I have before me, the bound set of NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC for 1937. Note the year.

Vol. LXXXI, No.2, February, 1937, has an article titled: CHANGING BERLIN, by Douglas Chandler. Here is a picture of a mass gymnastic display with the caption.:

TO DEVELOP BOYS AND GIRLS IN BODY AND MIND, AND THUS ENSURE A STURDY RACE TO DEFEND GERMANY IN THE FUTURE, IS A POLICY OF THE PRESENT GOVERNMENT. [p.140]

"With magnificent gusto they bend and twist, flexing muscles in unison with the rhythmic counting of physical instructors." [p.155]

The "omnipresent swastika" is ever present, notes the author, but from what I can gather, not a murmer of criticism is made of the New Germany of Herr Hitler. In fact the whole article is bathed in rather glowing praise. For example, we are told:

"Modernism is not aggressively present today in modern painting and sculpture. The windows of the moderate-price art shops are filled with decorative prints and paintings largely designed to please the conventional taste. Scenes portraying fecund grainfields, mountain peaks piercing the upper ether, animal pictures, flower studies, predominate."

We are not told, how aggressively Modernism was repressed. I presume that Washington D.C. at this point in time, wished to present a positive picture of the New Germany to the American people. If we press the fast forward button to the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC of 1947, a mere 10 years later, we find a very different Berlin. And we all know what happened in those 10 years between.

The author meets a "silver-haired lady" on the plane to Berlin who remarks:

"You'll find our city in a state of transformation, "...The pompous old archetectural forms are vanishing. I'm a native Berliner, but I don't deplore the change. In fact, I'm happy to see the New Age evolving a style of realistic beauty in keeping with today's practical trends." [p.137]

What caught my attention, is her use of the term New Age.

Samten
email: samtendw@libero.it
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Faith is an ever-widening pool of clarity, fed with springs beyond the margin of consciousness. We all know more than we know we know.
Thornton Wilder, The Eighth Day.