This gives a deep insight
The journey began in 2016 at a funeral in the Sauerland region, Claudia Grabowski's original home. It was a cold November day in Nachrodt-Wiblingwerde. After the funeral, Grabowski reflected on transience, life and death. The group gathered in front of the "Schöne Aussicht" inn. It's located diagonally across from the cemetery, overlooking a gravel parking lot. Beautiful view? Grabowski grinned in the face of all the gloom. "I like contradictions and the bizarre," says the photographer.
Initially by chance, she stumbled upon other places with the evocative name. The panorama: construction fences, paved intersections, abandoned climbing frames, drawn blinds. The contrast fascinated her, and Grabowski began to specifically search for Germany's "beautiful views." Grabowski, born in 1981, now lives in Bremen and works as a press officer. She devotes her free time to photography, so on her way to visit friends in other cities, she took detours along country roads, photographing signs and rest stops.
Over the course of nine years, Grabowski discovered 75 "beautiful views" across Germany: guesthouses, inns, campsites, restaurants, hotels, cafes, and allotments. Often abandoned or closed. The images tell a story about Germany's provincial countryside.
Once upon a time, there was beauty: where once a good view beckoned...
... in Wathlingen (Lower Saxony) you now see desolate asphalt.
Steinach, Baden-Württemberg.
The search for the “views” took photographer Claudia Grabowski 8,000 kilometers, crisscrossing Germany.
End of game: Overnight stay with a view of...
... an abandoned climbing frame in Wettenberg-Launsbach, Giessen district.
The address of this hotel on the Masserberg in the Thuringian Forest is:
At the Beautiful View 3.
A privacy screen is useful to prevent restaurant guests from looking too closely.
And so the gray plastic backdrop in Hallenberg am Rothaargebirge fires the imagination. What might be hidden behind it?
On the outskirts of Wolfsburg, the name is, for once, still a program:
Two linden trees frame the view of fields.
"In Welsh, there is the word 'Hiraeth,' which describes a mixture of homesickness, nostalgia, and longing for something irretrievably lost." A feeling that stayed with the photographer during her travels through Germany.
An abandoned guesthouse in Drolshagen, Sauerland. Birthdays, confirmations, and silver wedding anniversaries were once celebrated here.
With the restaurants, places of remembrance also die.
"My heart belongs to the provinces," says Claudia Grabowski. "I grew up where hair salons are called 'Haarmonie' and the Schützenfest is still a major event."
The pub used to be the social hub of the village. It was a place where people argued, celebrated, and mourned. Friendships and marriages were formed between the bar and the dance floor, and the regulars' table served as a forum for news, long before social media. For many, the pub was a second living room. A hybrid space between intimacy and publicity, between freedom and commitment. You knew who was coming and who was leaving, and you could always find a neighbor to chat with. "Seeing the desolate remains of once vibrant meeting places awakens a certain melancholy in me, because with the pubs, a sense of community dies," says Grabowski.
What happens to places when their social function diminishes? How do we use space? And what remains of pub culture? Claudia Grabowski's photos are also intended to inspire reflection on the changes taking place in rural areas. She says: "The views aren't always beautiful, but they are harmonious."
süeddeutsche
