Latest / The History of Germany: Kingdoms, War, and Rebuilding Europe — Fexingo History / Bauhaus at Dessau: The School That Redesigned the World
Transcript
- Luna: So the Bauhaus moved to Dessau in 1925. Why Dessau, of all places? Lucas: Good question. After the right-wing takeover in Weimar, the school was essentially forced out. Dessau's mayor, Fritz Hesse, saw an opportunity. He was a Social Democrat, and he wanted to position Dessau as a modern, progressive city. He offered Gropius a new building, full funding, and total creative freedom. It was a bold move for a mid-sized industrial town. Lucas: And Gropius didn't just take the offer — he designed an entire campus from scratch. The Bauhaus building in Dessau is arguably his masterpiece. It's a sprawling complex of glass, steel, and concrete, with a famous glass curtain wall that wraps around the workshop wing. It was unlike anything seen before. Luna: That building is still iconic today. I've seen photos — it looks like it could've been built last decade. Lucas: Exactly. And part of its genius is how it reflects the Bauhaus philosophy. The form follows function — every element serves a purpose. The workshop wing has that huge glass facade to let in maximum light for the craftsmen. The bridge connecting the two wings contains the administrative offices, symbolically linking administration and production. Even the way the buildings are arranged — it's all very intentional. Lucas: The students lived in a five-story dormitory called the Prellerhaus, with tiny rooms but shared balconies and common spaces. It was meant to foster community. And it worked — there was a real sense of collective purpose. Students from all over Europe came to study there. Luna: And the teachers? The Masters' Houses — Gropius designed those too, right? Lucas: He did. Just a few minutes' walk from the main building, he built three semi-detached houses for the faculty — and one detached house for himself. Each one was a modern villa with flat roofs, white walls, large windows. The idea was that the masters would live in an environment that embodied Bauhaus principles. Kandinsky, Klee, Moholy-Nagy — they all lived there. Lucas: But here's the thing: the houses were minimalist to the point of being uncomfortable. Gropius wanted them to be 'machine for living,' but some residents complained about the lack of privacy, the noise, the cold concrete floors. It's a paradox — the Bauhaus vision was about improving life, but their own homes weren't always cozy. Luna: That's fascinating. So the ideal and the reality sometimes clashed. Lucas: Absolutely. And that tension runs through the whole Dessau period. On one hand, the school flourished. They developed new products — like Marcel Breuer's cantilevered tubular steel chair, the Wassily chair, named after Kandinsky. They printed books, held exhibitions, and influenced design worldwide. But on the other hand, there were constant political battles. Lucas: The city council was divided. The conservatives saw the Bauhaus as a den of Bolsheviks and bohemians. They didn't like the international student body, the unconventional teaching methods, the fact that men and women studied together. Gropius had to constantly defend the school's budget and its very existence. Luna: Didn't Gropius leave in 1928? What happened then? Lucas: He stepped down as director, partly from exhaustion, partly because he wanted to focus on his own architecture practice. He appointed Hannes Meyer, a Swiss architect who was a committed Marxist. Meyer pushed the Bauhaus in a more explicitly political direction. He emphasized collective work, low-cost housing, and meeting the needs of the working class. Luna: That sounds like it would have been controversial. Lucas: It was. Meyer's tenure was short — only two years. The city council, now more conservative, accused him of turning the school into a communist cell. He was forced to resign in 1930. And then Mies van der Rohe took over. Lucas: Mies depoliticized the school as much as he could. He tightened the curriculum, focused purely on architecture, and tried to keep the Bauhaus alive by avoiding controversy. But it was too late. The Nazis were gaining power, and they hated the Bauhaus — its internationalism, its modernism, its Jewish faculty. Luna: And that's when the school moved to Berlin, right? Lucas: Yes, in 1932 the Dessau city council, now Nazi-controlled, terminated the school's contract. Mies moved it to Berlin as a private institution. But it only lasted one more year. In 1933, the Gestapo raided the building and effectively shut it down. The faculty dispersed, many into exile. Lucas: If you've been coming along with us through these conversations about Germany — about the Reformation, the wars, the political struggles — you'll have noticed a thread: the tension between innovation and repression. The Bauhaus story is a perfect example. In just seven years in Dessau, a tiny school changed the way we think about design. And yet, it was crushed by the very forces that would soon tear Europe apart. Luna: It's a bittersweet legacy. The ideas survived because the people fled and spread them. Lucas: Exactly. Gropius went to Harvard. Mies went to Chicago. Breuer to New York. They taught a generation of American architects and designers. The Bauhaus didn't die — it just moved. And that's part of why listener support matters for a show like this. We're not sponsored by any big corporation. It's just the two of us, digging into stories like these because we think they're worth telling. If you'd like to help keep this ad-free, you can support us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Every little bit helps us keep researching and putting these episodes together. Luna: And it really does make a difference. We're grateful to everyone who's joined us on this journey. Lucas: Anyway — back to Dessau. One of the most remarkable things about the Bauhaus there was the workshop system. Students didn't just learn theory; they actually produced objects. The metal workshop made lamps, the carpentry workshop made furniture, the weaving workshop made textiles. And many of these items were sold commercially, which helped fund the school. Luna: So it was like a real design studio and factory combined. Lucas: Exactly. And the products became iconic. The Bauhaus lamp, the Wassily chair, the tea infuser by Marianne Brandt — these are still in production today. The school had a 'form follows function' principle, but also a commitment to mass production. They wanted good design to be affordable for everyone. Lucas: But there's a darker side to that story. The workshops were highly gendered. Women were often steered toward weaving and ceramics, while men dominated metalwork and carpentry. Despite the Bauhaus's progressive reputation, it wasn't always egalitarian. Luna: I've heard about that. The 'Bauhaus girl' stereotype — female students who cut their hair short and wore modern clothes, but still faced restrictions. Lucas: Right. And yet, many women produced brilliant work. Anni Albers in weaving, Marianne Brandt in metalwork — they pushed boundaries. Brandt's tea infuser is a masterpiece of functional design. It's a reminder that even within constraints, creativity can flourish. Lucas: So when we look back at the Bauhaus in Dessau, we're looking at a moment when a small group of artists and designers tried to remake the world. They didn't fully succeed — the politics, the compromises, the eventual shutdown — but they left a blueprint. Every time you sit in a modern chair or use a sleek lamp, you're benefiting from what they started. Luna: That's a powerful way to think about it. Thanks for this deep dive.