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Extract Category: Art & Architecture

A Grand Reception

for New Masters


The story of the Albertinum in Dresden, a museum that attained its ideal form from the whims of weather, is surely unique in the history of art. Incredibly, the Albertinum owes its new light-flooded atrium to rain. This former armoury building with its solid vaulted basement was part of an old fortress built in the 16th century on the banks of the river Elbe that can still be recognised today. In the late 19th century, the Albertinum was redesigned, initially as an exhibition space for antique sculptures. For over 100 years, it hosted a variety of collections as a much-used, much-rebuilt and finally somewhat worn-out museum. Even though the building could have done with some improvement, no plans had been made. Until 12 August 2002 changed everything.

Helpers in rubber boots
On this fateful day, eastern Saxony experienced unusually heavy rainfall. Even in the days preceding the storm, water levels in the tributaries of the Elbe had been worryingly high. The river was now transformed into a raging torrent such as no citizen of Dresden had ever seen before. Situated directly on the banks of the Elbe, the
old basement of the Albertinum was used as a storeroom for sculptures and pictures. In the night of 12 August, water penetrated the storerooms of the Old Masters Gallery in the Zwinger. In response, Martin Roth, Director of the Dresden State Art Collections, ordered the evacuation of the Albertinum’s basement. At this point, conditions in the city could not have been more chaotic. The telephone lines were down, as were the power supply and transport
systems. But Roth had no choice. All the museum’s employees were called in, policemen and firemen lent a hand, and even the army assisted in pulling off this gigantic rescue operation. Helpers in rubber boots hauled heavy antique statues and works of art that normally are not handled at all, or at the very most with reverence and cotton gloves, up the winding stairs by candlelight. The freight elevator was not working, nor was the alarm system. So the army took over the job of protecting the treasures. The Elbe’s water level did not stop rising until five days later, when it reached 9.40 metres. The normal level is 2.70 metres. It was the kind of flood that occurs only once in a hundred years. Nevertheless, it was clear that the artworks were not safe in the underground storerooms in the long term. This time they had been lucky, but there was no guarantee they would be next time. The Albertinum was saved by 45 artists from all over the world: Gerhard Richter, Georg Baselitz, Andreas Gursky, Nancy Spero, Thomas Struth and many others donated a piece of artwork to an auction for flood relief aid. A grand total of 3.4 million euros were collected for the Dresden Art Collections and went towards creating a flood-proof storeroom.

A stunningly simple idea
But where should it be built? The challenge was to find a place close by the museum, taking into account the shortage of space not only in the Albertinum itself, but also in the entire, densely built historic old town. The architectural competition was won by Berlin-based Staab Architekten with a stunningly simple and yet revolutionary idea: The storeroom was relocated to the roof, radically clearing out the long-neglected inner courtyard in
the process. The museum was closed for four years while renovation work was done. When it reopened last year, the old armoury building was completely transformed. The atrium, which had been almost forgotten, was converted into a spacious entrance hall leading to the four wings of the museum. Amazingly, the roof above it seems almost transparent, even though a 2,700-ton, two-storey construction hovers high above visitors’ heads. Architect Volker Staab designed it in such a way that it does not protrude above the old roof of the building, meaning it cannot be seen from the outside and does not disrupt the silhouette of the old town. Also visible only to employees of the State Art Collections are the workshops and ateliers inside. Previously distributed between the Albertinum and the Zwinger, they are now located on the second floor above the storerooms on the museum’s roof. The light streaming into the building from the north provides ideal conditions for restoring the paintings and sculptures. The freight elevator acts as a supporting element for the construction in the east wing as well as connecting the different floors. It provides a pleasingly clear and practical structure for all those working in and with the museum. What surely strikes visitors most, however, is the entrance hall, suffused in natural daylight, a seemingly impossible feat considering the closed ceiling above. But here, again, the architects came up with a brilliant plan: The storerooms are suspended in a bridgelike construction, supported on the narrow ends of the building,
leaving a strip open along the longer side walls for light to pass through. Combined with the fact that the ceiling is lit from below, the entrance hall doesn’t feel closed-in at all. Instead, it is a wonderful place to spend time, leaf through a book while drinking an espresso, or take a rest before continuing a tour of the museum. Another aspect of the museum has also been nicely solved: Before it was renovated, the only way into the museum was via Brühl Terrace, which often meant taking the long way round, especially for shoppers. Many a tourist presumably searched in vain for the entrance. Now the museum can be accessed from the other side too, at ground level, not far from the Frauenkirche. True to the philosophy of Dresden State Art Collections, visitors do not need a ticket to wander through the Albertinum. They pay only if they want to see a special exhibition. In other words, as in the Zwinger and Royal Palace, visitors can stroll through the historic building even if their only aim is to admire the beautiful architecture or escape the rain!

From a military armoury to a modern museum
The Albertinum’s exterior, built in the style of an Italian Renaissance palace, remained unchanged. But inside, it has been transformed into a modern museum for contemporary art with sufficient space to allow the individual works of art to unfold their magic. This was not always the case: After the Second World War, which left Dresden’s city centre completely destroyed, Soviet troops commandeered everything the Art Collections owned. Paintings by the Old and the New Masters, precious jewellery from the Green Vault, the vast porcelain collection and valuable sculptures were taken to Moscow. In 1958, the Soviet Union returned almost all the pieces in the collection. Although the Picture
Gallery in the reconstructed Zwinger was reopened in 1960, the Royal Palace remained a ruin until the 1990s. As a result, there was not enough exhibition space and the sculptures, the treasures from the Green Vault, the Coin Collection, the Collection of Prints, Drawings and Photographs, and the Armoury were all crowded into the rooms of the Albertinum, which had sustained less severe damage. After 1961, the works by the New Masters were finally moved to rooms on the top floor that were flooded with natural light from above. Surprisingly, they were not shown separately from the Old Masters until 1931. After all, the directors of the Painting Gallery had been collecting contemporary art since 1830. Hans Posse (1879–1942) very effectively placed the collection’s emphasis on Dresden Romanticism and German Impressionism, supplemented with works by the Expressionists and the New Objectivity
movement. Dresden was also home to a vibrant art scene that helped feed the collection. Not only Caspar David Friedrich taught at the time-honoured Academy of Art, but also Otto Dix and Oskar Kokoschka. The painters of the group “Die Brücke” (The Bridge), led by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Max Pechstein and Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, met in Dresden. Gerhard Richter, Thomas Scheibitz and numerous other well-known contemporary artists spent their early years in the city. For decades, the paintings jostled for space in the Albertinum. Hedged in, the individual
collections could not really be exhibited to full effect. Boxed in by workshops, the cloakroom and a kiosk, little could be seen of the inner courtyard. A tour of the works of art was more like finding your way through a labyrinth.

Relaxed atmosphere
A hint of the liberated, relaxed atmosphere that prevailed after the flood disaster still lingers in the new Albertinum. Antique statues, Assyrian frescoes, Baroque portraits, urns, vases and trophies are packed closely together on warehouse-like shelves, sparingly lit with spotlights, and, most importantly, cheek by jowl with the very newest contemporary artists, creating startling juxtapositions.


Sirii Klose

Extract Category: Nature

Painting with Nature

Prince Pückler is Saxony's only UNESCO World Heritage Site

Muskau Park is Germany’s foremost landscape garden and the magnificent creation of Prince Pückler-Muskau. The aristocrat moved mountains, dug lakes and planted hundreds of thousands of trees in his romantic refuge.
Bad Muskau lies on the eastern border of Germany, separated from Poland by the river Neisse. It was here between 1815 and 1845 that the brilliant and eccentric Prince Hermann von Pückler- Muskau created probably the most significant landscape park outside England, the homeland of this garden speciality, transforming his property – “a desert of kinds where only wolves, wild boar, peasants and dunces roamed” – into a wonderland. Today, thousands of tourists come from all over the world to visit the gardens he cultivated on 830 hectares of land. A narrow road leads from the town’s unimposing market square to the park. It is an entrance to paradise, to a world apart. Visitors stroll past the Old Palace, a bulky but harmonious baroque gatehouse, to find themselves at the edge of a sea of the most varied tones of mottled green. As far as the eye can see, gently rolling lawns spread out, dotted with ancient, giant trees that give the park a melancholy, timeless feel; broad gravelled paths lead around a placid, almost black lake to the New Palace. Not just the town, but also everyday life seems far away. At the same time, there is something unsettling about the panorama: Is it wild natural growth or the genius of a competent gardener? Art or nature? “The perfection of landscape art,” Pückler wrote in his book Hints on Landscape Gardening, “is reached only in the region where it again appears to be untrammelled Nature, but in her noblest manifestation.”
It is probably this game of deception that makes Pückler’s rather sombre park so fascinating. He arranged nature much like on a stage: in the foreground solitary trees with widespread branches, mostly beech, oaks, and basswood; on the horizon, islands of elm trees with mighty crowns in steady motion; in between, irregular groups of trees like moorings in the green sea of the meadow, bordered by thick bushes, and dotted here and there with ironic exclamation marks, such as the three high black poplars in the palace garden. The trees once stood on an island in the river Neisse, it is said. Pückler brought them here using powerful transplanting machines. The more recent trees were planted in 1985. “Certainly, single groups of trees planted on a lawn and appropriately distributed, emerging from the green of the grass like an island, have a much more gracious and picturesque effect than clumps, that look like they sound, clumsy and ungainly,” the prince suggests.
Through the shady green of the meadows and trees flows the “Hermannsneisse,” a stream that Pückler branched off from the Neisse to create an artificial waterscape of lakes, ponds and rapids and to satisfy his passion for bridges. Ten of these are distributed throughout the park, six alone in the immediate vicinity of the palace. From the Karpfen bridge to the Eichsee bridge and the Fuchsia bridge, they all demonstrate the playful architecture of a man who loved transforming everything around him into poetry, but had an eye for the technical side of things, too.

His interest went as far as working out the drafts for the substructure of his broad gravel garden paths. They meander through the park, following neither a geometrical nor artificial pattern, but the shape of the land. As for his plants, trees, meadows and waterways, Pückler also wrote down textbook instructions for shaping paths in his Hints on Landscape Gardening. Here, he specified that “the roads and paths should not run in continual curves like a serpent wound round a stick, but should rather make such bends as serve a definite purpose easily and effectively,
following as far as possible the contours of the ground. Certain aesthetic rules dictate these bends in themselves, and hence in places obstacles must be set up where they do not naturally occur in order to make the graceful line appear natural.” More than other details of the park, visitors can be certain that the paths are original features leading to the highlights of the park. Pückler proposed three tours of different lengths through his park and the most recent guide still follows these faithfully. Whereas the prince used a special garden carriage for his tours, estimating that it would take eight days to study the grounds intensively, including all the paths, the present-day park guide proposes four hours on foot. The idea of turning his home wasteland into a Garden of Eden came to Pückler on two journeys to England, where he not only visited the most important English parks, but also closely studied the art of English garden design. He sketched pleasure grounds, measured paths, examined the mystery of the legendary British lawn and learned the tricks needed to successfully transplant even older trees. He virtually memorised the bestselling book Observations on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening by the great landscape architect Humphrey Repton. Pückler later invited Repton’s son to plan the lawn in front of the New Palace. Back in Germany, he mentioned in the introduction to “Hints” why England would remain for him an unattainable role model, compared to the “continental squalor and dirt”. Near disgust, he summarizes: “Must we not be filled with a real sense of shame when we look for a counterpart here and still find the greater part of our country seats whose chief view looks on the manure heap, at whose gates for the greater part of the day swine and geese disport themselves.” Pückler first started writing the book with the intention of promoting himself as a gardener. It was to become a kind of bible, not only in Germany: His friend Heinrich Heine organised a French edition and the Reptons an English one. The book was held in high esteem in the professional world. Today, the extensive work serves as documentation for preservationists of historic sites, landscape gardeners and Pückler historians, and at the same time offers a detailed description of Muskau Park. But the stately gardener loved his visions more than reality. Lacking any reasonable planning sense and without giving a thought to the horrendous debts he was incurring, he began to expand his park in the 1840s to the scope laid out in his “Hints” – by 350 hectares to a gargantuan 750 hectares in size. It was the climax of an unfinished symphony. But in 1845 when his accounting books revealed that Muskau had debts amounting to 1.7 million thalers, of which a million had been spent on the still unfinished park, Pückler capitulated. He was forced to accept that his park would be completed by future generations. Muskau had to be sold. Through noble front men, the estate was bought by an admirer of Pückler, Prince Frederick of the Netherlands. This was lucky for Muskau, because the royal park enthusiast kept on Pückler’s associate, park inspector Jacob Heinrich Rehder, and even commissioned him to carry on expanding the park. Rehder was succeeded in 1852 by Eduard Petzold, who oversaw the maintenance and development of the park according to Pückler’s principles. Early on, Petzold had been responsible for founding an educational institution for gardeners based on Pückler’s Hints on Landscape Gardening. Today it still exists as the “Muskau School” and is housed in a wing of the New Palace.

Gardening historians today agree that the park attained perfection under Petzold, a perfection that the Second World War destroyed. In 1945, the front ran straight through the park and large sections were damaged by artillery fire. After the war, Poland placed those parts of the park on its side of the Neisse under conservation. Left untended, they quickly became overgrown. It is only now that glimpses of Pückler’s aesthetic intentions are gradually becoming apparent again on the Polish side of the park. Since 2004, a new double bridge has connected the two sides of the park via an island. But in other ways, too, Poland and Germany have discovered that the park is indivisible and have started sharing responsibility for it. In 1993, the “Prince Pückler Park Bad Muskau Foundation” was established with the goal of restoring Muskau Park, modelled on the original plans and based on cooperation. And the prince’s family? On the day Muskau was sold, Pückler is said to have saddled his fastest horse and ridden around his creation. He then sped off at a full gallop, without looking back, according to Pückler’s biographer Paul Ortwin Rave. The advisory board of the Pückler Foundation boasts not only international members from England and Poland, but also the Munich businessman, Count Hermann von Pückler. The prince’s great nephew is responsible for the maintenance of Muskau Park as well as nearby Branitz Castle in Brandenburg, the family seat of the Pücklers. Today, he occasionally resides in the former park inspector’s house, which he bought and restored. Pückler the businessman has inherited his ancestor’s green thumb: Like the prince, he is a passionate lover of forests and owns some 1,000 hectares of trees. He is working on a kind of “forest bridge” that in the distant future will connect Muskau with Branitz, 50 kilometres away. Woodland owners always think in generations. Count Pückler is not lord of an estate, but he is lord of numerous books and documents that belonged to his famous ancestor. His contribution of rarities, pictures and certificates made the impressive Pückler exhibition “Pückler! Pückler? Simply Unbelievable!” in the New Palace an event not to be missed. Throughout the world, Prince Pückler is still honoured as a brilliant
park planner. Three of his landscape gardens – Muskau, Ettersberg near Weimar and Babelsberg – are now UNESCO World Heritage Sites. On their vast lawns and under the many thousands of trees that were planted according to Pückler’s plans, visitors can let their fantasies roam. As art historian Norbert Eisold writes, “Large parts of Muskau Park will always remain a utopian vision. Indeed, the fact that Muskau Park can only reach perfection in the mind of the observer is now the most singular characteristic of the park.” The prince himself saw Muskau Park as his life’s work: “Those who have seen Muskau have seen into my heart,” he wrote in 1833.

 

Nicolaus Neumann/MERIAN

Extract Category: Business Venue Saxony

Trading Places

Leipzig Trade Fair

 

What Came First, the Trade Fair or the City?
Leipzig is its trade fair and its trade fair is Leipzig. The city has embodied this concept for centuries. Thanks to its innovative spirit and ideal geographic location, Leipzig is the cradle of the global trade fair business. More than in any other commercial metropolis, the people of Leipzig identify with their trade fair. Leipzig was a meeting place for traders and merchants as early as the Middle Ages. But more than that: Trade determined the way the city developed from the start. The trade routes Via Regia, linking Paris in the west to Nowgorod in the Ural Mountains in the east, and Via Imperii, between Bergen in Norway in the north and Rome in the south, crossed in Libzi, a small town of Slavic origin. Here, merchants from far and wide traded their goods at the local markets as long as 1,000 years ago. In 1165, the town was granted its town charter and market privileges, and this date is still celebrated as Leipzig’s founding year. The trade fair is mentioned more and more from the 15th century onwards. The German word for trade fair, “Messe”, also came from here, originally referring to the custom practised by foreign merchants of attending a church service, or Mass, on their arrival. Afterwards, the hustle and bustle of buying and selling began on Leipzig’s market square.

The Sample Fair – A Leipzig Invention
At the time of the industrial revolution in the
mid-19th century, the trade fair in Leipzig, where goods were sold in large volumes, was running out of space. Facilitated by the invention of the railway, more and more merchants flocked to the Saxon city with their wares. At the same time, the rise of mass and large-batch production meant they no longer needed to bring their whole range of products to the trade fair. As a result, firms increasingly started showing samples of their products. In 1870, over 100 exhibitors came to the sample fair in Leipzig; by 1885 the number had grown to 348. The breakthrough came around 1900: By now, Leipzig trade fair was held twice a year, in spring and autumn. The concept of a sample fair began enjoying triumphal success around the world. After Leipzig, similar fairs were launched in London in 1915 and in Lyon, Bordeaux, Frankfurt am Main and Lausanne in 1916. As more and more samples were presented and the number of exhibitors and new products grew, the trade fair again needed more space. In 1893, the city of Leipzig awarded a contract to build a large trading hall. As early as 1894, the first autumn sample fair took place in the new building, and the “city trading house” was officially inaugurated in 1896. Five years later, in 1901, the first trade fair centre in the world was completed. By the mid-1930s, some 30 buildings had been erected. The autumn fair in 1919 attracted as many as 9,500 exhibitors and almost 120,000 visitors, including 10,000 from abroad. Capacity in Leipzig’s city centre was now stretched to the limit. Between 1920 and 1928, 17 exhibition halls with a total of 130,000 m² of exhibition space were built on premises outside the city near the Battle of the Nations Monument.
From 1919 to 1923, Leipzig trade fair was represented by its own foreign agencies in 66 countries. The city was now not only the “mother of all trade fairs”, as Edouard Herriot, Mayor of Lyon, said in praise of the sample fair, but also a “world trade fair” par excellence.

Dark Hours
The world economic crisis of 1929 hit the trade fair in Leipzig hard. In 1932, 100,000 people were unemployed. Whereas the 1929 spring fair had drawn 165,000 visitors and more than 10,000 exhibitors, by 1932 it had dwindled to just 107,000 visitors and little more than 6,400 exhibitors. During the Nazi era, Leipzig trade fair degenerated to a propaganda venue for the Nazis. The nationalisation of the economy and the expropriation and persecution of Jewish merchants scared off foreign guests. By the time the Second World War broke out in 1939, Leipzig was no longer an international meeting point. From 1942 onwards, the trade fair in Leipzig was discontinued due to the war and the buildings were used as assembly plants for weapons. On 4 December 1943, allied bombs destroyed 75 percent of the exhibition grounds. The war ended in Leipzig on 19 April 1945, when American army combat units liberated the city.

Trading Post for East-West Relations
Back during the world economic crisis, many companies had been saved from bankruptcy when Soviet Russia ordered machines in Leipzig on a grand scale during its industrialization campaign in the late 1920s. In 1926, an exhibition hall was built specifically for the Soviet Union for these East-West transactions. After the end of the Second World War in 1950, the Soviet Pavilion was erected in a style reminiscent of the Stalinist architecture predominant in Moscow at the time, with its pointed roof and red star. Despite the considerable damage wrought during the war, the first Leipzig post-war trade fair was held on 8 May 1946, the first anniversary of the capitulation of German armed forces. It went down in history as the first peace trade fair, drawing exhibitors from all four occupied zones (including 12,500 West German exhibitors) as well as firms from the Soviet Union, the only foreign country present. After the Second World War, Leipzig trade fair underwent a radical change. Following the division of Germany and the integration of East Germany into the Eastern European socialist economic area, Leipzig became the most important trade fair in the East. The Eastern Bloc used it to demonstrate its economic power. The slogan at the time, “Leipzig – Window to the World”, indicates how political leaders in East Germany viewed Leipzig trade fair as an important aspect of the country’s image to the rest of the world. At the same time, renowned Western European, and in particular West German, companies came here to cultivate business contacts in the East. Finally, Leipzig trade fair also played an important role during the Cold War and the period of détente from the 1970s as a bridge for personal and economic relations between East and West.

Change Through Rapprochement
Every year in spring and autumn, Leipzig was transformed into a vibrant metropolis. Planes from all over the world landed on the small airfield at the edge of town. Tens of thousands of visitors from both sides of the Iron Curtain headed to the socialist country: business men, government officials, heads of state and journalists. Throngs of exhibitors came from West German cities in particular. Every March and September, for a few days, the streets of this town with its half-a-million inhabitants were filled with the babble of different languages. Alongside the East German Trabant and Wartburg car makes, Mercedes, Chevrolets and BMWs cruised through town. Business and pleasure were inseparable for a short time. A special cultural programme was organised to accompany the trade fair, offering entertainment to foreign exhibitors and visitors staying in the city. In the evenings, people flocked not only to the bars, but also to the Gewandhaus concert hall, the opera, theatre and cabaret. And wherever they went, they forged contacts. The many inns and cafés benefited most: Daily events ensured that these establishments were filled to bursting. But there was one problem: There were not enough hotel beds. Everything was booked up, even in neighbouring towns. Students were accustomed to vacating their rooms in the student dormitories during trade fair time. Private accommodation was in high demand. Children’s bedrooms were turned into guest rooms. Renting was a matter of trust: After all, guests were given a key to the front door! The gulf between supply and demand, desire and reality, grew from year to year. It is no coincidence that the Monday Demonstrations started in Leipzig during the autumn trade fair in 1989. The trade fairs were an international meeting point, offering tantalising glimpses of the world outside. Soon afterwards, the East German regime collapsed and in 1990, the two German states were reunified. As a technological symbol of this political development that ended the separation of Germany, in the late 1980s the traditional East German car makes Trabant and Wartburg were fitted with West German engines from Volkswagen.

Leipzig Carries On
Within a year of this political turning point, Leipzig trade fair had lost the monopoly it had held in socialist East Germany. Under new political and economic auspices, the objectives of the trade fair were redefined. If Leipzig was to maintain its position in a reunified Germany, it would have to invest in a new exhibition centre and a new exhibition programme. In September 1990, the autumn fair opened its doors for the last time. The idea of moving to a new location was born in April 1991. After the German government agreed to contribute to its funding in August 1991, the organisers decided to build a new exhibition and congress centre on the northern edge of the city. Not long after, Leipzig’s city council also gave the project the go-ahead. The cornerstone was laid in August 1993, and the new Leipzig trade fair was inaugurated just two-and-a-half years later, on 12 April 1996. The new exhibition and congress centre sets standards on all counts. Events like Auto Mobil International, Baufach and Leipzig Book Fair turned a new page in the history of Leipzig trade fair. The concept of specialist trade fairs presented by Leipziger Messe GmbH, the organising company founded by the Free State of Saxony and the city of Leipzig, took account of the changes in market conditions in a new, united Europe. Thirteen new foreign agencies were opened in ten countries in Central and Eastern Europe. With its impressive glass pavilion and five spacious exhibition halls, the 680-million-euro exhibition centre is today not only a meeting place for exhibitors and visitors to specialist trade fairs, but also a venue for concerts and sporting events. With its sophisticated logistics and impressive glass and steel architecture, it is one of the most modern in Europe. Leipzig Congress Centre, which is attached to the trade fair, has already made a name for itself as a top conference venue for international congresses and events.

Customized Trade Fairs
With a range of trade fairs for the automotive and construction industries, the environment and energy, logistics, information technology, fashion and lifestyle, bookmaking and literature, health, medicine and consumer goods, Leipzig is once again a major forum for retailers, industry, consumers and citizens. Under new social conditions, the trade fair is building on its traditional strengths as a meeting place for international business partners. More than 30 specialist and public trade fairs draw over a million visitors to Leipzig every year. Leipziger Messe intends to consolidate its position in the national and international trade fair market by collaborating with other exhibition centres to overcome the new challenges in the international trade fair business. The old trade fair buildings in the city centre, with their long history, are today used for other purposes. But once a year, at the annual book fair, downtown throngs again with visitors. Readings are held in cafés, in book stores and even in the city hall, almost like in the old days.

Extract Category: Business Venue Saxony

Long Life Basics

Luxurious Fabrics Made in the Ore Mountains

 

Boubous with air conditioning
“It all started in 1882, when the Berlin cotton company Samuel Wolle took over the weaving mill in Aue and entrusted my great-grandfather with managing the company,” Michael Bauer looks back on the company’s history. Over the years, the company grew fast and gained an excellent reputation for tablecloths, bed linen and towels. The export business flourished in the 1920s. “My great-grandfather Alwin had 11 siblings, some of whom emigrated to America. So every month, a whole freight container of cloth was shipped across the big pond.” But the problems started when the National Socialists came to power. Since Samuel Wolle was of Jewish origin, the company was renamed after Alwin Bauer’s son, Curt Bauer. On top of that, it had to give up several parts of the building to the arms industry. Curt Bauer protested against this and against the inhumane treatment of employees in the arms industry in Aue. To avoid imprisonment and probable hanging by the National Socialists, he chose to take his own life in 1944. His sons Alexander and Wolfgang took over the company’s management after the Second World War and fought against the influence of the state in communist East Germany. During this time, they had to take any opportunity they could while still retaining their creative spirit. In the mid-60s, an interesting business proposition cropped up at Leipzig trade fair, which still has the orders rolling in today: They were asked to supply the West African market with cloth for the so-called Grand Boubou, initially via English re-exporters. The Boubou is a festive and everyday robe worn by men and women. “The Boubou is a status symbol in West Africa,” Michael Bauer explains. “Like cars here. The texture and gleam of the cloth play a key role. With our machines, we can supply damasks with extremely fine thread, a high-quality finish and unusual designs. Each country has its own fashion, so we often travel to West Africa to keep up with the trends.” One such fad is air permeability, achieved with a certain weaving technique, and which Michael Bauer jokingly calls “Boubous with air conditioning”. In West Africa, they are then usually embroidered and batik-dyed. A woman’s Boubou, for example, requires as much as six metres of exceptionally easy-to-wear fabric.

Starting from scratch
Following the political turnaround in 1990, the traditional firm was forced to reposition itself and find a new strategic approach. “In 1972, my father had to watch the business being nationalised, but he carried on working until he retired in 1981,” Michael Bauer remembers. “After the Berlin Wall came down, my brother and I, both of us trained in textiles, took the opportunity to apply for reprivatisation. It was approved, and slowly we managed to return the company to its former strength with the help of investment schemes set up by the Free State of Saxony. Today, we see ourselves as a modern company that is more than aware of its history.” This is also apparent inside the administration building: The stucco on the ceilings has been renovated, the art nouveau windows restored and the marble staircase lovingly cared for. The workshops have also been modernised in line with environmental standards, not least due to a devastating natural catastrophe in 2002 that flooded the weaving and finishing departments, which had themselves only just been refurbished. The real advantage of the factory is its location on the river Schwarzwasser, which supplies the water that is essential for the finishing process. But the river was also its undoing as it inundated all the production facilities. Nothing could be done: Everybody pitched in and did their best to minimise the damage which ran into millions. A tour de force successfully mastered by the Curt Bauer team.
The company’s portfolio currently comprises more than just table linen. High-quality classical bed linen that guarantees a good night’s sleep is popular in Germany and abroad. For more than 100 years, the name Bauer has been synonymous with fabulous designs and the highest standards in terms of product lifespan. But Curt Bauer GmbH isn’t resting on its laurels: “The current fashion is for bathrooms joined directly to the bedroom as well as a matching product range.” The company’s new lifestyle concept follows this trend, combining traditional bed and table linen with blankets, matching towels, eye masks, dressing gowns and neck rolls. Textiles such as serviettes, ecclesiastical textiles or head rests for business class flights round off the product range.

Not at all old-fashioned
“Unfortunately, textiles have now become low-cost products. The concept of quality has been forgotten in the textile industry. Having said that, our products are durable and of high quality so they don’t wear out so easily,” Michael Bauer points out. “What’s more, the textile industry has to get rid of its old-fashioned image. It has nothing in common with the industry it was 25 years ago.” This is obvious at Curt Bauer GmbH, especially with the company’s new line of technical fabrics. The weaving machines in Aue produce covers for car boots to such a degree of precision, that even the openings for the rails that are inserted later can be woven into the covers. The high-quality machines can even cope with polyester. This is the main focus of new developments. For example,
the company is currently refining a new fabric with incorporated ducts for air or cables. “In future, textiles like this will replace metal. Just imagine the energy that can be saved,” Michael Bauer is enthusiastic about this new branch of the business. Overall, he is very positive about the future: Over 60% of the company’s products are exported and this figure is likely to grow. The major markets are Europe, the Gulf States, North America, the Far East, Russia and West Africa. The products are sold directly ex-works as well as by a travelling sales team at Curt Bauer GmbH and
through the company’s own offices, for example in Shanghai. For many years now the company has focused on training and recruiting in-house as a way of retaining skilled personnel and securing workplaces at the plant in the heart of the Ore Mountains. As a “native of Aue”, this is something that Michael Bauer wants to maintain. As an appointed ambassador of the Ore Mountains, he always takes a folder with glossy pictures of his home in Saxony with him wherever he goes, ready to convince foreign business partners of the beauty of this mountainous landscape.

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