Smoke and solidarity: Piotr Pietrus documents a protest against Europe’s first Tesla factory

Just 20 minutes outside of Berlin lies Europe’s only Tesla factory. Hidden away in an expanse of forest, its construction has caused significant controversy. To make way for the vast structure, 500,000 trees were felled and 329 hectares of land flattened, with a further 100 hectares now at risk with the company’s planned formation of a new SUV model. It also sits on a water conservation area, and the company has been reported to engage in exploitative supply chains, as well as creating inhumane working conditions. The true contradiction lies in the fact that Tesla (owned by billionaire businessman Elon Musk) presents itself as a sustainable company. But this irony is not one lost on the alliance group Disrupt, who in May of this year organised the Disrupt Tesla Days direct action – an occupation of the factory’s surrounding area by hundreds of activists.

The Polish-born, Berlin-based photographer Piotr Peitrus joined the action, and documented its many facets. He was driven to do so for two main reasons: one, his support of the initiative, but secondly, what it represents on a broader scale. “Because of climate change we are heading for an irreversible catastrophe and I believe that any capitalist ‘solutions’ only really benefit those who profit from them,” says Piotr. “Actions like the Disrupt Tesla Days are part of the answer as to how we can get out of this economic paradigm and resistances like this one will become more frequent and urgent in the near future.”

It was this universality of message that Piotr wanted to translate into the images he took. Detaching the events from a specific location or timeline, Piotr was “looking for a narration where the political and poetic intersect”, using his intuition to focus heavily on details, gestures, colour. Perhaps this comes from Piotr’s creative journey, originally studying painting at the Academy of Fine Arts in Bologna before switching to photography, attracted to the mobility of the medium. This painterly approach to image making materialises in a particularly striking shot from the series – an activist submerged in a cloud of pinky orange smoke, their hand reaching out from within, the rest of their body and clothing simply an outline. With a cinematic quality, the image resonates for a number of reasons, for the feeling it could be from any protest, anywhere but also the resonance to the cause at hand, the sense of polluted air taking over, suffocating those in frame.

Piotr was also intent on showing the multi-faceted nature of the direct action, and “the many contrasts you experience within a short space of time”. One image shows a piano, stationed with the activists taking part in a treehouse occupation close to the factory, floating constructions that look like something out of a kid’s wildest dreams. “When you hear its notes echoing through the forest, it’s really peaceful”, Piotr says. While others – mere hours later – are a different story, teaming with people and organised chaos. A hoard of blue capped activists swarm toward the factory. More than anything this civil disobedience is intended to pique conversation, and raise awareness of the impact of the factory, which isn’t widely reported.

The police response to this specific non-violent action was widely disproportionate, a fact that Piotr says is “increasingly typical”, yet still receives “very little-to-no media discussion”. Another shot shows a group of heavily armoured police also scaling the terrain, toting batons, pepper spray and tasers. But the few images of police are outnumbered by those showing signs of solidarity; a maze of hands holding each other; four bodies protecting a fallen figure; activists helping others up the uneven terrain. Through the series, these small gestures of togetherness become a resounding signal of what truly triumphs, and how hand in hand, we can fight for a better future.