010.

Newsflash: Monokultur, an excellent Berlin-based magazine, has devoted its latest issue to Tolaas.

Berlinchester was lucky enough to able to co-present this month’s Ruby’s Chicky Boil-Ups on Radio Nowhere, which is presented and produced by my genial artist, musician, and broadcaster cousin Ruby Wright. The show’s theme is height and you can access it here!

The Czech embassy looms out from the corner of Mohrenstrasse and Wilhelmstrasse, Berlin’s traditional government quarter, like a giant cold war spaceship, ready to suck up passers by and transport them back to the mid-70s. Which in a manner of speaking, it does. This concrete and glass behemoth is a great example of ‘Soviet Sci-Fi” architecture- a term coined by Frederic Chaubin, editor of Citizen K, to describe 1960s and 70s Communist bloc buildings with a space-age aesthetic. These Sovio-futurist structures have been slowly vanishing from Berlin’s cityscape since the Wende, although the Czech embassy looks likely to be around for a while, not least due to its stunning interior.

The (then) Czechoslovakian embassy was built between 1974 and 1978 by architects Vera and Vladimir Machonin (who were also responsible for the Kotva department store in Prague). It initially stood alone in the wasteland adjacent to the Berlin wall, a massive 48×48-metre monolith, with only Hitler’s bunker for company. The area has subsequently been built up, but this doesn’t appear to have diminished the building’s stunning monumentality. The Brutalist design –no obvious entrance, lots of concrete and mirrored glass (a commie fave) – makes the embassy a less than inviting prospect. But if the exterior shouts “be afraid, be very afraid!” then the interior says something more along the lines of: “Harvey Wallbanger, anyone?” It’s a colourful stylistic journey back to the mid-1970s, which has remained for the most part unchanged since the embassy was opened. The dark entranceway, tucked under the recesses of the building, opens out onto to a wood-panelled lobby and various circular anterooms, decked out in eye-wateringly bright reds and yellows. Futuristic glass and metal lampshades hang from slatted orange and red ceilings. Rows of chairs upholstered in red and tan coloured leather are set out in each room, as if awaiting the return of some mutton-chopped, beflared diplomats. On the first floor, an enormous conference room with movable walls and huge angular windows provides views of the neighbouring GDR-era housing estate, once home to celebs such as Katharina Witt and the man who accidentally brought down the Berlin wall, politburo member Günter Schabowski. The embassy also houses a small cinema, decorated in a vivid combo of blues and oranges, a colour combination that few interior designers have dared undertake since then. In one room, a huge painting of the Baltic Sea hangs from the wall, a gift from the GDR to the landlocked CSSR (the GDR authorities seemed to have enjoyed giving people views of what they didn’t have – trip up the TV tower to have a look at the West, anyone?). The almost flawless mid-70s Ostbloc aesthetic which characterises the interior is only slightly let down by the presence of some large, hideous  reproductions etchings of Old Prague TM. Oh well, you can’t have it all!

Although it’s yet to be given an 8-page spread in Wallpaper magazine (which in time, it will), the embassy’s interior has a cult reputation. It’s occasionally used for fashion shoots and parties, and photographer Candida Höfer devoted an entire book to it. Whilst there has been some discussion about renovation, there are no immediate plans to make any changes to the interior, which should be preserved for all time, as a lesson to designers on how to get 70s revivals right. Were this London, the building would have been sold off and turned into a hip members club long ago, but in Berlin, where there is space aplenty and property is not at a premium, it thankfully remains in the hand of the Czechs.

Berlinchester (nee Berlinshire) has been busy travelling around the former GDR, interviewing DJs. Meanwhile here is a new version of the DJ programme, entitled ‘The Recorded Disk Entertainers’,for you to be going on with… The show will be broadcast on Resonance FM on Saturday 22nd November at 21.00

Berlinchester has contributed an article about DJing in the GDR to the latest issue of B EAST magazine Enjoy!:-)

Berlinshire gets lost in the cultural desert of Wedding in north Berlin and stumbles upon the Anti-Kriegs Museum (Anti-War Museum). A 15-minute introduction to the life of the museum’s founder, anarchist-pacifist Ernst Friedrich, the man who declared war on war.

In the German Democratic Republic, DJs weren’t called DJs. In order to distinguish themselves from their capitalist neighbours in the West, the East Germans invented their own vernacular for certain things. So, in the East, you didn’t eat hamburgers and hot dogs, you ate grilletta and ketwurst. And in East Germany you weren’t a DJ, you were a Schallplattenunterhalter (SPU)- a recorded disc entertainer, or later in the 1980s, a Diskomoderator – a disco presenter.
Like every other profession in East Germany, DJ-ing or ‘disco moderating’, had to be state-approved. In order to perform in public, you had to undergo official DJ ‘training’, pass a test, an exam, and then you’d get a DJ-ing permit, which was valid for two years.
In Berlinshire at the GDR Disco, I talked to Andreas Vendt-Schmidt, a former SPU from Cottbus in East Germany, about entertaining communist bureaucrats, East German Rick Astleys and music quotas behind the Iron Curtain.

Berlinshire is presented and produced by Maisie Hitchcock, and broadcast on Resonance FM in London

Resonance FM broadcast two bunker-tastic Berlinshire Micro Clearspots on 17th/18th December 2007.

In May 2007, I visited the Story of Berlin, a museum located just off shoppers’ paradise Ku’damm, and the site of a large nuclear bunker. This converted car park and JG Ballard-esque spook chamber is still fully functional, and was one of 11 bunkers built in West Berlin to accommodate a paltry percentage of the population in the event of a nuclear war.

In part one, guide Maritta Horwarth talks to me about living conditions, air supplies, and chances of survival inside the Atombunker. And in the second part of our tour, we chat about plumbing, airlocks, and handy ways of protecting yourself from a nuclear blast.

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