Eislingen, a small town near Stuttgart, Germany, has unexpectedly emerged as the capital of roundabout art, where unconventional sculptures spark both fascination and controversy among residents. The town's transformation began when local art advocate Paul Kottmann intervened to prevent the installation of a simple mammoth tree at the center of the first roundabout, arguing that such a prominent location deserved something more significant and artistic.
The artistic revolution in Eislingen coincided with a broader shift in German traffic planning that occurred around the time of the Berlin Wall's fall. The rigid system of straight roads and hierarchical intersections gradually gave way to a softer, circular model where all traffic moves in the same direction. Unlike traditional intersections with their competing traffic flows, roundabouts create a space where everyone shares the same path, and once you enter, you have right-of-way indefinitely.
However, this new traffic solution presented an aesthetic challenge: the empty center. Public spaces that everyone must circle around seemed to demand some form of focal point, something substantial to anchor the visual landscape. Initially, city planners in Eislingen, like many other German municipalities, considered filling this void with conventional greenery - specifically, a mammoth tree.
Paul Kottmann, a designer and active member of the local art association, recognized the unique opportunity presented by this prominent public space. He convinced the mayor that such a visible location required "something distinctive" - and in his view, that meant art. Kottmann knew a sculptor who could create an appropriate work for the space, and his advocacy led to the installation of the first artistic roundabout centerpiece.
The inaugural artwork, created by Stuttgart artist Christoph Freimann, stands 6.5 meters high and consists of red steel struts arranged in a dynamic, seemingly unsorted configuration. Despite its artistic merit, the sculpture became a source of significant public controversy. Many residents viewed the 80,000 Deutsche Mark expenditure as wasteful, arguing they could have purchased more conventional decorative elements like bronze geese or a maiden with a headscarf at a gurgling fountain instead.
The public backlash was intense and sustained. Kottmann recalls having "several binders full of angry letters to the editor and articles" criticizing the decision. Citizens felt that an artwork they neither requested nor appreciated had been imposed upon them, especially something that didn't conform to their expectations of what art should look like. They suggested the sculpture belonged in Stuttgart's State Gallery rather than in their town center where everyone had to endure it daily.
When a second roundabout was planned and the city council faced another decision about how to treat the central space, Eislingen reached a crucial turning point. While other municipalities filled their traffic islands with conventional decorative elements - coat-of-arms trees, cider pears, and folk art disguised as serious sculpture - Eislingen's mayor chose a different path. Rather than appeasing public discontent with kitsch, he again opted for genuine art.
Once more, Kottmann and the art association served as advisors, and predictably, the controversy erupted anew. Critics again complained that the art was too expensive and too ugly. However, the mayor's persistence in supporting challenging contemporary art gradually began to transform the town's cultural landscape.
Today, two decades and nine artworks later, many residents have developed a sense of pride in their unique collection of roundabout sculptures. Eislingen is now frequently celebrated as the capital of roundabout art, with no other small town featuring such a concentration of public artworks in such a compact area. The town has created an environment where residents actively engage with art, circling through their daily routines while unexpectedly entering a space of open dialogue and debate.
The transformation demonstrates how persistent commitment to challenging public art can gradually shift community attitudes. What began as widespread opposition has evolved into a more complex relationship where art serves as a catalyst for ongoing civic discussion. In Eislingen, art is never treated with indifference - residents examine it closely, take it seriously, and engage with its political dimensions.
The town's success lies not just in the quantity of its public artworks, but in how these pieces have created a democratic space for aesthetic and cultural debate. The sculptures bring together different interests and perspectives, challenging citizens to engage with questions of public space, artistic value, and community identity. Through its commitment to challenging rather than appeasing public taste, Eislingen has proven that public art can be both aesthetically significant and socially relevant, transforming a utilitarian traffic solution into a platform for ongoing cultural dialogue.
