Jürgen Raap The Pulheim Castling I. Castling in chess is a tactical maneuver. If the king and rook have not yet moved, they can exchange places, each moving to a square adjacent to the other's starting square: the king takes the square next to the rook, and the rook moves to the square next to the king. This type of castling is advisable when you want to bring the rook into play more effectively in the center of the board while simultaneously removing the king from immediate danger. It disrupts the opponent's flow of play, forcing them to make different moves than they might have originally planned. When Christian Hasucha titles his latest artistic intervention in public urban space "Pulheimer Rochade" (Pulheim Castling), it is, first and foremost, a title that sounds poetic. It suggests a specific chess move that has gone down in history as a standard tactic, like the legendary "Shepherd's Move." The squares in the districts of Pulheim represent standard situations. Their appearance is familiar to passersby who frequent them daily; because once an urban (re)design is completed, its fundamental appearance rarely changes. A fairly comprehensive standardization is evident, particularly in the "furnishings," as the paving, greenery, benches, and rows of bollards - intended to prevent drivers from parking illegally - are found in many similar squares elsewhere, reflecting the prevailing aesthetic of the time. The town of Pulheim comprises several districts, some of which are quite far apart; for example, it's 4 km from Pulheim to Stommeln. Brauweiler, with its abbey, is another such district. In the squares of Pulheim and Brauweiler, Christian Hasucha selected a 25-square-meter area each, which, along with its paving, white parking line markings, and "furnishings" such as wastebaskets and leaning posts, will be completely replaced. A section of the bollard row from Brauweiler will thus be transplanted to Pulheim, and conversely, a section of picket fence from Pulheim will be placed in the resulting bollard gap in Brauweiler. The implanted sections of the fence and the grid markings appear dysfunctional in their new location; the relocation proves to be a disruptive maneuver, and the new situation has an absurd quality. Thus, foreign bodies, in the truest sense of the word, have been inserted into the functional system of the square; they are alien here precisely because they so obviously do not belong and because there could be no rationally comprehensible reason why they suddenly appear. They disrupt and alienate a familiar image. As an artistic construct, they therefore render the entire system of the square aesthetically unstable. This aesthetic instability is most evident in the paving, which in Brauweiler consists of basalt in the shape of traditional cobblestones while in Pulheim Square it is made of a modern concrete composite material with a completely different ground plan for each individual stone. The difference between natural stone and industrial building block alone already marks a contrast. However, what is essential to the character of this intervention is the artistic insistence on exactitude and authenticity: The selected section was measured using a method employed in archaeology and the preservation of archaeological monuments. Each individual stone was marked before being replaced in order to lay the paving in the other location "exactly as before," i.e., authentically. This results in parallel identities that are identical only in their ground plan. The relocation thus occurs as a parallel displacement, in which each piece remains precisely aligned with its cardinal direction. Of course, this authenticity is somewhat diminished when the square sections are implanted in the other location like 1:1 models. Although the selected locations themselves and their furnishings are relatively anonymous (they are certainly not the "favorite spots" of individual or communal users), they aesthetically "block" themselves from the original structure of these spaces and from the still unchanged immediate surroundings through the specific nature of the artistic intervention. The metaphor of castling is relevant here insofar as not all the pieces are exchanged; nevertheless, chess castling is a massive intervention in the original arrangement of the pieces. The Pulheim Castling blurs the lines between the meanings of picket fences as a feature of garden or green space design and bollards as a matter of road traffic engineering: Both fundamentally serve a barrier function, but in different spheres of life where "normally" no one would consider installing bollards instead of a fence at the edge of their garden. From a purely "technical" perspective, the barrier for motorists on the Brauweiler square also works with the 5-meter-long section of picket fence, but Hasucha's intervention represents a deliberate violation of established conventions of square design. The picket fence suggests something rural and idyllic, while the bollard is a means of traffic control within urban mobility. At the edge of the Pulheim square, the fence is justified in protecting a green space, but not in Brauweiler as a boundary between the square and the roadway. The fence seals off, while the row of bollards is permeable. The bollards, with their barrier function, are intended to simultaneously maintain a free movement space for others, for pedestrians and cyclists. The immovable fence, however, demands that everyone respect the symbolic insurmountability of the boundary it represents. Thus, the 5-meter-long section of picket fence at this location is highly anachronistic. It does not offer passersby the same walkable spaces as the bollards previously existed here, but neither does it provide the complete enclosure that is otherwise customary, since one can walk around this short section. II. In the old city centers, the squares still possess a more or less distinctly perceptible historical aura. This arises from their original function, which in many cases has only recently been rediscovered (e.g., as a marketplace), from their dimensions, and often also from the appearance of the buildings that frame these squares. The entire ensemble thus forms an urban-aesthetic unity. The artist Stefan Wewerka once made a theoretical distinction - concerning the Land Art and installation concepts of the 1960s and 70s - between "Environment" as a designed surrounding space and "Open Space" as a site of action-oriented, process-oriented activity. In this respect, the squares of Baroque cities and palaces, in particular, possessed a fundamental openness, extending the view perspectively into avenues and panoramically into adjacent parklands. In a sense, they symbolized a system of order in which both a divine and a secular principle of rule were visualized, and in which a conception of universality was also reflected. In the bourgeois cities of the 19th century, this was copied under different ideological auspices; within the rapid economic, demographic, and thus also urban growth processes, the manageability of public space acquired a different psychological significance. The Parisian boulevards (from *boule*, meaning cannonball) were originally parade grounds for the military in the 19th century; and the squares from which they branched off were central assembly points for the army, which fanned out from here in all directions to defend the city limits. But then these squares and boulevards were conquered by flaneurs, becoming once again stages for self-promoters and voyeurs, as they had been in the Baroque era. Emile Zola described how this ritual of strolling, of showing oneself off and observing, was also practiced in small towns in southern France on Sundays around the turn of the 20th century. There, where there was little or no tree cover, the privilege of frequenting the shady side of the streets and squares was reserved for the dignitaries, while the common people were relegated to the sunny side. In the recent history of urban planning, a parallel development can be observed between the structural fragmentation of squares for car lanes, based on the now obsolete ideas of a "car-friendly" city, on the one hand, and the pedestrian zones, which began to be created in the late 1950s, on the other. In the cities of the 1980s and 1990s, these were supplemented by covered shopping arcades. In a sense, these zones and arcades now represent the open spaces that squares once offered as communicative forums; as meeting places where not only market goods were exchanged but also political matters were negotiated (justice was once administered in central squares). But in reality, these postmodern zones and arcades are artificially staged worlds that, while intended to convey the authenticity of the old promenades and bazaars in contemporary design, ultimately fail to do so. Similarly, the current "event-cultural" revitalization of squares often has only a folkloric character. True urbanization of such places fails because urban planning clings to an urban ideal in which such squares were indeed culminating points in the staging and demonstration of social status. A variant of this, during totalitarian times, involved martial takeovers through mass mobilization. The model of the Mediterranean piazza inspires contemporary urban architects, although urban mobility generally results in the congestion and occupation of public spaces dictated solely by the desire to run necessary errands or reach places like cinemas as quickly and efficiently as possible - that is, via the shortest route. Almost always, a parking garage or underground parking facility adjoins such squares and zones. However, these parking options are perceived as too inconvenient. Motorists prefer above-ground parking, from which they must then be deterred by those bollards that - placed in neat rows - are meant to enforce order (or rather, the officially defined will to order), their uniformity not unlike a row of pawns in a chess game or a guard of soldiers. Hasucha's intervention addresses the power of disposal over public spaces in a multifaceted way. A symbolic and real conquest, exclusion (bans for undesirable persons as a form of public order enforcement), the social concentration of communicative and economic activity, the prescribed and enforced limits, the distinctiveness of local identity and patterns of consciousness, and the traffic-logistical management of pedestrian flows, etc., are all closely interwoven as political, cultural, psychological, and sociological phenomena. What can be artistically extracted from this complexity is always only multifaceted and exemplary. The limitation of the Pulheim Castling to an area of two 5 x 5 meters is not only for practical reasons, but also represents a conscious rejection of the principle of totality. III. In Christian Hasucha's work, interventions in everyday public spaces often employ the method of collage. Fragments are juxtaposed; their heterogeneity works against the aesthetic-urban unity described above. These fragments are accessible and usable, yet as an artistic principle, they challenge the utilitarian economy that typically dominates everyday practice. In their intention to irritate, they deliberately offer no permanent reassurance regarding the correctness of knowledge, the rationally comprehensible course of events, or the world itself. Hasucha achieved a change in perception with his previous interventions, for example, through elevated platforms as a viewing platform (a change of perspective in a double sense), or by means of "gaze gates" through which perception was directed to specific sections. Stereoscopy, a perceptual physiological phenomenon, was employed repeatedly in these interventions. The parallel gaze of both eyes represents a different kind of parallel identity, which only arises through the processing of the brain. The quality of a perception is defined by its integration into existing knowledge. This knowledge is disrupted in the Pulheim Castling. Even when artists realize their concepts of "art in public space" in close consultation with the relevant authorities, they generally counteract the existing situation, disrupt it, and open it up. Anything else would simply be mere decoration (as is, of course, the case with fountains and other handcrafted art installations found in many places). With Hasucha, the constitution of an altered situation is not merely material; it also manifests itself as an assertion. The often temporary interventions in the living spaces of others are expressions of opinion that dissipate after a few weeks and thus do not become occupations aimed at permanent incorporation. Whether Hasucha erected a wall with openings in the form of letters spelling out the word "JETZT" ("NOW") in the courtyard of a housing complex in Cologne-Weidenpesch (1995), or prompted an individual to briefly illuminate this inscription on the roof of a house at freely chosen intervals (1990), or whether he participated in the Pulheim Castling, where two small worlds of civil engineering are interchanged: Visually perceptible information is always presented as a form of declaration. This can spark discussions and create a sculpture in the minds of the viewers. Hasucha's artistic strategy, however, does not follow the entirely different strategies that were subsumed under the slogans "Art as a Social Process" and "Ideal Art" in the 1970s. Urban structures are semiotic channels of information: As signs, they offer spatial orientation. Their respective "typical" shapes indicate their purpose as wastebaskets or bicycle racks. The architectural form and appearance of buildings reveal their age or luxury, and often, even without signage, what takes place there. A church, a hotel, a warehouse, and a farmhouse stand as clearly distinguishable architectural markers. The restoration of old cobblestones is a sign of an effort to reconnect with the square's former appearance, and also a sign of an ecologically conscious rejection of sealing the soil with asphalt - rainwater can penetrate the ground between the cobblestones and disperse more effectively. It is clear that even a 25-square-meter section of a square contains a wealth of such information. This symbolic nature is not eliminated in Hasucha's castling; rather, the meaning of the signs remains recognizable, only they may no longer make logical sense in a different location - like the four bollards in a spot where their placement would be superfluous. It's as if you were to swap two sentences between two different texts: each sentence remains grammatically correct, thus remaining readable, and still makes a meaningful statement in itself, only this statement doesn't fit into a different context. Similarly, Hasucha's sculpturally interventionist assertions are, with a certain paradox, logically correct and simultaneously absurd; they relativize themselves spatially and temporally, and it is completely irrelevant whether they are immediately and universally recognized as art or not. In places like the two Rochade squares, Hasucha consistently refrains from providing explanatory signage. In some of his other projects, participants sometimes require information as a guide, which then "automatically" provides further explanations. When the initial situation is restored after the end of an intervention or action, one might think that the world's structure has been realigned. Regained familiarity brings relief, which is easily understood anthropologically. While humans are creatures of curiosity, they would be overwhelmed and subjected to constant stress if they had to process nothing but new stimuli at every moment of their lives, stimuli for which there are no existing experiences or memories to which they can be integrated. Instead, they feel relieved when, for example, after a few days in a completely unfamiliar city, they have learned to find their way around, when they have at least begun to grasp the city's structure (with their prior knowledge of the basic urban system proving helpful); and they feel more secure when they have learned enough vocabulary in a completely foreign language to manage at least basic everyday communication with waiters and taxi drivers. Humans feel more secure when they have learned enough vocabulary in a completely foreign language to manage everyday communication with waiters and taxi drivers. In the Pulheim relocation project, this is concentrated on "only" 25 square meters each, but by examining the relocated sections, even what remains unchanged gains a distinctness, and thus the incidental acquires a significance. Cf. Project documentation No. 34: Pulheim Castling