Life as an Artist in Berlin Mona Charaf Eddine
written on 20th May 2025, Berlin
Today is the 20th of May. I am writing this from my apartment, which faces the north side, so even though the sun is in its most beautiful form during midday, I can’t catch the idea of sunlight in my typical and overpriced one-bedroom apartment in Berlin. In winter, I will have been here for five years. Honestly, enough time spent in a city that offers more dark days than bright opportunities.
Days here look similar. Part-time jobs to survive, in between a coffee, watching a movie to keep my art spirit alive, writing on eventual scenes to create, taking a few photographs with my phone - but most importantly, saving all the money I can to escape the city everybody so dearly wants to visit.
All around the year, the city offers great independent or institutional exhibitions that can broaden one’s inspirations and ambitions. I enjoy some days here. I get to meet interesting people from all over the world and listen to how they got here, how they like to drink their coffee, what they do for work. Oftentimes, I wonder what I am lacking in terms of art career, to not catch the same opportunities as others here have.
I remember being invited to an invite-only exhibition by an artist who had travelled the world, sponsored by a major brand, now showcasing all the great moments they had captured along the way. I was truly shocked. On one hand, by how the artworks were presented — but that’s a matter of taste; everyone values different things. On the other hand, I was struck by how people used the exhibition as a gateway for their own social media performance, posing in front of the artist’s work while ignoring its composition and craft, just to look as good as possible for their own moment of gaze.
I understand, we live in a time of Instagram. And maybe the saddest part is this: the recognition those people receive by taking their pictures, instead of documenting the artist’s work, might actually give the artist the exposure they need to thrive in their independent career.
I think the reality is that ordinary artists can’t grasp the idea of joining the so-called art cults Berlin’s subculture has formed. Maybe it’s not about talent here. I don’t think it’s about money or background either. After all these years, I’ve come to believe that belonging in Berlin isn’t measured by your work, but by how fluently you move through certain social rituals — who you know, how you dress, how present you are in the city’s nightlife. And I might just be really bad at this. But luckily, by choice. If success depends on being embedded in this scene — on knowing the right people, blending into certain aesthetics, or aligning with Berlin’s nightlife and its substances — then I’d rather keep my distance and stay out of those cults.
Probably I am missing out on opportunities that could make my path easier, and this is also why others decide to just blend in and follow those kinds of rituals. But to me, this would be the death of art. Those factors just indicate one thing; how good can you hide your authentic identity to blend into the one image necessary to obtain the typical Berlin image?
It made me understand why people from other cities are so fascinated by the idea of Berlin. The image, the style, the myth. Probably this is just the steam created from the necessity to be part of something, and it naturally reaches every eye.
But one good thing is, the art scene is not limited here. So just as the closed society exists, there are many self-organised communities who embrace individuality and give room to people who remained unheard. You just need to dig really deep to find them and get access.
So maybe moving to Berlin was not so much about the city or becoming a successful artist here. In retrospect, it was a place that gave me the space to look behind the scenes and choose how I want to build my career and stories. After all, art remains a mirror, reflecting not just the society, but the originality and repetition.
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