Two giant pale hands cradle around nine hundred faces. They pour through a crack in white concrete, a flood of people streaming forward in pastel blues, pinks, yellows, greens.

This is It Happened in November, painted by Kani Alavi in nineteen ninety. Each face is different. Some scream, some stare, some look lost.

Alavi was born in northern Iran in nineteen fifty-five. In nineteen eighty he fled what he called an inhuman dictatorship and moved to Berlin.

He studied painting at the Berlin University of the Arts under Klaus Fußmann, learning the expressionist brushwork that would define his Wall mural.

In November nineteen eighty-nine, Alavi was living in an apartment overlooking the border between East and West Berlin, right next to Checkpoint Charlie.

From his bedroom window he watched the Wall fall. He expected to see happy faces. But what he saw surprised him.

People from the East were entering the West, yes. But Alavi saw sadness, insecurity, fear. He saw faces frightened of change, frightened of the future.

That image stayed with him. Two months later, in early nineteen ninety, he was invited to paint at the East Side Gallery.

One hundred eighteen artists from twenty-one countries came to turn one point three kilometers of the Wall into the world's largest open-air gallery.

Alavi originally painted It Happened in November on canvas. Then he transferred it to this section of Wall along Mühlenstraße.

Against a blue background, the white concrete splits open. Around nine hundred faces flood through the crack, a seemingly never-ending crowd.

The two pale hands embrace them. They hold the frightened, the uncertain, the hopeful, all together in one gesture.

In nineteen ninety-six Alavi co-founded the Künstlerinitiative East Side Gallery, the artists' initiative that has fought to preserve this stretch of Wall ever since.

He served as its chairman for years. In two thousand eleven Germany awarded him the Order of Merit for his commitment to the gallery.

The mural has weathered decades now. The concrete cracks, the paint fades, restoration crews return.

But the faces remain. Nine hundred people, forever caught between fear and hope, held in two open hands.

Two giant pale hands cradle around nine hundred faces. They pour through a crack in white concrete, a flood of people streaming forward in pastel blues, pinks, yellows, greens.

This is It Happened in November, painted by Kani Alavi in nineteen ninety. Each face is different. Some scream, some stare, some look lost.

Alavi was born in northern Iran in nineteen fifty-five. In nineteen eighty he fled what he called an inhuman dictatorship and moved to Berlin.

He studied painting at the Berlin University of the Arts under Klaus Fußmann, learning the expressionist brushwork that would define his Wall mural.

In November nineteen eighty-nine, Alavi was living in an apartment overlooking the border between East and West Berlin, right next to Checkpoint Charlie.

From his bedroom window he watched the Wall fall. He expected to see happy faces. But what he saw surprised him.

People from the East were entering the West, yes. But Alavi saw sadness, insecurity, fear. He saw faces frightened of change, frightened of the future.

That image stayed with him. Two months later, in early nineteen ninety, he was invited to paint at the East Side Gallery.

One hundred eighteen artists from twenty-one countries came to turn one point three kilometers of the Wall into the world's largest open-air gallery.

Alavi originally painted It Happened in November on canvas. Then he transferred it to this section of Wall along Mühlenstraße.

Against a blue background, the white concrete splits open. Around nine hundred faces flood through the crack, a seemingly never-ending crowd.

The two pale hands embrace them. They hold the frightened, the uncertain, the hopeful, all together in one gesture.

In nineteen ninety-six Alavi co-founded the Künstlerinitiative East Side Gallery, the artists' initiative that has fought to preserve this stretch of Wall ever since.

He served as its chairman for years. In two thousand eleven Germany awarded him the Order of Merit for his commitment to the gallery.

The mural has weathered decades now. The concrete cracks, the paint fades, restoration crews return.

But the faces remain. Nine hundred people, forever caught between fear and hope, held in two open hands.

Es geschah im November - KaniAlavi

Two pale hands cradle a flood of faces through cracked white concrete. Around nine hundred people in pastel blues, pinks, yellows, greens, streaming forward on a stretch of the Berlin Wall. In November nineteen eighty-nine, Kani Alavi was living in an apartment next to Checkpoint Charlie. From his bedroom window he watched the Wall fall. He expected to see happy faces. But as people from the East entered the West, he saw sadness, insecurity, fear. Faces frightened of change, frightened of the future. Two months later, in nineteen ninety, he painted those faces onto this section of Wall. Each one is different. Some scream, some stare, some look lost. Alavi had fled what he called an inhuman dictatorship in Iran in nineteen eighty. He understood what it meant to cross into freedom carrying fear in your chest. The mural has weathered decades now. The concrete cracks, the paint fades, restoration crews return. But the faces remain, held in two open hands. Listen to the full guide and I'll tell you the rest.

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