Fersch at his small 'office' on the beach on the island of Spiekeroog. Photos: Sina Schuldt/dpa
Visitors to a beach on the North Sea island of Spiekeroog in Germany may have been surprised at the sight of a formally dressed man sitting on a desk on the sand.Flanked by shelves and a filing cabinet, with a stack of papers flapping in the breeze, Albrecht Fersch set up an office each day that closely resembled that of a German public authority.
After all, it was decked out with a hole puncher, pen holders, a typewriter and dozens of stamps. No wonder his desk also had a subtle sign saying "Employee of the Month".
But this is Spiekeroog, a German island popular among holidaymakers, where people splash in the waves and seagulls swoop overhead.
Naturally, Fersch's desk raised questions. Each morning, a small crowd formed as he straightened his files and sorted his in-tray.
"Are you a registrar?" one woman asked Fresch, who was wearing a dark suit and tie, and sweating slightly in the early heat of the day.
"I'm a beach registrar," Fersch replies with a quick play on the words that sound similar in German. "But I've already married five couples, even though I'm not authorised to do so and don't even have the right form."
In Germany, famed for its sprawling bureaucracy, this caused some confusion, even consternation among the beach-goers.
A small crowd forming as Fersch straightened his files and sorted his in-tray.
Fersch is a performance artist and set up the beach desk to bring together the separate realities of the working world and holiday destination on this beach.
"As an artist, I deal with reality. What does reality look like and why is it like this at all?" says Fersch, in a quieter moment as the people crowding around his desk settle down a little.
His performance goes beyond the sense or nonsense of bureaucracy. We rarely explore the really important questions in life, says Fresch.
To counteract this state of affairs, Fersch created his own forms for people to fill out – more than two dozen of them – inviting them to reflect and address these neglected areas of their lives.
There's the "happiness and enjoyment" form to calculate your "happiness coefficient" according to the "happiness formatting law".
Is that even possible? "What are your desires?", "What are you feeling at the moment?" are among the questions on the official-looking form.
Fersch (left) talking to tourist Grunau. Photo: Marco Rauch/dpa
"These are questions that you don't really see on forms," says Fersch. "I want to ask important questions and what people are really asking themselves. People on holiday are in such a good mood that they get involved."
His project is funded by a grant offered by Spiekeroog to an artist each year.
The campsite residency programme supports art projects in public spaces that address social or ecological issues.
"We look for themes that also have a connection to the island," says Ruben Franz, who is part of the island's resort administration.
Some 80 artists send in applications each year and are assessed by a small jury of islanders, artists and scientists.
The campsite, which is located in the dunes around three kilometres from the island village, serves as a retreat and place of inspiration for the artists.
Sculptor and co-initiator of the project Hannes Helmke is sure that staying in a tent connects artists much more strongly to the island than any flat or holiday home would do.
Fersch sitting in front of his tent at a campsite on the North Sea island of Spiekeroog. Photo: Marco Rauch/dpa
"It's a deliberate imposition," says Helmke. "It's just part of cultural life."
Whether people find the art appealing or stupid, at least they think and talk about it.
"That's fantastic," says Helmke.
Holidaymakers generally appreciate Fersch's work. His little office seems "antiquated" and not very digital – not unlike those that can still be found in Germany's public agencies, one might say – but it is functional, says Jurgen Konig, himself a civil servant at a state authority in Saxony, here on holiday.
"It's totally absurd, but I like the humour," says Konig, after picking up a form from the desk.
Of his own job, working for a state authority as a bureaucrat, he says there are elements of fun there, too.
"A lot of the work is serious, but it's easier if you approach things with a sense of humour," says Konig.
Fersch at his desk behind numerous stamps.
The response to his beach-based desk is very varied, according to Fersch. Each day out in the sand is different.
"Many people think it's something real."
Some imagine he is a pastor, a real estate agent or the island mayor. Quite a few beach visitors play along with the performance, sit down at a desk and fill out a form, whether it's to calculate their "Sacrifice and Manpower Consumption Coefficient" or your "Coefficient of Happiness Content in Life".
"What do we do with the heat planning?" he asks, sounding serious.
"You'll have to ask the Federal Office. My heat planning has been fulfilled today in any case," says Fersch and looks at the sun. "I'll give you a number and call when it's your turn."
Fersch has since moved off the beach and on to further projects, including art auctions to support disadvantaged young people, or performances with musical instruments pulled together from disparate items such as a typewriter, a cheese-grater and a stainless steel spatula.
He has also built outsize spiderwebs to cross rivers, a bottle piano and created a concert by operating remote-controlled cars and tubular bells.
His works vary by setting and space. But many of his concerns are recurring, with a focus on exploration, connection, discovery and creating or revealing relationships.
Meanwhile some of his beach bureaucrat forms are still providing food for thought for visitors asking themselves in the winter months, "What are my desires?" or "What am I feeling at the moment?" – dpa
