Staring at Poverty in a Swiss Alpine Playground

Braunwald, a typical Swiss mountain village, has turned itself into a walk-in gallery. The subject of this communal display is the crushing poverty of its own ancestors. Emil Brunner, a Glarus-born photographer who usually roamed from the Arctic to the Sahara, found himself trapped by closed borders during the Second World War. Unable to globe-trot, Brunner turned his lens on the local youth, capturing over 1500 portraits of mountain children between 1943 and 1944. Now, thirty years after his death, the village is displaying 60 of these stark images along walking trails, inside an old schoolhouse, and within six converted animal stalls. The exhibition, titled 'Berg Kind Welt', runs until October 18 and is backed by the Swiss Foundation for Photography and BSINTI Kultur Braunwald.

Modern Switzerland is famously wealthy, boasting a highly functional state system and a comfortable distance from the continent's deeper structural crises. The nation largely profited from its historical positioning outside the European fray, emerging rich, highly educated, and somewhat naive about the harsher realities of the twentieth century. Yet, Brunner’s black-and-white records reveal a radically different domestic reality. These were children who lacked basic opportunities, trapped in subsistence living while the rest of Europe tore itself apart. Local farmer Köbi Streiff, who emptied his own shed for the displays while his livestock graze the summer alpine pastures, observed the jarring proximity of historical destitution and contemporary affluence. He noted that many of the photographed children would have liked to learn a trade but simply lacked the means to do so.

The entire community has mobilized for this cultural display, demonstrating a level of local cohesion that larger, more bureaucratic states might envy. Bettina Tamò, the cultural officer for BSINTI Kultur Braunwald, confirmed the broad local backing, noting that property owners, farmers, local businesses, and holiday home residents all threw their weight behind the project from its inception. Rather than relying on distant, top-down funding mechanisms, the village simply opened its own doors and barns.

Curator Fridolin Walcher views the enduring power of these images as stemming from their directness, forcing modern viewers to confront their own highly insulated, comfortable lives. Audio and visual stations accompany the portraits, broadcasting the memories of contemporary witnesses who recall the severe rationing and despair of the era. One recorded mother speaks of having absolutely nothing left to cook for her family, a harsh echo of a past that today's affluent Swiss society prefers to leave behind. Streiff, who remembers Brunner as a severely serious figure whom he avoided as a child, now hopes the installation draws crowds to the remote corners of his village. It is a peculiar but effective local reckoning: a wealthy, somewhat cowardly society staring into the eyes of its impoverished past, safely framed against a picturesque alpine backdrop.

Written by Martina Kirchner martina.kirchner@alpineweekly.com