Photoautomats of Berlin
In Berlin, the photo booth is an institution, with booths, or Photoautomats, scattered across the city. The city’s old photo booths stand like relics from another era. Between concrete and graffiti, glass towers and overgrown lots, small boxes of light still wait on street corners. Around them, life carries on. Trains rattle overhead, laughter spills out from a nearby beer garden, music blares from an open apartment window. Yet within those thin metal walls, the world slows. Each booth offers a small, familiar ritual: a curtain drawn, a flash, the quiet anticipation of waiting for the strip to appear. I spent a summer tracing them across boroughs and borders, through alleyways and clubs, under rail lines, across a once divided city.