However accurate, the notion that Berlin’s heart bleeds art, not money, is a prerequisite for maintaining the city’s perceived distance from the art market—and, consequently, its authenticity. In the hierarchy-averse scene that Berlin still purports to maintain, authenticity is code for information; the authentic artist … is defined by her ability to navigate the scene that money can’t buy. Ironically, this proves to be highly marketable. The appearance of authenticity enables artists and critics to achieve positions of influence in the art world.
Has Berlin passed the point of no return? Have it’s bohemian spaces been fully colonized by art-market concerns, or are there still pockets of freedom and resistance in the city?