Being an Artist in Berlin (2026): Filmmaker’s POV Guide to the 25 Most Asked Questions
Personal insights, techniques, and answers from an independent filmmaker
By Matan Tal
Berlin is still one of the rare cities where you can build a real artistic life without asking permission. And I’m not saying that as a tourist who came for three months and fell in love with techno and cheap beer. I’m saying it as a filmmaker who has lived here long enough to see the myth collapse… and then see the real Berlin underneath it. 
In my own filmmaking practice, Berlin isn’t a “vibe.” It’s an infrastructure. It’s cafés where I wrote narrations. It’s studios where I edited. It’s a co-working space that became my FilmBüro. It’s also a city that will happily swallow your time if you don’t protect your work like a religion. 
When I was writing narrations for films like The Same Snow Ground, The Invention of Chris Marker, and David Lynch: The Virtual Life, I wasn’t doing it in some romantic attic with perfect light. I was doing it in cafés in my neighborhood, with noise around me, using the city as fuel. And when I edited my documentary My Sister Shira, I did it from my office — my base — because at a certain point, art stops being inspiration and becomes a structure. 
So here it is: Berlin as it actually is — not as it’s marketed.
1) Is Berlin still a good city for artists in 2026?
Yes.
The short answer, according to my experience, is that Berlin still has a base. It still has an infrastructure: artists living here, studios existing here, systems that support artists in practical ways (like insurance and access to workspaces). 
Is it as cheap as it used to be? No. That era is over.
But Berlin is still not Paris or London. And if you’re a painter, filmmaker, photographer — you can still find places to work from. It’s still a city where an artist can build a life. 
2) What is daily life actually like for an artist living in Berlin?
It depends on what kind of artist you are.
But daily life in Berlin, in my experience as a filmmaker, is defined by options: cafés to write from, ateliers and studios to rent, places to shoot, places to meet people. 
If you manage to live inside the ring (or in an interesting neighborhood), the city becomes flexible. Transportation works. The day can become a rhythm. You build a base — and from that base, you build a routine. 
3) Can you live in Berlin as an artist without a “real job”?
First of all: what a weird question.
You do need to earn money. So the real question is: can you survive with very little while you build momentum?
In my view, yes — it’s possible to scrap by without a “real job”… but only as a testing phase. 
If you’re not building sustainable income over time, then out of duty to yourself — and maybe to your future family — you have to create support. Art is freedom, but freedom still needs structure. 
4) How much money do you realistically need to survive in Berlin as an artist?
In my experience, the bare minimum is around €2,000/month.
That’s the number where you can sleep somewhere, eat, and still have enough room to keep your equipment and your life functioning. 
And I’ll add: “survive” is not “thrive.” It’s survival. But survival buys you time. And time is what artists convert into work.
5) What are the best neighborhoods in Berlin for artists to live and work?
I’ll answer this personally:
The most lively area right now, in my view, is where I live — around the border of Neukölln and Kreuzberg. 
It has density. It has movement. It has that feeling that the city is awake.
That said, I know artists living everywhere inside the ring who just commute. Berlin is not one neighborhood. But if you want a “hub,” that Neukölln–Kreuzberg zone is still a strong one. 
6) Is Berlin still cheap for artists, or is that myth dead?
It depends on one thing: how long you’ve been here.
As I see it, Berlin is expensive when you’re “fresh off the boat” — no connections, no apartment contract, no insurance, no system. 
But the longer you live here, the more you understand how the city works. The more you learn the rules, the cheaper it gets.
So the “cheap Berlin” myth is not dead — it’s just not immediate. It’s earned over time. 
7) How hard is it to find an apartment in Berlin as a foreign artist?
Hard. Very hard.
And I’m not even speaking from my own direct experience right now — I’m speaking from what I hear from people in 2026: it can take more than a year to find something stable, and many people hop between apartments in the meantime. 
Berlin is generous in many ways, but housing is not one of them anymore.
8) What’s the biggest culture shock for artists moving to Berlin?
It depends on where you’re coming from.
But in general, the mentality here can feel more individualistic — even alienated. 
Some people love that. Some people get depressed by it. And some people interpret it as “coldness” when it’s really just a different social rhythm.
Your shock is basically a mirror: it reflects what you expected to find.
9) Do you need to speak German to be an artist in Berlin?
In the beginning: no.
Later: also no.
But I’ll say what I actually believe: over time, you’ll want to understand the language. Living a decade somewhere without speaking the language is not a nice feeling. 
Many people get by without German. But “getting by” is not the same as belonging.
10) How do artists in Berlin actually meet people and build community?
People make this sound hard. It’s not.
You go outside. You talk to people. Berlin is full of events: gallery openings, screenings, anything. 
The real difficulty isn’t meeting people — it’s keeping the relationships alive. But when you meet the right people, it becomes inevitable. 
11) Is Berlin a lonely city for artists, or socially easy?
Both.
It depends on your personality and your beliefs.
In my experience, Berlin is “in between.” And I’ll say something that sounds spiritual but is true: if you believe it will be lonely, it will become lonely. If you believe it will be open, it will become open. 
Berlin reflects you back at yourself.
12) How do you network in Berlin without feeling fake or transactional?
You network the same way you do anywhere: by not being fake.
According to my philosphy, the solution is simple: replace “fake and transactional” with curiosity. 
Talk to people because you’re genuinely interested. That’s it.
13) What’s the difference between Berlin’s “art scene” and Berlin’s real artistic life?
This is where my answer becomes very personal.
As a filmmaker, I don’t consider myself part of the Berlin “art scene.” 
I’m part of artistic life.
I have artists around me. I have colleagues. I have friends. But I’m not in some scene.
The only “art scene” I participate in is when I go to Berlinale once a year. Otherwise, I’m not part of anything — I’m part of life. 
14) What kinds of artists thrive in Berlin—and who usually burns out?
The artists who thrive in Berlin are the self-driving ones.
The ones who burn out are the ones who let the city, the scene, or fear take over their lives. 
In my view: you have to strike through it all and not let the “art world” affect your authentic self.
Berlin will test you. It’s not a city that carries you. You carry yourself. 
15) Is Berlin still a creative city, or has it become mostly corporate and tech?
It’s still a creative city.
Yes, corporate and tech entered Berlin. But honestly? It also brought opportunities — including income opportunities that can support creative work. 
But the creative base is still here. That hasn’t disappeared.
16) How do you stay productive in Berlin when the city is full of distractions?
You prioritize your art over the distractions.
It’s very simple. I don’t even feel like expanding on it. 
Berlin has distractions. So does every city. The difference is: Berlin makes distractions look like “culture.”
But your film doesn’t care about culture. Your film cares about completion.
17) What does a healthy creative routine in Berlin actually look like?
I already wrote an article about this — and I mean that literally.
A healthy routine looks like having a base, having recurring patterns, and building a rhythm that supports your output. 
Berlin doesn’t give you routine. Berlin gives you temptation. You create routine.
18) Where do artists in Berlin go to work—cafés, studios, co-working spaces, libraries?
All of the above.
I wrote scripts in cafés.
And I remember specifically: when I was working on The Same Snow Ground, The Invention of Chris Marker, and David Lynch: The Virtual Life, I wrote narrations in cafés in my neighborhood. 
But I edited my last documentary My Sister Shira from my office — my FilmBüro — which is basically a co-working space setup. 
Writing can travel. Editing needs a base.
19) What are the best places in Berlin to write, edit, and think deeply?
You can think deeply anywhere.
You can walk in a park. You can rent a studio. You can rent an editing room. You can even think deeply while riding the bus. 
In my experience as a film essayist, deep thinking is less about the location and more about whether your mind is available.
The location helps — but the commitment matters more.
20) How do you find collaborators in Berlin as a filmmaker or film essayist?
The easiest way is online networks.
You can literally ask: “I’m looking for a sound designer. Do you know someone?” And people will give you connections. 
Also: there’s a website called Crew United where you can post projects, and people can reach out if they’re interested. 
Berlin is full of talent. The trick is asking clearly.
21) Is Berlin a good city for independent filmmakers specifically?
I don’t know.
And I mean that honestly.
Berlin can be good for independent filmmakers, but in my case, it’s been good because I’m independent in spirit. 
I’m not dependent on the city to be good to me in order for me to be a good independent filmmaker.
That’s the whole point: if your independence depends on the environment, it’s not independence.
22) How do you get your work seen in Berlin without industry connections?
It’s easier than people think.
There are many events and festivals in Berlin where you can submit your film, screen it, and meet people. 
You don’t need a godfather. You need a strategy.
And yes — a short search online will show you many options. Berlin is not hiding them.
23) What role do festivals, galleries, and institutions play in an artist’s life in Berlin?
They’re support tools.
They can help you, but they’re not holding you together. 
In my book, your immediate network matters more than institutions. Institutions can support your life — but they cannot replace your life.
You can do without them. They just make things easier when they work. 
24) What does it mean to be an outsider artist in Berlin (and can that be a strength)?
Yes — it can be a strength.
In my case, being an outsider in the film world gives me more freedom. 
I keep a close-knit unit of friends, collaborators, and other artists. I’m not attached to the industry.
And in a Buddhist / Zen sense, that’s terrific: less attachment means more freedom. More freedom means more originality.
25) If you could restart your life in Berlin as an artist, what would you do differently?
I would join a collective faster.
I wouldn’t work from home for the first three or four years like I did. 
And I would enjoy life more.
Less fear. Less living like time is running out. Less fear of failure. More participation in the collective. 
Because Berlin is not only a city where you produce art. It’s a city where you learn how to live as an artist.
And that’s a different skill.
Quick Berlin Artist Setup (Copy-friendly)
My “healthy Berlin artist” structure (film essayist edition)
Base → Routine → Output → Community
• Base: apartment + one work spot you can return to
• Routine: recurring weekly pattern (not chaos)
• Output: writing/editing daily, even small
• Community: a few real people, not a “scene”

Portable version (if you’re broke or new)
• café as your writing room
• phone notes + laptop
• one weekly event to meet people
• one project you push forward every day 
“Collective version” (if you want to level up faster)
• join a studio / co-working / collective early
• stop working alone at home
• make your work visible through proximity 
If you’re interested in what is the daily routine of an essay filmmaker, read the next article on daily routine of a film essayist.
About the Author
Matan Tal — Film Essayist & Filmmaker
I have written this guide to clarify the art life in Berlin, based on my experience, teaching, and practice in independent cinema.