Our collective imaginings reveal all with which we may prepare for the future. Where potential is bound up with our memories of the past and the white noise of the present, we tread in time like a whiplash that propels us unsteadily forward into our future, just as it snaps us from this future back into our own communal history.

At midnight, on March 13th 1991, a basement door was opened that has remained open to this day. A space was created where this whiplash flicked back and forth in time to a rhythm, building night after night a history that was also a vision of the future. From Jeff Mills’ first sets on three turntables, to the grandiose Tresor Park parties, to various chapters of the Loveparade with Sven Väth in the 90s and since then countless generation-spanning parties, that represented for their visitors the highlights of their personal clubbing experiences. The history of the club was not without complications, including the temporary closure by the authorities in the early years, and several raids, all the way to the closure and demolition of the old location in 2005, the years of wandering in exile and the resurrection in the new location Kraftwerk Berlin.

Celebrating the 28 year history of what lay behind that door is to celebrate a joyous diplopia – a way of feeling connected as much to the history of an institution that brought the youth of East and West together, as to its unexperienced future. An ecstatic vertigo that binds you to the people around you, to those that have danced before and those that will dance in the future. The light at the end of the long Tresor tunnel is a signal. A flicker amidst the dense fog. This is our future. This is our place.

 

history