A Life Jacket
Portrayal and Memory

• Text zum Nachlesen

  The Life Jacket about Itself

  I am a life jacket. Essentially, I assist people in staying afloat in the water – but depending on the situation, I can also „save“ them.

  There are various sizes of my kind – I am suitable for small children. But only once was I actually worn by a small child, for no more than half an hour – yet for me, understandably, it was the most crucial of all half hours.

  We embarked on a rather small boat that kept filling up, far too crowded, and then crossed the river „Maritsa“, „Meriç“, as it is called on the Turkish side, over to the Greek side, where it is called „Evros“ – whatever it‘s called, it‘s a dangerous river. Many have drowned in it.

  Our escape ended well, and the child and its mother soon found the father again. I thought I would soon be discarded – but I am still with them today. I believe because I remind them of it all. The fears they had, but also the joy of having successfully fled and now „standing at the threshold of a new and hopeful life“. That‘s how my owner described it when she loaned me to the museum.

  Zusatzinfos

  Due to political persecution, the owner of this life jacket fled from Turkey in 2016, crossing the Turkish-Greek border river Meriç or Evros, to Germany, together with her child. Crossing the river is an alternative route to the Mediterranean route. Her husband had already left the country earlier. They reunited on German Unity Day.

  Andreas Achenbach‘s „Sailing Boats on Stormy Sea“ to the Life Jacket

  I am an oil painting by Andreas Achenbach, depicting this dangerous situation at sea since 1894. And I depict it without being dangerous myself. I can do that because I am a painting, an artwork that many may find exciting or even beautiful – with all the movement, the waves, the great force you see here...

  Often, I‘ve also thought about the unknown fishermen in the storm-tossed boat. They‘re probably not thinking about art right now. They are at the mercy of the elements, experiencing something dangerous. There‘s nothing less than their lives at stake.

  Now, dear life jacket, with your story in mind, I am once again reminded that the fishermen I depict are just painted figures and not real people. And I wonder: How do I affect real people, living people who have actually survived such dangers? Painfully? Or do I perhaps remind them of the luck they had?

  What would you say, can you imagine such danger?
  Or what memories do you associate with coasts, rough waters, and the sea?
  How do I affect you when you look at me?