Preservation has long presented itself as a gesture of care. A shield against the erosion of time. But beneath that promise lies a system of valuation so seamless, so internalized, that it no longer needs to announce itself. From its revolutionary origins to its current bureaucratic apparatus, it has served as a technology of coherence - designed to produce continuity in moments of rupture. It consolidates itself through maps, inventories, and laws, translating cultural values into spatial hierarchies, determining what must endure. Yet every act of endurance is also an act of erasure. And from this economy of exclusion, identity is quietly assembled. 

We believe that for too long, preservation institutions have operated within these protected spheres, turning a blind eye to the side effects of their actions. Entire urban areas are undergoing massive upheaval, with neighborhoods whose façades appear mundane and unremarkable, while institutions repaint their own exteriors, completely ignoring the decaying foundations they stand upon. 

We believe that in the current discourse, what is overlooked is not the scope of preservation, nor its precision. Rather, it is the questioning of an intrinsically European conception of our built environment that should be at the forefront, as state-induced rhetorics of protection and valuation increasingly serve as alibis for erasing the neglected, the unloved, and the discarded. 

It is within this framework that we approached the Gemüsebrücke - not to defend the bridge as a monument, but to treat its removal as a symptom. As a point of entry into the silent mechanisms by which preservation selects, excludes, and renders certain forms of life imperceptible.