TROUBL

We walked down Franklin Ave, passing a slew of bars, trendy coffee shops, and people dressed in tight, 80’s like denim—Hipster, USA aka Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Bert Esenherz came in, an iced coffee in hand. He explained his addiction and tardiness in a semi-thick German accent. A couple of blocks down, after being told of a party at his favorite local pub via a yell across the street, we went into an artist’s warehouse. Bert walked us to another huge space, with a beautiful view of the NY skyline, East River and all. Broken into two rooms, a logical construction of beer cans—Blue Ribbon and Coors–lined perfectly on white paper tarp was in one, and seemingly infinite rolls of canvas were in the other. This one had blue walls, a lot more aesthetic than the white walls of the former, and black spray painted stenciling decorated it. He offered us a seat in a blue painted couch, the same blue of his walls, a mean between sky and navy. Wide, white and black graffiti-like paint strokes were all over it. It was an old beat up couch he told us. And it didn’t match. He sat down opposite of us in a basic brown chair, crossing his legs like a southern gentleman and raking the 5:00 p.m. shadow on his face.

TR: The first day you arrived, what made you come?
Bert: I’m born in East Berlin and when I moved to the West. I mean, I didn’t move from there, I escaped the East. When you are political against the government in the East, you are under the radar anyway, you know. And after awhile, the Secret Police approach you and make your life miserable.

TR: How did the Secret Police react to your art?
Bert: I had been doing art but not much political stuff. Landscapes and things like that. But, I figured out very soon that everything was fucked up in Berlin. I was going to illegal meetings. One day somebody said I should ask to flee the country. Before the Wall came down, they cleaned out the eastern part of Germany, trying to get out all the opportune people.

Pulling a little red lighter out his blue and paint stained jeans, he said, “I’m German. I can open a beer with everything,” after seeing the struggle with the Modello Especial, he offered earlier. Bert sat back in repose, flossing his old-school black plastic watch, commonly found as a prize in a cereal box, all of us laughing. Eventually, he came to New York in 1990. He took a nice and lengthy stroll from 64th Street to downtown on the eastside, passing the Lower East and the Village. He was taken by the flashing lights and the lifestyle, which was similar to Berlin. He recalled walking across the Brooklyn Bridge into Dumbo, telling us, “Dumbo at this time was really fucked up, I mean, really fucked up, you know. But, artists lived there already.” It was a deli, an underground loft, so to speak, about three stoops down, where artists would meet. He began flying from Berlin to New York frequently, building his network with each trip, even with his terrible English at that time. Bert made the decision to permanently move in 1998.

TR: We looked at your bio and your influence was graffiti. What was the graffiti like in Berlin?
Bert: It was always more New York style. Afrika Bambaataa. Zulu Nation, you know. That kind of style, but just copies. What I had done was make a stencil. It says beton, b-e-t-o-n spelled. It means concrete in German. There was a government building, gray looking, fucking government building. I sprayed the word concret on it, beton.

TR: Was that your first graffiti art on that public building when you put beton?
Bert: I just chose public buildings everywhere. It was my signature. Then I make my initials just like a tag, you know. HE first, you know, then I put the E in front, EHEZ, then I made just EHZ, you know.

TR: When you say concrete give us some more depth into it, what does it describe to you?
Bert: It’s like gray, cold, boring material. Like the government. They don’t wake up, not flexible enough. You had graffiti in Berlin everywhere. There were so many great artists living there, you can spend a little money on someone to give them the work, to design. Doesn’t have to be graffiti. It could be painting, anything, just do something with it.

TR: What did you recognize in art and graffiti in other people to even influence them to tear down the Wall? How did art influence that?
Bert: Other people have always been inspired by graffiti 100 percent. When you were young, you went into bars and everybody knew you. But, Berlin was also a little bit different because when tourists came, especially from the U.S., you know, they wanted to spray on the Wall. But, it wasn’t quite that easy. The Wall itself belonged to the East. They protected the Wall. But, the West never did. There was so much amazing art on that side. People came just to read the messages on the Wall. It was like a mirror of the political situation. The graffiti was American style, just like the music. After Punk was out, it got mixed up with the Skinheads. I hated them, fucking violent people. So, I turned my back on Punk. Until a new style came from America and went into the London Underground, you know, Afrika Bambaataa. It got really popular in the 80’s.

TR: The first time you traveled to New York, how did you feel about the graffiti art here compared to Germany?
Bert: I always had luck. I came here with my outlined cartoons. And then I sprayed it somewhere. And soon a graffiti artist here in New York, Slone, one of the leading graffiti guys in Zulu Nation. We had done shows together so they accepted me. Here, artists always, really accepted each other. In Germany, everything was more about competition. I wasn’t competing with anyone anyway. But, here, if you put a master work out, no one would ever spray over it. In Germany, you would have to do it over and over. They were just destroying other works.

TR: Are the artists now, especially your work, affecting those issues?
Bert: Anyone who is not blind can see what’s going on here. I don’t know how many thousands of cameras around. It affects the way the artists behave in a higher instance. For sure it takes a toll on the art too. I mean, there’s no limit to art unless you’re supporting war or destruction or racism, then it’s bad. But, everything should be always open. There should be no restriction at all. It’s not that fun to live in New York anymore. It doesn’t feel free. Everything has mellowed out. Especially since people who have money are moving into the neighborhoods. People are paying that money to have a quiet neighborhood. Most people are struggling now, because of the money moving in.

TR: How do you want to impact the changing city for the future?
Bert: That’s what I’m already doing with the studio [East Coast Aliens]. We are putting money right back to the artists. We never charge them anything. So, that’s my contribution. Public art, making it accessible to everyone. There’s no commercial interest behind that, just giving back to the art. I think the most important thing in New York City is to keep the art alive. Art is always the driving force in the political thinking of the people. From the very first beginning on to now, art is always a tool to make political statements. Whatever you do, if you just do a beautiful flower or you’re knitting something, but the beautiful flower or knitting placed, I mean, arranged to a certain thing could be a political statement.

TR: What about the name, East Coast Aliens?
Bert: I made a DVD about me. I call it the east coast alien because I’m the alien, you know. Eric [a friend] liked the idea. So, we formed a company called East Coast Aliens because he is from France. He’s an alien and I’m an alien. And plus I walked across America with a large painting, 5×6 or 7 feet. It took me 93 days to get to Colorado. That’s how I learned what America is about if you are not on the east or west coasts. That’s why everyone in New York is somehow an alien. Because they’re different. New Yorkers are all special. Everyone is so close to each other. They are forced to live a life of integration. If they can’t integrate, they are going to hate it; they’re going to suffer a heart attack one day or they are leaving. Every New Yorker, for me, is an alien. They’re not behaving like Americans. They behave like New Yorkers, you know. People who don’t blend in. They’re just different.