Quarry at the Schinkenkeller

Kirchhundem-Silberg (51.027320 | 8.025985)

Transformation

Small former quarry overgrown with moss.

Ulrike Wesely normally speaks at twice the speed. As a cultural manager, she has to organize a lot and convince people of projects, hence the gallop of the tongue. But at a meeting about naming possible soul places, she promoted the quarry near Silberg by doing exactly the opposite. She spoke very slowly, saying only a few sentences, with long pauses in between. It must have sounded something like this: "Hidden in the forest... Mysterious with a narrow entrance... There is a great silence... Spring, summer, fall and winter - the place changes its face each time... The people there become quieter, very quiet... They slow down too... They hear nature speaking to them..." None of those present had heard of the mysterious quarry before. But the performance had been so impressive and the place had become so present that the decision was unanimous: it was chosen.

This morning, Ulrike Wesely slows down again to give me the opportunity to take notes. She wants me to relive how she staged the quarry last year under the title "Enchanted". We walk uphill out of the village, leave the built world behind us and enter the world of the forest. At a fork in the path, Wesely points to a tree stump: "Look at the woman with the green cloak... That's the storyteller... A fairy tale from ancient times..." Her description is so vivid and fantastic that the woman actually appears to me.

A little later, she points to a clearing off the path. A tall lady with blonde wavy hair and a long blue dress steps out from between the trees and plays the violin. The soft forest floor becomes a stage. The classical melodies seem exotic as they now find their way to our ears between resinous trunks, escaping the tuxedo-and-evening-dress ambience of stiff concert evenings, threading their way into the symphony of songbirds, squeaking branches and bush drums. I can hear it all as if it were happening right now.

The guard stands at the entrance to the quarry. Black cloak, serious face. The conversations of those entering fall silent. In some parts of the basin, the rocky walls are steep and forbidding. In others, they rise gently, like an invitation to venture up and explore them. In the middle is a pond with dark brown water. Its surface is strewn with withered leaves from the previous year, its depth indefinable. Does it form a heart? Or a crescent moon? Everyone's imagination decides for themselves.

Scattered behind young fir trees and dead trunks are musicians. Bells, cymbals and singing bowls are struck, weaving a carpet of sound that seems to float through the quarry. The narrator appears once again. And then the main character of the day: silence.

From the enchanted back to the now. I stand with Ulrike Wesely by the black pond, and after she has described the production to me so vividly and euphoniously, we fall into silence in wordless agreement. I look around again with fresh eyes. Dark water, bright green leaves on the branches, mossy stone blocks, gnarled tree trunks that seem to make wrinkled faces at me. And then the question: does a place like this even need to be staged? Isn't it enough to look, listen and let your mind wander a little, and everyone creates their own scenario? Castle for hollen and dwarves. High ropes course for dancing fairies. A retreat for rare animal species never before seen by humans. Scene of the last battle between Indians and white settlers. Opera house for silent concerts for daffodils and woodruff.

At the same time, I admire how Wesely coaxes out and enhances the poetic potential of this place with just a few, careful interventions. She sets accents, transforming the quarry into a concert hall, storytelling room and forest cinema. And when everyone goes home, no traces are left behind. The place belongs to itself again. Quiet, enchanted, a hidden question mark. Ready for the next fantasy outbreak, by whomever.

Author: Michael Gleich