Plan began as an objection. In the early 1990s, while Berlin argued over the form a central Holocaust memorial should take, Bettina Lockemann and Elisabeth Neudörfl proposed a different route: instead of concentrating remembrance at one address, they would photograph the many addresses at which persecution had actually been organised and carried out. Across roughly a month they worked through government ministries and agencies, buildings from which Jewish residents were forced to move, the villa where the Wannsee Conference was held. Their subject was the perpetrators’ geography of the city, not the victims’.

The photographs withhold what memorial imagery usually supplies. Lockemann has described avoiding anything emblematic — no rails leading to the Auschwitz gate, no commemorative plaques, no sculpture. What remains is ordinary: a facade, a street corner, an office window. A viewer without prior knowledge would notice nothing. Working separately, the two photographers occasionally arrived at the same picture of the same site, a coincidence the book quietly registers.

The refusal of captions is equally deliberate. Place names would turn photographs into illustrations of facts already known; here the images are identified by address alone, with a list at the back recording what happened at each one. The argument of the book lives in that arrangement — in sequence, in withheld text, in the reader’s slow assembly of meaning. The Institut für Buchkunst at Leipzig’s Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst published the volume in 1999; it runs to 180 pages and is printed in German.

For collectors of German photography of the 1990s, Plan sits at a productive crossing: the anti-monumental turn in public memory, conceptual documentary practice, and the book-making culture of the Leipzig school. It is a work in which the book is not a container for pictures but part of the thinking. The trade has recorded copies signed by Lockemann, which will matter to those following her work or the period.