Inverted Collar & Tie: Sculpture 2 (Frankfurt)

CLAES, COOSJE & ME

a travelogue, a rendezvous, and a critique

Sculpture:        Inverted Collar and Tie

Where:             Frankfurt am Main, Germany

Installed:         1994

Visited:            June 30, 2019

Met:                 Germans

Blog Entry:      2nd, July 26, 2019

Barb, Maddy and I had spent three weeks with 18-year-old students from Palos Verdes Peninsula High School, starting in the hip city and crisp fjord-air of Oslo, to cosmopolitan London, to the Medieval Legoland of Brugge, to the mansard roofs of Paris and on to All the Light We Cannot See St. Malo. From there we biked on country roads to a wine chateau near Bordeaux, carried on niksun-style to the beaches of San Sebastian, toured the titanium-clad Guggenheim in Bilboa, admired the ancient glow of the university town of Salamanca, before finishing in the blue tile beauty of Porto and Lisbon. It was a fantastic trip, but we all were spent and ready to go home–to Palos Verdes for them, Redondo Beach for us and San Francisco for Maddy.

But as we descended into Frankfurt from Lisbon for our connection, I leaned over Barb, catching a glimpse of the skyline, and mumbled to her, “Right down there is Inverted Collar and Tie, and if I had a fancy zoom lens I could capture it.” Little did I know, in a few hours, I would see it.

Lufthansa Flight 450 was over-booked, euros offered, and after a brief discussion, Barb — ever-the-saint — decided Maddy and I should take the offer; she’d go back with the students. We’d be tourists for one more day, and a giddy tingle energized me–which was a good thing considering it was 101 degrees in Frankfurt. We would taxi-in on the hottest day of the year.

There was a snafu with the money refund that delayed us a few hours, but fortunately, Cordula — great name, I must say — who worked at Lufthansa, not only apologized and assured us it would be rectified, but gave us great city-to-do suggestions: find the river, walk the river, eat and drink by the river. But first we would find the ClaesCoo sculpture.

We checked in to our hotel, and our taxi driver autobahned it in. At first he was confused when I showed him my google maps with ‘Krawatte’ marked. But he was mulling it over, because halfway there, he said, “Ahh, the tie sculpture! Now I know.” No one had ever asked to be dropped off there. Claes Oldenburg sculptures, by and large, are not well known. And yet he is the most famous living Pop Art artist.

He dropped us off on the backside, we turned the corner, and there it was. I was prepared to be underwhelmed for two reasons: pictures I’d seen did not make it ‘pop,’ and surely the skyscrapers hovering directly above would mute the effect.

I was happily wrong, and that surprise morphed into revelation the more we walked around it and took pictures. Some of these are Maddy’s pics.

It was a Sunday evening, and this financial section of Frankfurt was deserted. That rewards the photographer; Also, I couldn’t resist hoisting myself up on the base.

When you look up from the ground, you see the crown of the DZ Bank, or rather the Westendstrasse, which is the third tallest high rise in Frankfurt. It so resembled Minneapolis’ 2nd tallest building, The Capella (both built in early 1990s, both 52-55 floors high) that I was sure they were built by the same architect–but I was wrong. (While The Capella has an official nickname The Halo, my fiends and I think it looks like a giant Stanley Cup). I found out later that Westendstrasse1’s crown points to the Cathedral, a mile away which witnessed numerous emperor coronations.

My favorite camera shots — iPhone, sorry — were the low angle shots framing the tie against the Westendstrasse. In these, the sculpture appeared. as an abstract art piece, flying irreverently amongst the 1990s-style of sleek geometric modernism. A straight on, mid-distance shot, however, reveals a counter aspect: one of blending in, as the gray and charcoal of the tie match the gray, blue and white of the facade.

Still, the dominant impression of the sculpture is the quality I recognize in all ClaesCoo sculptures: subversion. And wit and reverence, too, I suppose. It’s like a good cover song. My favorite cover versions not only re-interpret but recast the song in a new almost opposing light. Take The Flying Lizards’ 1979 remake of Barrett Strong’s “Money (That’s What I Want).” The child/brat and beyond-the-dead vocals backed by cold, electronic trash can rhythms contrast brilliantly with John Lennon’s impassioned vocals–The Beatles version is the famous one, young’uns. Or The Raincoats (alos ’79) version of The Kinks’ “Lola” and how it turns gender inside out. The best ClaesCoo sculptures upend expectations this way. All the business peeps flowing past this sculpture better hang on to their ties.

From the sculpture, Maddy and I cut through the financial district to find the river. After an unfortunate slice through the red light district– “pick up the pace, Maddy”– and a glance around, I started to remember that some acquaintances said Frankfurt was on the dull side or “neither exceptional nor unexceptional” one said. But then we reached the river and it all changed, and I realized why the city is called Frankfurt am Main.

It just so happened that the Iron Man European Championships were happening at the river and excitement rued the riverside. Tents, pop up cafes, swans. Also, runners were collapsing, and ambulances heard. With the heat, it was a bit surreal. The course re-routed us and we crossed over to the other side, turned back and the skyline was spectacular. Look for yourself.

That’s Sir Norman Foster’s Commerzbank Tower on the right, but over 30 new high rise buildings are going up, including Bjarke Ingels Group: BIG’s Omniturm with shifting middle floor plates that gives it the appearance of swaying in the breeze. By all accounts, Frankfurt am Main, the fifth largest city in Germany, is poised to be the financial hub of Europe. Investors like the walkable scale of the city and as we crossed back over we noticed the modern blurring with neoclassical and medieval structures. That juxtaposition is always my favorite of European cities.

We found the finish line in the Altstadt, and people were cheering. Night was falling, the heat still purposeful, but a festive spirit persisted.

At 11:30 we found an eatery in the night shadow of the Domplatz. It was called Wirsthaus am Huhnermarkt, and we sat outside and gazed at the fairytale facade seen below.

I was too drained to eat, so I had a dunkel halb liter and Maddy–holding up much better than me — had a Reisling. The waitress, also exceedingly exhausted from the busy day, was impressively friendly. All the Frankfurters were that way. A few tables down, a 60-year old man wearing a jersey stood up and his legs gave out. His friends helped him up. My mind shifted. Even though I had not run, biked or swam, I was sweating, and these clothes I would have to wear on tomorrrow’s 11-hour flight home.

Fortunately we found the finish-line shirt booth, and I bought a t-shirt. Today, when I wear my shirt people ask how it was. “It was great,” I say. “It was 100 degrees.” And in my broken German–I studied for two years in college–I say, “Es hat Spass gemacht und ich habe viel gelernt” (It was fun and I learned a lot.)

Wryly but truly,

The Literary Vagabond