Map: Potsdamer Platz & Kulturforum Area
The Kulturforum, with its collection of various museums, libraries, and concert halls, rivals Museum Island as Berlin’s cultural heart. Established after many of the city’s artistic treasures were lost behind the Wall, the Kulturforum’s modernist buildings were mostly erected in the 1960s. Today, its collections pick up where those of Museum Island leave off, covering art from the late Middle Ages to the present.
The main sight here is the Gemäldegalerie—a world-class collection of European paintings that ranks alongside great museums anywhere. Here you’ll see works by Rembrandt, Dürer, Vermeer, Rubens, and others. There aren’t a lot of “must-see” iconic paintings, but visitors with some background in art will find many that are instantly recognizable.
The Kulturforum’s next-best sight is the Decorative Arts Museum, a breezy look at an assortment of beautiful objects through the ages. You’ll see jeweled medieval reliquaries, elegant Louis XIV furniture, and a parade of ladies’ dresses that even lowbrow tourists find interesting.
The complex is also home to the Musical Instruments Museum, the Berlin Philharmonic’s concert hall, and the Mies van der Rohe-designed New National Gallery (closed for renovation).
(See “Potsdamer Platz & Kulturforum Area” map, here.)
Combo-Ticket: Each Kulturforum museum has a separate ticket (listed below). If you’re visiting at least two of the museums, get the €12 combo-ticket, which covers all the museums listed here (can cost more if a special exhibit is on, www.kulturforum-berlin.de).
When to Go: The museums are rarely crowded—anytime works well.
Getting There: The Kulturforum is a 10-minute walk from Potsdamer Platz: Ride the S-Bahn or U-Bahn to Potsdamer Platz, walk west along Potsdamer Strasse, then turn right on Scharounstrasse to enter the heart of the complex. (On your way from Potsdamer Platz to the Kulturforum, consider detouring into the Sony Center—it’s right on the way.) It’s efficient to combine your Kulturforum visit with my 
Fascism and Cold War Walk).
From Zoologischer Garten or Alexanderplatz, take bus #200 to the Philharmonie stop (a very slow trip during rush hour.)
Gemäldegalerie: €10, Tue-Fri 10:00-18:00, Thu until 20:00, Sat-Sun 11:00-18:00, closed Mon, Matthäikirchplatz 4, tel. 030/266-424-242, www.smb.museum.
Museum of Decorative Arts: €8, Tue-Fri 10:00-18:00, Sat-Sun 11:00-18:00, closed Mon, Herbert-von-Karajan-Strasse 10, tel. 030/266-424-242, www.smb.museum/kgm.
Musical Instruments Museum: €6, Tue-Fri 9:00-17:00, Thu until 20:00, Sat-Sun 10:00-17:00, closed Mon, low-profile white building east of the big yellow Berlin Philharmonic concert hall (easy to miss entrance is down Ben-Gurion-Strasse, facing the back of the Sony Center), tel. 030/2548-1178, www.sim.spk-berlin.de.
New National Gallery: Closed for years-long renovation; for the latest, consult www.smb.museum.
Berlin Philharmonic: You can visit the concert hall with a guided one-hour tour in English (€5, daily at 13:30 except none July-Aug, same-day tickets sold at 12:00 at the artists’ entrance—facing the busy road and the park). Popular, free lunch concerts are held in the lobby most Tuesdays at 13:00 (none July-Aug; tickets available same-day only—try to arrive by 12:00). Box office open Mon-Fri 15:00-18:00, Sat-Sun 11:00-14:00 except closed July-Aug, tel. 030/2548-8999—answered daily 9:00-18:00, July-Aug until 16:00, www.berliner-philharmoniker.de).
Getting Oriented: Locate the Kulturforum’s various buildings by first finding the green steeple of the St. Matthaus Church. Just to the left and beyond the church is the glass-walled New National Gallery. Panning to the right of the church, you find the low-lying, sprawling Gemäldegalerie—this area’s highlight. Further right is the cubical Museum of Decorative Arts. Then comes the golden, angular Philharmonic concert hall. Behind the concert hall (not really visible from here) is the Musical Instruments Museum (entered from Ben-Gurion-Strasse).
Tours: Each museum has a good, free audioguide; for insights beyond my tour, pick one up as you enter.
Services: You’ll find free lockers and a cloakroom at the Gemäldegalerie.
Cuisine Art/Eateries: The Gemäldegalerie has a decent $$ cafeteria/salad bar (upstairs, cash only); otherwise, you’ll find touristy eateries a 10-minute walk away, around Potsdamer Platz and the Sony Center.
Starring: European masters, musical instruments, glittering treasury items, and women’s fashion through the ages.
(See “Gemäldegalerie Tour” map, here.)
The Gemäldegalerie—literally the “Painting Gallery”—is Germany’s top collection of 13th- to 18th-century European paintings (more than 1,400 canvases). They’re beautifully displayed on one vast floor in a building that’s a work of art in itself. Virtually every major European artist has at least one quality work, and connoisseurs could spend days here. The focus here is on Northern art, especially German (Holbein, Cranach, and Dürer) and Dutch (Rembrandt and Vermeer), with a few Italians and others thrown in.
This “top dozen-or-so highlights tour” will get you started. I’ve selected artists and paintings that are famous, unique, and fairly easy to find in this sprawling museum. But you’ll walk past many more fine paintings in the Gemäldegalerie’s extensive collection. To go beyond my choices, make ample use of the excellent included audioguide.
When you buy your ticket, pick up the current museum map to help you locate specific paintings (which can move around; be flexible). Northern Art is on one side (where we’ll begin) and Italian art is on the other (where we’ll end).
Note that inner rooms have Roman numerals (I, II, III), while adjacent outer rooms use Arabic numerals (1, 2, 3). We’ll work counterclockwise (and roughly chronologically) through the collection.
• From the entrance, turn right through Rooms I and II, then turn right again into Room 1 (not Room I—got it?).
The German paintings that fill Rooms 1-4 and I-III are a snapshot of Germany in the early 1500s. The many portraits of middle-class businessmen and town burghers are a testament to Germany’s booming trade and craftsmanship. In those days, the austere Protestant Reformation was brewing, and there are few bubbly paintings of Madonnas and saints. Artistically, the style is realistic and down to earth. Colors are dark, and there’s a meticulous attention to detail. Many depicted items are symbolic, with meanings passed down since medieval times.
Typical of German painting of the period is work by Hans Holbein. Holbein’s sober, unvarnished portraits chronicle the movers and shakers of the early 1500s, from Martin Luther to Erasmus to Henry VIII.
Holbein’s portrait Merchant Georg Gisze (Der Kaufmann Georg Gisze, 1532) depicts a wealthy 34-year-old German businessman. Gisze glances up from his work in his Hanseatic branch office in London. His black beret and immaculate clothes mark him as a successful dealer in cloth. Around him are the tools of his trade—logbooks, business letters with wax seals, signet rings, scales, and coins. The Turkish tablecloth and Venetian-glass vase remind us of Gisze’s cosmopolitan tastes.
Holbein adds another layer of complexity to this seemingly straightforward portrait. Typical of detail-rich Northern European art, the canvas is bursting with highly symbolic tidbits. To the left, on the wall, is the motto Nulla sine merore voluptas (“No joy without sorrow”), a hint that Gisze’s success has been hard-won. The clock (on the table, inside the small gold canister) reminds the viewer that time passes and worldly success fades. The unbalanced scales over his shoulder suggest that wealth is fleeting. Those negative symbols are counterbalanced by the hopeful image of the carnations and herbs in the vase, representing Gisze’s upcoming marriage and his eternal devotion to his betrothed bride.
But the overwhelming impression Holbein leaves is not of medieval symbolism but of a flesh-and-blood human being. Renaissance humanism was alive in Europe, and Holbein was celebrating the glory and intrinsic beauty of an individual human being. As the artist himself wrote (in the white plaque above Gisze’s head): “What you see here—this picture—shows Georg’s features and figure. These are his eyes, this is his profile, just as they are in real life.”
• In Room 2 are works by...
In 1494, the young Dürer traveled from Germany to Italy, where he soaked up the technique and spirit of the burgeoning Renaissance movement. Dürer returned home and melded Italian harmony and classical grandeur with a Northern European attention to detail.
In his portrait Hieronymus Holzschuher (1526), Dürer captured the personality of a white-bearded friend from Nürnberg, right down to the sly twinkle in his sidelong glance. Technically the portrait is perfection: Look closely and see each individual hair of the man’s beard and fur coat. Dürer does not gloss over the 57-year-old’s unflattering features like the wrinkles or receding hairline (with the clever comb-over). Dürer, trained as a meticulous engraver, could even capture the tiny reflection of the studio’s windows in the man’s eyes. Also notice Dürer’s little pyramid-shaped, D-inside-A signature. Signing one’s work was a revolutionary assertion of Dürer’s renown at a time when German artists were considered anonymous craftsmen.
Painted the same year and the same size, the portrait Jakob Muffel may be a companion piece. It depicts the mayor of Nürnberg (another friend of Dürer’s) in a straightforward way, against a neutral background. We see the man’s wrinkles, duck-billed nose, and prominent cranial bones. Muffel has a blank, calm expression, as though lost in thought. His high forehead reinforces the “high-mindedness” of this incorruptible public servant.
• To get to our next stop, head through Rooms 3 and 4, turn left into Room IV, then left again into Room III. (Confused yet?) Room III has some large-scale works by...
Cranach was a court painter for the prince electors of Saxony and a close friend of Martin Luther. He painted solemn portraits of these men. But Cranach also painted religious and mythological subjects.
His Fountain of Youth (Der Jungbrunnen, 1546) depicts the perennial human pursuit of eternal youth. Ladies flock to bathe in the swimming pool of youth. They arrive (on the left) as old women—by wagon, on horseback, carried by men, even in a wheelbarrow. They strip and enter with sagging breasts, frolic awhile in the pool, rinse and repeat, then emerge (on the right) young again. Newly nubile, the women go into a tent to dress up, snog with noblemen in the bushes (right foreground), dance merrily beneath the trees, and dine grandly beneath a landscape of mountains and towers.
• Head back into Room IV to see some masterworks by ...
Netherlandish painters—represented in the next several rooms—were early adopters of oil paint (as opposed to older egg tempera). Its relative ease of handling allowed them to brush the super-fine details for which they became famous.
Rogier van der Weyden was a virtuoso of the new medium. In Portrait of a Young Woman (Bildnis einer jungen Frau, 1440-1445), the subject wears a typical winged bonnet, addressing the viewer directly with her fetching blue eyes. The subjects (especially women) of most portraits of the time look off to one side; some art historians guess that the confident woman shown here is Van der Weyden’s wife.
In the same room is a remarkable, rare trio of three-panel altarpieces by Van der Weyden: The Marienaltar shows the life of the Virgin Mary; the Johannesaltar narrates the life of John the Baptist—his birth, baptizing of Christ (with God and the Holy Spirit hovering overhead), and gruesome death by decapitation; and the Middelburger altar tells the story of the Nativity. Savor the fine details in each panel of these altarpieces.
• Browse through the next several rooms (V-VII, and the adjoining 5-8), with early Flemish artists. Ignore several undeniable masterpieces—by the likes of Van Eyck, Bruegel, and Bosch—as you keep going to our next stop, Room VIII.
Here in Room VIII (and adjoining rooms) are works by Rubens. We’ve fast-forwarded a hundred years, and it’s apparent how much the Protestant Reformation changed the tenor of Northern European art. Rubens’ paintings represent the Catholic response, the Counter-Reformation.
You’ll see huge, brightly colored canvases of Mary, alongside angels, bishops, and venerated saints (like the arrow-pierced martyr, St. Sebastian). This exuberant Baroque style trumpeted the greatness of the Catholic Church. The Church had serious competition for the hearts and minds of its congregants. Exciting art like this became a way to keep people in the pews. Notice the quivering brushstrokes and almost too-bright colors.
You’ll also see fleshy nudes and mythological scenes in the Italian tradition, such as Perseus Freeing Andromeda (Perseus befreit Andromeda, c. 1622, next to St. Sebastian). Rubens painted for wealthy Catholic nobles who were schooled in the classical imagery and sensual nudes of Renaissance art.
Finally, find a portrait of Rubens’ first wife, the noble-looking Isabella Brandt. You may also see glimpses of Rubens’ second wife, Helene Fourment, in mythological scenes such as Andromeda (1638). Helene, the amply-figured nymph with a sweetly smiling face, came to define the phrase “Ruben-esque.”
• Continue through a few more rooms to the museum’s far-right corner, Room 13. You’ll have to refocus your eyes from Rubens’ huge colorful canvases to the tiny, dark slices-of-life of Dutch art.
Dutch painters captured convivial portraits of everyday folk during Holland’s Golden Age of sea-trading prosperity.
Hals’ Portrait of Catharina Hooft with Her Nurse (Bildnis der Catharina Hooft mit ihrer Amme, 1619-1620) presents a startlingly self-possessed baby (the newest member of a wealthy merchant family), dressed in the lacy, jeweled finery of a queen and clutching a golden rattle. The smiling nurse supporting the tyke offers her a piece of fruit, whose blush of red perfectly matches the nanny’s apple-fresh cheeks. By the way, baby Catharina would grow up to marry the mayor of Amsterdam.
At the other end of the social spectrum is Hals’ Malle Babbe (1633-1635). The subject, a notorious barfly nicknamed “Crazy” Babbe, was well known in Hals’ hometown. Hals captures her in a snapshot from the local pub, hefting her pewter beer stein and turning to laugh at a joke. The messy brushstrokes that define her collar and cap are as wild and lively as her over-the-top personality. The bird perched on Babbe’s shoulder was a sign to everyone that she was (as they used to say) “drunk as an owl.”
• Continue counterclockwise to Room 16 and the large, adjoining Room X.
The ultimate Dutch master, Rembrandt was propelled to fame in his lifetime by his powers of perception and invention. His style—dark brown canvases highlighted by a few brightly lit details—is moody and dramatic.
Browse these rooms to get a taste of the range of Rembrandt’s work. There are storytelling scenes, taut with pulse-racing emotion. In The Rape of Persephone (1631, Room 16), Pluto grabs Persephone from his chariot and races toward the underworld, while other goddesses cling to her robe, trying to save her. Cast against a nearly black background, the almost overexposed, action-packed scene is shockingly expressive.
There are Bible scenes: In Samson and Delilah (1628-1629, Room 16), Delilah cradles Samson’s head in her lap while silently signaling to a goon to shear Samson’s hair, the secret to his strength. The larger-scale Samson Threatens His Father-in-Law (Samson bedroht seinen Schwiegervater, 1635, Room X) captures the moment just after the mighty Samson (with his flowing hair, elegant robes, and shaking fist) has been told by his wife’s father to take a hike. I wouldn’t want to cross this guy.
You may see the famous Man with the Golden Helmet (Der Mann mit dem Goldhelm, 1650-1655, Room 16). This is probably not by Rembrandt, but it shows how his style was so mimicked by followers that it’s sprouted a cottage industry of art scholars trying to authenticate Rembrandt paintings.
In Room X, a Self-Portrait (1634) shows Rembrandt wearing a beret. The 28-year-old genius was already famous. He soon married the beautiful Saskia (Portrait of Saskia, 1643, Room 16), and seemed to have it all. But then Saskia died, Rembrandt declared bankruptcy, his painting style went out of fashion, and he moved in with his young housekeeper, Hendrickje Stoffels (depicted in Young Girl in an Open Door/Junge Frau am geöffneter Tür, 1656-1657)...all of which contributed to his brooding, dark canvases.
• Continue counterclockwise a couple of rooms, to Room 18.
Today, Vermeer is just as admired as Rembrandt, though he was little known in his day, probably because he painted relatively few works for a small circle of Delft collectors. Vermeer was a master at conveying a complicated story through a deceptively simple scene with a few significant details—whether a woman reading a letter at a window, a milkmaid pouring milk from a pitcher into a bowl, or a woman with a pearl necklace.
Though not as famous as Girl with the Pearl Earring (which inspired a novel), Young Woman with a Pearl Necklace (Junge Dame mit Perlenhalsband, 1664) is classic Vermeer. He lets us glimpse an intimate, unguarded moment in the life of an everyday woman. She wears a beautiful yellow coat with an ermine fur lining, ribbons in her hair, and pearl earrings. As she completes her toilette, adjusting her necklace with the ribbon ties, she pauses for a moment. What catches her attention? It’s as though a thought bubble hangs in the empty space between her and the mirror—the center of the composition.
This painting has many signature elements of Vermeer’s style. Two colors dominate: the yellow of her jacket and the ultramarine blue of the bunched-up tablecloth (Vermeer liberally used this blue pigment, despite its being made from incredibly expensive powdered lapis lazuli). The scene is lit from a window at left, creating a soft, diffuse atmosphere. Vermeer tells us a bit about the woman with objects on the table: her comb, make-up brush, and water bowl.
Who is this young woman? Vermeer painted her on other occasions, and she may be the woman who became his wife.
Vermeer’s The Glass of Wine (Das Glas Wein, 1661) lets us glimpse a racier subject. A young man offers a drink to a young lady. Her elegantly dressed seducer has been playing his lute (which now sits, discarded, on a chair) and is hoping to seal the deal with some alcohol. The woman is finishing one glass of wine, and her suitor stands ready—almost too ready—to pour her another. His sly smirk hints at his hopes for what will come next. Vermeer has perfectly captured the exact moment of “Will she or won’t she?” The painter offers some clues—the coat of arms in the window depicts a woman holding onto the reins of a horse, staying in control—but ultimately, only he (and the couple) know how this scene will end.
• Continuing counterclockwise, turn the corner into the South Wing, and skip ahead to Room XIV, where our tour concludes.
The South Wing is dedicated primarily to art from Italy (with a smattering from France and Spain). We’ll focus on just one artist, whose sensational originality turned the Italian art world on its head.
In the year 1600, living in Rome, Caravaggio burst onto the scene with a new and shocking art style. He populated his canvases with everyday people drawn directly from life, set in a dark background and lit by a harsh, dramatic, unflattering light. (Remember Rembrandt? Well, Rembrandt sure remembered Caravaggio.) Even religious and allegorical subjects got his uncompromising, gritty, ultrarealistic treatment.
In Caravaggio’s Amor Vincit Omnia (Amor als Sieger, 1601-1602), “Love Conquers All.” Cupid stands victorious over all the vain accomplishments of ambitious men: Military triumphs (symbolized by the fallen armor), Art (the discarded musical instruments), Literature (paper and pen), Science (a globe), Grand Architecture (compass and square), and Power (the crown). Cupid—a young, naked boy—mocks those grown-up ambitions. He laughs derisively and splays his genitals over the fallen symbols. This Cupid was Caravaggio’s favorite male model, fitted with obviously fake stage-prop wings. The photorealistic style broke the fourth wall of illusion in what should be a high-falutin’ allegorical painting. A secular-minded noble bought the painting and made it the showpiece of his collection.
For the next phase of Caravaggio’s story, turn your attention to a painting in Room XIV by a different artist—Giovanni Baglione’s Sacred and Profane Love (Der himmlische Amor besiegt den irdischen Amor, 1602-1603).
Baglione was hired by the secular noble’s brother—a conservative cardinal—to paint a moralizing response. Here, the main figure is a more upright incarnation of love—Sacred Love—embodied by a radiant angel. He corners his rascally counterpart, the cowering and “Profane” little Cupid (lower right). This breaks up the illicit tryst between Profane Love and the Devil (lower left). Baglione was satirizing Caravaggio’s rude painting and also satirizing Caravaggio’s groundbreaking style of dark/light contrasts.
The plot thickens. When Caravaggio saw Baglione’s satire, he was furious. Baglione began spreading rumors that Caravaggio was sodomizing young boys. Baglione even painted a second version of this painting, with Caravaggio himself as the Devil. Caravaggio responded with dirty limericks about Baglione’s own sex life, charged that he’d plagiarized his unique style (true), and harshly critiqued Baglione’s “clumsy” work. Baglione successfully sued Caravaggio for libel, sending the young genius to jail for a few weeks.
Caravaggio’s star began to fall. He became increasingly quick-tempered, killed a man in a street fight, spent years as an outlaw, and eventually died of a knife wound. After Caravaggio’s death, his bad-boy reputation was cemented by his first biographer—none other than Baglione.
• The rest of the South Wing features lesser-known works by great Italian Renaissance painters. Check out several Raphael Madonnas (Room 29), Titian’s Venus and the Organ Player (Room XVI), and much, much more.
With displays covering a thousand years of applied arts—porcelain, fine Jugendstil furniture, Art Deco, and reliquaries—the huge space of the Museum of Decorative Arts (Kunstgewerbemuseum) will delight some and bore others. But everyone will love one display: an impressive collection of clothing (mostly women’s) through the ages.
Entering the museum, pick up the free map and get oriented—you’re on the “Mode/Foyer/Entrance” level. Go downstairs to the “Alte Kunst/Ground Floor” level, do a U-turn, and head for the door marked Mittelalter. You’ll step into Room I.
The more than 40 gleaming gold, silver, and bejeweled objects in Room I are known as the Guelph Treasure. Ranging in date from the 8th to 15th centuries, most are reliquaries, which once held reminders of long-dead saints—a piece of bone, a bicuspid, a shred of clothing, or a sliver of their walking stick. By standing in the presence of such remains, housed in gloriously decorated reliquaries, medieval Christians experienced awe and a closer connection to their saints. For centuries, they were venerated by medieval pilgrims in the Cathedral of Braunschweig, a town 150 miles west of Berlin, ruled by the Guelph family.
Start (in the center of the room) with the most treasured of the Treasure, the Dome Reliquary (Kuppelreliquar). It’s shaped like a tiny jeweled church (18 inches tall), topped with a dome. This magnificent container, created c. 1175 by artists in Cologne, once housed the skull of brainy St. Gregory the Theologian (c. 329-390), whose writings helped define the mystery of the Trinity. The saint’s remains were brought from his resting spot in Constantinople to Germany by a Guelph Crusader. The domed reliquary may have been modeled after Jerusalem’s famed Dome of the Rock Church, which the Crusaders were bent on liberating from Muslim control.
Admire the beauty and workmanship of the Dome Reliquary. Its wood core is covered with gilded copper, and the dome is plated with colorful enamels of blue, green, and red, traced with intertwining vines. The church rests on four crouching griffins of gilt bronze, and is topped with a globe of gold filigree. Ringing the base of the dome are 13 majestic figures on thrones carved from walrus-tusk ivory—the 12 Apostles plus Christ. Each has a different hairstyle, beard, and robe, and each holds an identifying attribute: Peter, for example (at Christ’s right hand), holds his keys to the kingdom of heaven. The lower part of the reliquary has more carved ivory saints and four intricately carved scenes of the Crucifixion, the women at Christ’s tomb, the Holy Family, and the Three Magi. Though small and stiff, these scenes are the infancy of what would grow into Renaissance realism.
Browse other reliquaries of the Guelph Treasure in this room. Some are shaped like arms (to hold the arm bone of a saint); others are busts, crosses, or boxes. Some have a transparent rock-crystal receptacle where you can actually see the relic inside. All are magnificently gilded, silvered, enameled, jeweled, and pearled. Is the security guard eyeing you a little too closely? Well, the total value of the Guelph collection in this room has been estimated at €250 million.
• To see more treasure, face the Dome Reliquary, turn right and follow Rundgang signs on a counterclockwise loop.
First up, in Room II, are Renaissance tapestries and porcelain from southern Europe. Then comes Room III, with still more finely crafted Renaissance wonders from northern Europe, including a cache of silver from the civic treasury in Lüneburg. Look for two charming hand-washing pots—one in the shape of a lion, the other an elephant. They’re both marvels of beauty and function. Lift either by the tail, and water pours out its mouth. These were prized pieces of tableware in the messy days before silverware was introduced.
• Circle back to the foyer and head upstairs to the “Mode/Entrance” level. Enter the series of rooms devoted to...
These rooms trace ladies’ fashions from 1845 to 2000. (Earlier fashions, from 1700-1845, are found on the upper floor.) Altogether about 130 costumes (and nearly as many accessories) are presented in chronological order and accompanied by bits of historical context that make fashion seem more fascinating than fickle, even to the style-challenged (we know who we are). In a long, dark hallway, you’ll walk past Victorian-era dresses with narrow waists and floor-length hemlines, including elegant ballgowns. There’s a peek at ladies’ undergarments—hoop skirts, corsets, padded bras, and bustles (for the bootylicious Victorian)—that accentuated the shape of the dress in order to reflect the era’s ideal body type. Continuing through history, you’ll see slinky and shapeless 1920s-era flapper dresses, 1940s business suits, 1960s miniskirts and hot pants, 1970s women’s-libber pantsuits and short skirts, and late-century designer labels such as Yves Saint Laurent, Chanel, and Versace.
• Continue upstairs to the Neue Kunst/Upper Floor level and turn left through the door marked Renaissance bis Barock for a look at...
Heaven’s garage sale might look like this: room after room of exquisitely beautiful handmade objects. Browse through elegant Delftware porcelain, Versailles-era furniture, “Kunstkammer” curiosity chests, ceremonial beer steins, and Tiffany lamps and carved-wood furniture from the Art Nouveau (Jugendstil) era.
The Musical Instruments Museum (Musikinstrumenten Museum) fills a striking hall with 600 exhibits, spanning the 16th century to modern times. This place is fascinating if you’re into pianos. Highlights include a pre-piano keyboard (the Bach Cembalo), Stradivarius violins, venerable church organs, Frederick the Great’s flute, a silent-movie-era Wurlitzer organ, electric guitars, and 20th-century synthesizers—once cutting-edge, now museum pieces. Wander among old keyboard instruments and funny-looking tubas. Pick up the included audioguide and free English brochure at the entry. In addition to the English commentary, the audioguide lets you listen to various instruments being played; while the musical snippets are beautiful, there are too few of them.
The New National Gallery (Neue Nationalgalerie)—currently closed for a lengthy renovation—features 20th-century art, with ever-changing special exhibits. The building, which opened in 1968, was the last commission completed by esteemed architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.
Poke into the lobby of the yellow, pentagonal-shaped Berlin Philharmonic concert hall and see if there are tickets available for performances during your stay (for more on ticketing, see here). The hall is famous for its extraordinary acoustics. Even from the outside, this is a remarkable building, designed by a nautical engineer to look like a ship—notice how different it appears from each angle.
Immediately north of the Philharmonic, facing the park, was the building where the Nazis administered a campaign of what they called “euthanasia” against mentally and physically disabled people. The long blue wall between the parking lot and Tiergartenstrasse is the Memorial to the Victims of Nazi “Euthanasia.” (For details, see here.)