Spied on by the state security, Christiane Seefeld withstood political harassment and for years opened her studio apartment to all those who did not conform to the heteronormative social image of the GDR. From secret work groups and singing rehearsals on the roof to New Years parties for three pieces of cole: what began as a weekly coffee round became one of the most important institutions of queer political and artistic work in East Berlin and laid the foundation for what is now Sonntagsclub. Christiane Seefeld still lives in the neighborhood.

Christiane Seefeld [00:00:07] Yes, my name is Christiane Seefeld. My stage name is Momo.

Cathrine Welly [00:00:18] I am Catherine Welly and I am an old friend of Christiane's.

Donat Blum [00:00:26] My name is Donat Blum and I am currently living in Christiane Seefeld's former apartment.

Christiane Seefeld [00:00:45] I asked my brother why he is always sad and he said he can't get to know a man. I asked: why? I didn't understand what he meant by “a man.” Until he explained it to me correctly. And then I said, “Well, don't you have a place where you can meet?” “Yes, there is one on Schönhauser Allee called a flap.” “Yes, what is a flap?” “Well, a toilet.” But he didn't want to go there — it stinks. Well then I made one of my flyer campaigns again — distributed nicely: Westkaffee is served every Sunday from 4 pm to 6 pm, because my daughter came at 7 pm, so they all had to get out there again. I didn't even know if I was inviting the right men! And you don't believe it! There were 25 people there on the first day. They had spread the word about that right away. Oh, I was so happy. And I'm not sure now whether they came for the men or for my West-style coffee. I don't know, but I do think the men pulled. That was such a great success and then I thought: Do something for women in small rounds too! Back then, as they say today, I was a heterosexual. I had no idea about it. Until I fell in love with a woman and we were together for quite a long time — seven years. But then she moverd over to West-Berlin. Here, quite beautiful times have taken place.

Cathrine Welly [00:02:17] I had a very good experience of the fact that there were no meeting places, except outdoors. And that's why apartments where people would let us in were so popular. And your studio was so famous because it was a huge room, it wasn't an apartment in that sense. Three small apartments have now been built out of it. It was seven meters high, about six, seven meters high.

Christiane Seefeld [00:02:37] So even with slanted windows.

Cathrine Welly [00:02:39] Yes, it is also a historic building. It was from these Skladanowsky brothers back then.

Christiane Seefeld [00:02:44] Who made the first sound film.

Cathrine Welly [00:02:46] So it was always a studio. And a lot of people went in there, of course. And then it happened: in the GDR, everything was closed at midnight. Except for an artist club, where you only came in with a card — the socalled Möwe. Otherwise, everything was closed at 00:00. And when you were sitting in a café or in a pub, the question was: Where are we going now? Yes, who has that much space? And then, of course, you were number one in Prenzlauer Berg.

Christiane Seefeld [00:03:09] Yes, and then there wasn't too much space for people who were not recognized in the GDR as artists or something like that. They were still artists and didn't have the money or the space. Singers even rehearsed up there on the roof! Yes, I could have had that any day. (laughs)

Cathrine Welly [00:03:30] And then you also did cabaret, really with a performance. And politically too, of course. And the best thing she did was a New Year's Eve party: you had to bring three coals and a candle as an entrance because: seven flights of stairs. Who is carrying the coals up there? That huge room! How do you get it warm?

Christiane Seefeld [00:03:45] I still have one of those invitation cards.

Cathrine Welly [00:03:46] There is an invitation card and it really says New Year's Eve party and a candle and three coals. Well, and then, of course, there were coals up there. (laughs)

Person reading Stasi report [00:04:13] Excerpts from a Stasi report on negative groups of people: Berlin, 15.01.1985 New Year's Eve party in the studio apartment of Seefeld, Christiane.
Berlin, Prenzlauer Berg, Schönhauser Allee 149, Informer: Unofficial employee “Simnowski”

Cathrine Welly [00:04:24] And of course someone from “Kuck und Horch” (note: Stasi) was always there. Everyone knew that too.

Person reading Stasi report [00:04:26] From 31.12.1984 from around 19:00 to 01.01.1985, around 3:00 a.m., the New Year's Eve party took place in the studio apartment. Around 70 people were present, including around 50 male and around 50 female. The female characters were almost all lesbian friends of Seefeld, who is also a lesbian. The male persons were mostly homosexuals. According to Seefeld, the People's Police were with her a few days earlier. They wanted to forbid the party. However, she did not allow this to be prohibited, because she can do what she wants in her private home. Seefeld hosted the night. The program parts were designed by Michael Reimann, nicknamed “Polen-Micha” and a certain Ulf, nicknamed “Aunt Ulla from America” (homosexual): cabaret-like, pantomime, dance and so on. During his travestite-style dance performances based on classical and folkloric record and piano music, Reimann only wore very tight panties and a fur stole. In addition to the program, Reimann also worked at the bar. The guests had fun in their own way, i.e. cuddling and fingering around as well as dancing with same-sex partners.

Christiane Seefeld [00:05:46] So things like this were organized so that you could just be together and not feel alone. Because that was the case in the GDR that so many people felt alone from the “other bank.” Just like my brother. It was more like family — maybe not completely — but definitely a community. And that we are undisturbed and that the men or women could kiss, for once in a while. It wasn't possible on the street, the men and women who kissed on the dance floor were driven apart. And so were the women. Because it wasn't allowed, it was “abnormal,” it didn't fit into the GDR norm.

Donat Blum [00:06:34] Christiane Seefeld is my previous tenant at Schönhauser Allee 146, on the so-called corner of Schönhauser Allee, in a house on whose roof a studio was built more than 100 years ago — a photo studio with large windows into the sky. But if you lean forward a bit, then down to the intersection of Schönhauser Allee, Eberswalder Straße and Kastanienallee, Pappelallee too. In fact, she organised gatherings in the apartment on Sundays, that's when they met and I don't know exactly what they did, but definitely also danced, among other things. Sometimes the police came too. The police came up a stairwell and because the apartment was also connected to another staircase, people were then able to escape from the police through the other stairwell. Christiane actually continued to live in the area most of the time, now she lives not far away from this apartment in which I now live and she is also referred to as „Kiezmutti“ because she has been very committed to the neighborhood. Seven years ago, the three of us moved into this apartment in a three-way relationship to try out if that would also be a good way of life. So this apartment with its very large rooms has remained a meeting place in which we try out different constellations again and again and try to find out what a loving, happy life could actually be or what that could be like among people who don't want to fit into heteronormative patterns so directly. So how does Christiane's spirit live on here? It lives on in such a way that it was important to her back then that queer people get to know other queer people – so that her gay brother could get to know people – and we actually still do it that way!

Christiane Seefeld [00:08:45] The Sonntagsclub (note: Sunday Club) still exists today. It was already very politically active in GDR times and there were also really great people who were very good at writing and who stood up for our rights. And the Sonntagsclub, which became a Verein (club) after the fall of the Wall. It's on Greifenhagener Strasse, on the corner of Erich-Weinert Strasse. There is a restaurant and there are also lots of offices and there are lots of events and the people who work there on a voluntary basis. We've just celebrated: 50 years of Sonntagsclub, that was so great. I've met a lot of people again that I haven't seen in years and it's always like coming home with the family. Oh, I'm actually satisfied and happy that it all ended humanely. That they didn't get and break down so many people in the GDR. The State Security, I mean, of course, they were always there. Oh, what do I think of that? I wouldn't want to live there anymore. There is no peace and quiet there. (laughs) But otherwise... I've had so many wonderful hours and, of course, sad ones when we were politically active. Oh, I still remember when 40 people start dancing waltzes at 24:00. The whole room! Oh, that was an experience for me. And the many friendships I've made. After all, we've always helped each other. You know? Oh I'm satisfied and happy. We did such great, awesome things to speak in youth language! (laughs)

The Constellations Archive (Link) was established in 2023 as an extension of the "Constellations Festival" in Berlin, organized by Poligonal (Website). It explores vanished queer spaces in the city through artistic interventions, contemporary witness conversations, and archival work. The goal is to make these lost queer spaces visible and reinterpret their history through artistic means. The archive serves as a digital platform for the long-term documentation of the stories collected during the festival. It continues to grow, preserving the memory of marginalized communities.