Intervention / performance
made possible with Help of the Theaterhaus Jena
photography: Markus Bühler and Vincci Ong
Jena, April - June 2018

Part I - monitoring station
metal garage, wood , coniferes, antennas, hammocks, radar, radio device, surveillance cameras, loudspeaker, periscope, flag
6,0 x 6,0 x 8,0m

Teil II - observation vehicle
aluminum, wood, stone grout, caterpillar drive, motors, accumulators, tractor seats
2,3 x 3,0 x 1,6m


Under the guise of a typical German double garage, a monitoring station is constructed overnight. Equipped with an array of instruments on the rooftop—including a periscope, cameras, microphones, smart devices, radar, and radio equipment—this facility records and analyzes the activities of the surrounding environment. Each day, a vehicle disguised as a pile of sand, emitting loud pigeon calls, leaves the garage to conduct inconspicuous observation missions in the neighborhood.

A one-story building has recently appeared near the theater in Jena. It blends into its surroundings so seamlessly that it’s easy to overlook. Yet, something feels amiss. The structure resembles a cross between a double garage and a transformer station or even a research facility. Its spray-plastered façade and flat roof measure six by six meters, with two large shutters on one side and peculiar objects on the roof. Are these antennas? A flag of the Federal Republic of Germany flutters above. Inside, an excited babble of voices can be heard, creating an atmosphere that suggests someone is laboring behind the tin walls late into the night. Who could they be? Gearheads? Small-time gardeners? Terrorists? Glaciologists? The mystery of their presence hangs in the air. Has that charming front yard always been there? This building seems to take on a life of its own.

Suddenly, a strange heap stirs unrest in the city. Numerous residents claim to have spotted a small sandpit moving stealthily through the streets at various times throughout the day.

“He sneaks a few meters, then stops behind the corner of the house as if nothing has happened,” recounts a local resident. Others report hearing loud pigeon calls emanating from the pedestrian zone, seemingly originating from a small mound. What on earth is this heap up to, and why has it chosen Jena as its playground?

In 1998, unusual sounds echoed from another garage on the outskirts of Jena. Inside, two men and a young woman were tinkering with a box that they detonated later that night in front of the city theater—precisely where the strange new building now stands, half surveillance station and half double garage. The box turned out to be a bomb, missing its detonator. When police stormed their garage that year, the bomb makers vanished underground. Under the watchful eyes and peculiar protection of V-agents from the constitutional protection agency, they went on to commit a series of murders against foreigners across Germany in the subsequent years. When their identities were finally revealed, the group became known internationally as the “National Socialist Underground.”

Habbakuk plays with references to suburban Germany and its complex history. While its elements may seem deceptively ordinary, they subvert expectations and provoke critical questions. What else might be unfolding in German basements and garages? What dangers lurk closest to us? Who is clandestinely responsible for our safety? Can we trust them? Should we be wary or thankful? Is our society gradually militarizing? The hypernormal architecture leaves passersby in a state of uncertainty, shrouded in mystery.

Ein einstöckiges Gebäude steht seit kurzem in Jena. Es ist so unscheinbar, fast hätte man es übersehen. Doch irgendetwas stimmt nicht. Das Haus erinnert gleichzeitig an Doppelgarage, Trafohäuschen und Forschungsstation. Spritzputz, Flachdach, sechs mal sechs Meter. Zu einer Seite zwei große Rolltore, auf dem Dach seltsame Objekte. Sind das Antennen? Kopfüber weht die Flagge der Bundesrepublik. Aus dem Inneren dringt aufgeregtes Stimmengewirr, mal scheint es,als würde jemand hinter den Blechwänden bis in die Nacht ohne Unterlass arbeiten. Autoschrauber? Kleingärtner? Terroristen? Glaziologen? Wer sind die und was treiben die da drinnen? Dieses Gebäudescheint zu brüten.

Und dann sorgt in der Stadt auf einmal ein Haufen für Unruhe. Unterschiedliche Leute wollen zu verschiedenen Tageszeiten einen kleinen Sandberg gesehen haben, der sich klammheimlich durch die Stadt bewegt. „Er huscht ein paar Meter, dann bleibt er hinter der Häuserecke stehen, als wäre nichts gewesen.“, meint eine Anwohnerin. Andere berichten  von ohrenbetäubendem Taubengurren in der Fußgängerzone, das von einem kleinen Berg ausgeht. Was um alles inder Welt hat er vor, der Haufen und warum hat er sich gerade Jena ausgesucht?

Habbakuk spielt mit Bezügen in deutsche Vorstädte genauso wie mit Verweisen in ihre jüngste Geschichte. Alle Elemente sind gefährlich gewöhnlich, doch agieren sie gegen jede Erwartung und werfen Fragen auf. Was passiert eigentlich in deutschen Kellern und Garagen? Welche Gefahren bürgt das, was uns am nähsten liegt? Wer sorgt heimlich für meine Sicherheit? Vertraue ich diesen Leuten? Militarisiert sich dieses Land? Die hypernormale Architekturlässt die Passanten bewusst im Unklaren.