Past –> Present #3
ifa Gallery Berlin at 30 feat. Milica Tomić and Selma Selman

Past –> Present brings together artistic and curatorial positions associated with the ifa-gallery since its founding in 1991. Using the gallery’s program as a reference point, I will converse with a group of guests about ifa’s general ethos and research interests in the early 90s and today. 

What’s the relevance of cultural institutions that foster artistic & cultural exchange, such as ifa, back then and now (especially in times of rising nationalism and cultural isolation)? 

In contrast to many West German cultural institutions of the time, the ifa Gallery Berlin concentrated early, throughout the 1990s, on collaborations with artists and curators from Eastern and Southern Europe. How have artistic approaches, curatorial practices and working methods changed over the years? And what is the situation regarding public space, which historically has been more actively incorporated into artistic practices in Eastern and Southern Europe?

This podcast links these and similar questions to wider contemporary issues and offers a podium to artists and cultural practitioners affiliated with ifa at some point in their career. 

I’m Sandra Teitge, Berlin-born and based curator and researcher, and the moderator of this podcast.

Today, for this third episode of Past –> Present, I’m very happy to welcome and give the floor to Vienna-based artist and chair of the Institute for Contemporary Art at the TU Graz Milica Tomić and to artist and activist Selma Selman, currently based in Amsterdam where she is pursuing the Rijksakademie residency. The two of them will converse about their respective work with and beyond ifa; their exchange is accompanied by the audio piece “Miss Kosovo” by the Amsterdam-based artist Astrit Ismaili, which is actually the sound extraction of a performance Astrit did at the last Athens Biennale in September 2021, also available as a bonus track in full length on the Untie to Tie website.

“Miss Kosovo” is Astrit Ismaili’s alter ego. Inspired by Kosovo’s transition from part of Yugoslavia to an independent state, “Miss Kosovo” is a fictional figure drawn from Astrit’s pop-operette work “MISS”, that represents this transition, acting as testimony of intense bodily experience and transformation.

Milica Tomić was born in the 1960s in Belgrade when Yugoslavia was still a country, the so-called Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. In her work, she explores different genres and methods of artistic practice that center on investigating, unearthing and bringing to public debate issues related to political violence, economic underpinnings and social amnesia. Milica has participated in major international exhibitions such as the São Paulo Biennial (1998), the Venice Biennale (2001/2003); the Istanbul Biennial (2003). She has equally taken part in numerous projects and international workshops as an artist, researcher and lecturer, amongst others at the Piet Zwart Institute; the Summer Academy Salzburg; Akademie der Bildenden Künste, Vienna, Austria; and in the DAAD Berlin Artist Program.

Selma Selman is of a different generation than Milica, born in the 1990s in the newly founded Bosnia and Herzegovina and coming of age as a woman of Romani origin during the Yugoslavian War. Selma’s work seeks to re-interpret identities, cliches of, for example, statelessness, as well as multi-generational trauma, especially with regards to women. She understands art as a transformative tool that is capable of fighting those mechanisms of marginalization, whilst empowering collective emancipation. Selma is a founder of the organization Get The Heck To School, aiming to empower Roma girls who face ostracisation from society and poverty. She took part in the FutuRoma Pavilion at the 2019 Venice Biennale and has exhibited among others at: Kunsthalle Wien/AT (2020); Queens Museum, NYC/US (2019); Villa Romana, Florence/IT (2019);  Good Children Gallery, New Orleans/US (2016); Kunstquartier Bethanien, Berlin/DE (2016); Museum of Contemporary Art, Banja Luka/BA (2014).

ST: Welcome Milica! Welcome Selma! I’m so grateful to have both of you calling in from your respective homes, Vienna and Amsterdam. It wasn’t so easy to find a date that works for everyone but here we are! I’m especially pleased to have you two here with me, as each of you represents a different generation of artists from former Yugoslavia – I had already hinted at that in your bios.

I don’t want to give a history lesson but just quickly so we are all on the same page: Yugoslavia, led by Tito, was a rather fascinating country – especially to me having been born in the rather rigid and Moscow-controlled German Democratic Republic (East Germany)– and Yugoslavia was the only one in the Eastern bloc that practiced market-based socialism (“laissez-faire Socialism”) and was also one of the founding members of the Non-Aligned Movement (a forum of states that are not formally aligned with or against any major power bloc; are therefore neutral).

Milica, as already mentioned, you were born in Belgrade in the Socialist Republic of Serbia –and capital of Yugoslavia– when the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia was still a somewhat functioning country (Tito died in 1980… and with that ethnic tensions began which eventually led to the breakup of the region); Selma you were born in 1991 shortly before the Socialist Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina became independent and, eventually simply Bosnia Herzegovina.

That being said,  I’m curious to see how that history possibly reflects in each of your work, especially with regards to the works you showed and are showing in the frame of the ifa exhibitions.

Again, thank you for joining ifa and me today for this podcast.

I briefly mentioned in the intro both of your involvement with ifa.

Milica, if we could start with you. If you could talk a little bit about your involvement in the ifa-exhibition that took place in 1998 and was called “Focus Belgrade – Fragments of Serbian Art and Culture” in the ifa Gallery in Berlin. Perhaps you could talk about who invited you, which work you showed, what the context was, what you remember.

MT: Yeah, maybe it’s interesting to observe this moment, the title of the exhibition, which was “Focus Belgrade” and then as you said, “Fragments,” and that it refers then to Serbia. It was organized by Bojana Pejić. She was the curator, together with, with Dejan Sretenović, who was a curator working at that time at the Center for Contemporary Art, which was part of the Soros Foundation, actually. And he was working in Belgrade. So it was actually a very tricky moment. It was in ‘98, when the war on Kosovo, started, but wasn’t, you know, it was before NATO bombing. But now I would like to say something about this exhibition, and maybe also to explain my work that was in itt. So it was a work that I that I made in ‘96. It was a work that was about a massacre on Kosovo, that happened in ‘89. And this was the moment actually when the constitution of Serbia was changed. And it was the 28th of March. And it was a new constitution that actually took over and the sovereignty of two independent parts that were part of Serbia, but they had its sovereignty and another kind of self-determined status. It was actually Kosovo and Vojvodina. So in this moment, they lost this opportunity and the sovereignty. And in Kosovo, they were continuous demonstrations, like in three days. And it was a very peaceful demonstration, actually, with students, with people who were against this loss of sovereignty. And 33 people were killed, men and women; and it was never actually published. And it is still not published. In the moment when, in ‘96, the Belgrade demonstration against the government of Milosevic started, I actually felt that this is the right moment to talk about Kosovo. And there were demonstrations against Milosevic and his government. And it was the moment when for the first time, actually, from ‘89 till now, till this moment in ‘96, there were no demonstrations in such masses and there were not so many people on the streets like in this moment. I actually got in contact with my friends from Kosovo, who had sent me to documentation of these people who were killed. And before that for years, I was trying to find the context and the way how to talk about this. And parallel in this moment, I was invited for the exhibition in this Center for Contemporary Art, that was actually part of the Soros Foundation. And I was planning some other piece. But in this moment, when I turned around and went home, I started working on this, getting all the information about the people who were killed, and then inviting, actually, my colleagues to record them. And I reconstructed clothes that I have found on the identity pictures, you know, just photos of people who were killed, but not as killed in living persons, you know, like from identity cards, and passports. And I collected and I reconstructed actually, their clothes. And I invited my colleagues to get into these clothes, and recorded actually this moment of bringing into relation this with us, actually with, with the part of Serbia they didn’t want to know about. And I titled the work, “XY ungelöst – Reconstruction of a Crime”, that is actually referring to this German contact show that was so popular in the ‘70s when I was a kid, and I was living in Germany. I was actually with my grandmother, who was a guest worker or a “Gastarbeiter”, in Germany, in Frankfurt. And there were lots of demonstrations at the time on the streets when I was a kid there; it was in ‘68, and ‘69. And this show was so popular, actually. And the whole work was, was meant to be how to establish a communication between us, and that what happened that is hidden. And it was meant to be just in Belgrade, because I didn’t think that I could approach a wider audience than these people who would come to the show and be part of this [xxx] because there were 33 people. And at that time, this whole art scene was somehow isolated also from the state institutions. So there was a parallel, let’s say, life in art at the time. And my idea was actually just to establish a, like relations between death that we like relations with that that is so brutally cut out from our, you know, awareness and the publicness. Yeah, so this was this piece.

MUSIC

And in the moment when this was actually being shown abroad, I came actually to Berlin for this ifa-exhibition, from the São Paulo Biennial. And this was the moment actually when I realized that this work is coming into another context. And the whole interpretation, actually, of that what we were doing and what I was doing was then interpreted, of course, in a totally different way, let’s say. And this decontextualization of an intellectual context was for me, let’s say, the first moment of this desire to work and to establish a context from where I can speak that will actually accompany the work.

ST: I think it probably also worked quite well in Berlin, no? Because I grew up in Berlin and I remember that in the 90s a lot of people came from former Yugoslavia –because of the wars– to Germany and also to Berlin. So the exhibition probably had quite a good reception, I could imagine, and also, an understanding.

MT: Yes, yes, of course. And it was maybe one of the rare situations where the reception and the way it was discussed, it was quite deep. Also, in a sense, there was really a wish to understand the context and the framework from where it comes and how it should be also interpreted. Maybe something that we forget very often is that exactly the time in already the beginning of the 90s –I wasn’t part of this; my work was more related to the end of the 90s and 2000– was very much, let’s say, colonized from the view of the Western European and the Western, you know, art world. And we were not so much aware of this at that time. My only worry was how to place myself, you know, my work and what to bring there and how to, what kind of statements to give, and how to present my work. When the title was, for example, “Eastern Europe this,” “Eastern Europe that,” or “Balkan” exhibition, or all this kind of, you know, representation that was around Central Europe, Eastern Europe, and Balkan. And Yugoslavia, actually, at that time was kind of a “dirty” word. (I say a dirty word under, you know, quote). But it was actually a word that was not appreciated, it was not appreciated, actually, till the middle of or beginning of, I don’t know, 2010. It was never mentioned, you know,

ST: But you mean in the West or within people from former Yugoslavia?

MT: I could say both. Because in these former Yugoslav countries, you had all these countries that were actually newly established states; they had to construct new histories. And on the other hand, you had Europe, also, that wanted to place all these newly established countries in a different context. And this context, the first idea was actually “Aha: Balkans and Eastern, former Eastern European countries.” So it was established in this way; they had to establish this new kind of relations. But we were still part of Yugoslav culture. And we were still part of the same language, or three different languages or even more, because there were also minorities, and also different languages. But these three majority languages, they were a part of the same culture, and the same educational system, you know, and this was actually what was part of our… all these artists, we were trying actually, to make our relations visible, you know. All my work that was shown all around, was always brought out of the context into this new way of articulating the space from where it comes.

MUSIC

SS: Can I ask a question?

ST: Yeah, of course.

SS: So Milica, I remember your work, which you did, I think, in Austria. This was a performance with this famous folk singer, I think, Dragana. And I wanted to always ask you, how people reacted to that work, and how they understood this work in relation to Yugoslavia, because you made this work after the breakup of Yugoslavia. And then all people were together, like all people who are living in in former Yugoslavia. When did you do this performance? 2000 something, right.

MT: No, 2000. 

SS: So this is like, right, immediately after the war and everything, the breakup happened. So I’m very curious to see your opinion. How is that to put all people together again? I don’t know who were the people who came to the concert. But you know, when you make such a concert, where usually those kinds of people would never come, right? But they came to see the singer. But then you somehow, I would say, triggered them to come to be together to listen to the concert?

MT: Yes. It was about the specific music that was called turbo folk music. And it was actually very much part of the turbo folk culture all around; that was, you know, another phase of capitalism. “Turbo,” you know; you had “turbo diesel,” you had “Turbo Staubsauger”, you know. You had all this stuff that actually was announcing another phase of capitalism. And there was a really big exhibition in Vienna, as part of Wiener Festwochen. It was part of this, actually. My work was called “you are the world” with small letters. And it meant “You are the world but you cannot participate.” So the question was, what are these global tendencies that are influencing local parts and that are never coming to the international level of communication or they’re not part of global culture, but they are influenced by global culture. So for me this Turbo Folk was a perfect example of this. Turbo Folk was during the war the major popular culture, you know. But my intention was actually also to bring this into question. Because I was thinking actually that the most important thing is that the university didn’t change, theater didn’t change. There were the same people running these institutions. So I invited one of the most popular singers at the time to Vienna, to this exhibition. And it was the called: “This is contemporary art.” It was a kind of a delegated performance; just her her five songs that she was singing, this was the performance. And she printed around, I don’t know, 5000 posters all around the city. And there was an enormous group of people coming who were actually guest workers in Vienna from the whole of Yugoslavia. Because this music is still an amalgam for the whole of former Yugoslav countries, it is still part of, of the same culture. And this culture somehow, the turbo folk culture, is the only one now that really represents this for the wider audience

SS: It brings people together.

MT: Yeah, it brings people together. And my idea was actually, in Vienna, to invite people who are not represented in the public space. So her presence was a moment to somehow address these people who are hidden from, you know, working all these jobs; and I know how they still relate so strongly to their homes, you know, and …

ST: Often stronger than people that actually live in the country.

MT: Yeah, of course. And this was also an interesting moment, when global television started, like satellite programs, that the diaspora was, it was, a global issue; as soon as the turbo folk was a global connection for everybody who could understand the language, you know. And the most incredible, you know, things were happening also during the war that people were in the war but listening to the same music that was coming from different regions. So this was also during the war something that that was connecting people. So for this exhibition, there were so many people coming from, from all around Vienna, and from Vienna, that were actually guest workers or not, I don’t know, who wanted, you know, who maybe came for the first time to the museum, because they had a relation to this; and also then see other works, you know. But they were, they were addressed. Somebody had invited them to come there. So there was the audience that was made of artists, of people who were interested in contemporary art, and the people who are interested, actually, to listen to this in another environment, not the clubbing, you know, culture or turbo folk concerts that were just for Croats or Serbs or Bosnians. But there were all together, you know, being there at this opening when this performance took place.

MUSIC

ST: So this is actually a great transition to the exhibition that you’re part in, Selma, because it’s called EVROVISION, which, I assume, is based on this singing contest, right? It’s called “EVROVIZION.CROSSING STORIES AND SPACES.” And it’s also organized by ifa. And the current edition is taking place in Novi Sad, right, where you were actually just coming from this morning. And before that, it was in Sarajevo?

SS: Yes. The first one was in Sarajevo; the opening of EVROVIZION.

ST: Yes. And it will travel to Athens Tbilisi, Nicosia, amongst many other places.

ST: So Selma, if you could please talk about the work that you are showing in this exhibition EVROVISION.

SS: Sure. Well, yeah, I’ve been working with ifa since last year. So I’m just at the beginning. I’ve been working with Sabina Klemm and Sanja Kojić Mladenov. I don’t know, for me, this is a really great opportunity, because I really like the concept of EVROVISION, because we will be traveling for the next seven years all around the world to exhibit and to make new works. My initial idea for the show in Sarajevo was to do something completely different. But unfortunately, because of the time, I couldn’t do it. However, I still did a project. This project is a permanent collection in my house. So my idea was actually to reconstruct my mom’s childhood. So I approached them with the idea to rebuild my mom’s dream room. My mom never had a childhood; she was married at a very young age, age 12. So from the age one to 12, she never experienced, you know, this feeling of how is that to have a girl’s room. And I though, okay, I will do this interview with my mom and draw the room, which she imagines. And after the drawing, I made the 3D print. And then when I started working with with ifa, and I told them about this idea, they said, “Okay, we will do the production of the room.” And for my mom, this was like a dream come true. And we made this room and it exists now. But unfortunately, only people who would come to Bihac would be able to see the the work. And for the show in Sarajevo and for Novi Sad, I showed older works like, “You Have No Idea” and “Viva la Vida” and the work with my mom, “Do Not Be Like Me,” just one part of the room. For Athens, I’m preparing something completely different, which is more kind of universal and which is related to the my older works with scrap metal and breaking up the different objects. So I’m now in the process of writing the proposal and talking with the curators.

ST: And is it always the curators from ifa that are the only kind of mediators or do they always collaborate also with people in the places, in the locations?

SS: They do collaborate with the people in the, you know, specific institution where the exhibition will be. So that’s the kind of initial idea and also, they’re inviting the artists from the country, in which we will have the show. So if it’s Sarajevo, then the main artists are the local artists; if it’s in Athens, then artist from Greece. So that’s how it goes.

SS: So the context always changes with the location. You also work a lot in performance, also outside, in urban space and public space. Perhaps we could talk about that kind of topic a little bit, art in public space. Also, because it was in the former Eastern Bloc quite, let’s say a popular medium by artists to do performances or actions outside. So perhaps we could, or both of you, from your own perspective, could talk about that notion of perhaps what the urgency was of it in you know, before the 90s, Milica, from your perspective, … and how it has changed now, and how it’s maybe also different, how you have experienced that differently depending on the place where you have lived. Because Selma, you’ve lived in the States for a while; now you’re in Amsterdam. Milica, you’re based in Vienna. If we could talk about that a little bit.

SS: I’m actually a postwar child. So I don’t remember Yugoslavia. I only have these… I had these conversations with my family and with older friends who would tell me how much they loved Yugoslavia. So for me it’s just a utopian country where everything was fine. But on the other hand, I know a lot of stories where things weren’t okay. And of course, my work is inspired by that. And it’s reacting to the collapse of Bosnia, but also to the current situation, in which we live. And the reason why I started doing performances, even though before that I was painting, is because I just felt that with performance, I can really connect with people. And it’s not that I want to convey a message. It’s mostly like using art as a tool to speak the truth. And for me, it really works.

ST: But you’ve performed in different places. You’ve performed in the US and Europe and Bosnia … have you performed in Bosnia, also?

SS: Yeah, I actually left Bosnia when I went to study in Banja Luka; in 2010, I went to Budapest. I was studying sociology, and anthropology. And then I went to study in the United States. So basically last year, I had my first solo show in Bosnia where I did my first performance ever. And to be honest, it was very different; it was the hardest thing to do. Usually, I would do my performances for a long time, 30 to 45 minutes; but this time, it was just like, I don’t know, it was too much. I think people would expect too much from me. And I was so scared, you know, to kind of disappoint them, because I’m from that country, right. And I left when I was no one. But then I came back, I was, you know, a public figure. So it was always this challenge, if I’m going to disappoint someone. And of course, in the Balkans, everyone is 100% more critical towards art than in the West, you know, where I could just speak about myself nicely. And everyone would to say, “You are amazing.” But the Balkans are very raw, you know. You have to prove why you’re good. So that’s the difference.

MUSIC

MT: Selma, I have a question. Why do you think there is this difference?

SS: Why is the difference… I think, because of the education we got. Because I remember when I was studying at the Academy, my professors were very strict. So we had this authority: professor is here, the student is here; you had to listen. But when I was studying United States, I was equal to the professor. I could say what I think; I could critically think about… I could have an opinion. And I wouldn’t say that I didn’t have this opportunity to speak the truth when I was studying in Banja Luka. It’s just the fact that I was limited, also with the information I was getting. So I don’t know, maybe people are more vulnerable. But they also know more to be honest. I could say that I gained a lot of knowledge from the Academy in Banja Luka. Maybe because of that.

ST: And you Milica, do you have some sort of thoughts or observations on that topic: art and public space?

MT: Yeah, you know, Sandra, there is a big question, you know, what is public space?

ST: I know, I know. That’s why I used urban space instead of public space. Because this reflects this issue of the “public.”

MT: Yeah, it is. So for me, it’s more about exploring this. And understanding, actually, what stands behind this. So in this light, let’s say, maybe one can think about all these exhibitions that were made in these former countries or former republics of Yugoslavia, today, new states. It was so much about public space, you know. And you could say that sometimes it was about establishing a new space, a new public space that refers and translates something that was a Yugoslavian context, into specific national states new context, which was Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia Herzegovina – more complex. And they had also the great opportunity to have not a fixed nation state. But they have also another kind of divided society, which is actually a society that is ethnified and has no other possibility. So to exhibit in the public space, it was a call for a society that didn’t exist outside ethnic division. I see it like this. And I think I have to refer then to Dunja Blazevic when we are talking about the 80s and 2000s, who was actually really insisting on this, that all this art has to happen, actually, in the public space and not anymore in the galleries, in the spaces that are meant to be art spaces. So, I think this is an interesting context. And in other countries, you know, I was exhibiting internationally and very often I was working also in relation to the public space. I think in the moment when we are losing that what is called public space, it is actually a claim for something that relates to the public that has to be analyzed, you know. Sometimes it is a claim of public space that still exists, even though it is being privatized and also taken out from that what it was before. And it is interesting to think about this division of Eastern Europe and Western Europe. For me, it is a bigger difference in Western countries, the European countries, between the 70s and today, then, in the time of the Cold War. This division was not so huge as it is in time today, you know, looking back.

ST: Because of the changes in privatization, the development.

MT: In everything, economy, how we live, how the progress of that what is called capitalism, you know, actually made this division stronger. And I think the whole idea around art in public space relates always to this. Or you have this idea to produce a counter public space, that doesn’t exist, but you make it through your artwork, through exhibitions. Or you claim something that is part of constructing a new context. Or whether this is, if we look at former Yugoslavia, or new nation states, let’s say, or in Europe, claiming some other sociopolitical economical changes, you know. And for me, working with groups, with the Monument Group, it was about this: establishing a counter public space, where we can talk about that what is trying to be avoided, and this is actually [for] a post-genocide society.

ST: And you do that also within institutions, not only outside?

MT: Yeah, but when we talk about public spaces, it’s not “inside outside.”

ST: Yeah, sure. You know, I’ve thought about this a lot, because I lived in the United States. And I organized a lot of performances or actions, whatever you want to call it, outside of the institutional space, you know, which is generally called public space. But it’s actually not at all in the United States. And for me, always, this question came up, you know, well, can the point actually be made if you do it or just because you do it outside of an institutional space. Does it mean that it’s –in the US specifically– less controlled, or more open, more accessible, or more kind of interventionist because it becomes so controlled, since it is happening in the private space, that you might as well do it inside of an institution, and potentially to be more accessible. You know what I mean? I think it’s very complex.

MT: Yeah, I know what you mean, but I’m not sure. With the situation today, around COVID regulations, we see actually, that it was never like this.

MUSIC

ST: I think you’re completely right. Also, what you said earlier about this shift, that is not so much about East and West, but about the general economic development and the shift to privatization when it comes to to public space. There’s rarely public space left or public space is getting smaller and smaller, everywhere you go. And probably even more so in former Eastern Bloc countries than in former Western countries, because of the turbo neoliberal shifts that have taken place there.

Selma, do you have any experience with that? Or any kind of thoughts?

SS: I do but I don’t want to interrupt you. I’m coming from this other perspective, where I did a lot of performances in public spaces, but on my own. Because many institutions would never stand by me, because all my work would be too dangerous for the society. So I had to take responsibility for all my performances, for example, when I destroyed the Mercedes. So they gave me the space outside [and said], “you’re responsible if it’s going to blow up,” right. I was like, “okay, no problem. I’m doing this on a daily basis, it’s not going to explode.” And then, I remember, when I was supposed to do a performance in Austria, at the Kunsthalle, I also asked whether I could destroy the Mercedes outside with my family. They said, “We cannot put you in in the middle of the museum inside, neither outside… or we could put you outside, but we have to build a fence around you.” And I’m like, I’m not an animal to be in a fence. So I always have these problems. And also for documenta this year, I wanted to destroy a private jet. But they said the government has to agree with this performance. And I’m like, “Okay, what is art today?” I think art itself has become too private. Because when you think about the museums and galleries, everything is too commercial. Everything is about the specific audiences, even the work outside, the public spaces, the works which are about activism. Activism is not any more about activism. It’s about social media. It’s about who’s going to get more likes. So this is the world in which we live now, unfortunately. And I, to be honest, haven’t seen any good works in public space recently because everything became too much capitalistic because this is what we are now. And unfortunately, we as artists depend on this art world, which doesn’t make any more sense. Because when you think who are the artists that are really successful, who are the artists that are constantly exhibiting, it is always like this privileged white men.

ST: I think even if you look back at history, you know, a lot of artists have done actual performances by themselves without institutional backing. And those are actually the most interesting ones. Because I think as soon as you get involved with a larger body, it changes it completely. And you can’t do whatever you want to do, because there’s this control mechanism. So I think that the only option in a way to just do it. And these works will take their part in art history. I mean, there are so many examples of this.

MT: Yeah, Sandra, on one hand, you’re right. But on the other hand … I worked a lot around this. So looking now, at artworks that were possible 20 years ago, 30 years ago, or 15 years ago, they are not possible anymore. And not because they’re dangerous… But I liked so much how Selma explained this; it’s so beautiful. How putting, you know, fences around you like you are really an animal. So it’s something that is completely controlled. What I wanted to say is also about the labor that is being paid in a different way. It’s about that, how public space can be used, not just because it is privatized, but because there’s so many regulations. And what is interesting, and, I think, Selma and I, we have the same experience, in a way, even though we are coming from different backgrounds, even though from the same place, actually, because I grew up in Zenica, in Bosnia. So just to explain this, in the Western art world, there is this idea that democracy enables the free space for art. And that in this free space, anything can happen. But this space is also very limited and very controlled by curators, by the institution. And with the time, with this development of capitalism as it is now, it is coming more and more advanced, closer, smaller. When you have this space, which is called a free space of art, it doesn’t have a strong impact on society. Because you say, “Okay, aha, they’re doing this, but this is just art; it’s not dangerous. We don’t take this seriously.” We don’t see that there can be a huge influence on the society that can change maybe a view of those who are looking at this and who are the audience. But what is happening in the world that is not part of the democratic world, is that art is really taken seriously, and that it has these dangerous forms where art is being destroyed; artists are in jails, you know. This is really an interesting moment, how democracy on the one hand controls art … in these autocratic societies it happens as well. But they take art seriously. So it’s an interesting development, you know, how this frame of art functions differently.

MUSIC

MT: Back to ifa.

ST: Back to ifa. Thinking about ifa, what would your expectations or hope be of an organization like ifa, what it could be in the future, or how it could act in the future, what it could provide in the future.

SS: For me personally, I am about to discover that because I just started working with them. And so far, it’s very sustainable because somehow when you think about the next seven years, you exactly know what’s going to happen. You are taken care of. And they’re really taking care of each artist that this artist is healthy and that this artist can produce the work. And plus, on top of that, you get a support to do the projects which you just imagined to do. So for me that, at this point of my age, really works.

MUSIC

ST: ifa has been, and still is, a space to invite different discourses and different positions because it always has a director for the specific gallery but that director has always invited other colleagues to curate, to organize different shows, with with a specific focus.

MT: Yeah, maybe this is a good example. Because Bojana Pejić was invited as a curator. And then she invited another curator to take part who was locally involved. And she wanted to focus on specific artists. But then she invited the curator who could work with these artists directly. And Bojana Pejić and Dejan Sretenović were working together. So we were a product of this exhibition, a product of a more complex collaboration, and not about, you know, having a great curatorial name, who then just makes, you know, a big exhibition that actually is part of that what I said colonialized [context]. So we come in from Eastern Europe and from the war and the conflict zone being actually colonized by the Western audience and institutions that are art institutions in the Western countries. With ifa I can say, maybe, because also of this role of this institution that works with international artists, it was different; it was very much based on, you know, changing your perspective. Who looks from where. So it was more about collaboration.

ST: Yeah, and I think the show that you’re part, Selma, also reflects that, from what you’ve said.

SS: It’s exactly what Milica said. It’s about artists themselves that are more important than curators. And it’s not about making the differences between the artists who are exhibiting because there are so many international artists. We are at the same [level]; each of us has the same opportunity. So that’s something that I really like. And this is the first time that I feel equal to other artists, regardless of the age, regardless of the nationality, regardless of where they’re coming from. When we had the opening, a lot of journalists came. And they had interviews with all artists. And they also asked me, “How do you feel that you have the chance to meet all these famous artists?” And I was like, wow, how do they feel to meet me? You know, so it was very funny because people in Sarajevo, they were still thinking about local artists as lower artists not as equals. So I think with this show, what ifa is doing is showing the equality between all of us.

ST: Thank you Milica, thank you Selma, for this insightful conversation. Obviously, we only scratched the surface of rather pivotal questions regarding art and its function within and beyond the institution. But I hope it gave you, the listeners, an idea of both of the artists’ practice and the context that they are and were working in. 

As mentioned in the intro, please also check out the bonus track by Astrit Ismaili of which fragments accompanied this conversation.

I would like to thank Inka Gressel and Susanne Weiss for the invitation, Ev Fischer and Stefano Ferlito for the general support, and Kolbeinn Hugi for post-production and additional sound.

Past –> Present #2
ifa Gallery Berlin at 30 feat. Övül Ö. Durmuşoğlu, Vasif Kortun and Banu Çiçek Tülü

To celebrate 30 years of ifa Gallery Berlin, this podcast brings together artistic and curatorial positions associated with the gallery since its founding in 1991.

Using the gallery’s program as a reference point, selected guests converse with Sandra Teitge about its thematic focal points over the last 30 years. In contrast to many West German cultural institutions of the time, ifa Gallery Berlin concentrated early, throughout the 1990s, on collaborations with artists and curators from Eastern and Southern Europe. How have artistic approaches, curatorial practices and working methods changed over the years? And what is the situation regarding public space, which historically has been more actively incorporated into artistic practices in Eastern and Southern Europe? Does it still provide scope for action in the region? The podcast links these and similar questions to wider contemporary issues and gives a voice to local artists and cultural practitioners.

For the second episode of Past –> Present, Sandra Teitge speaks with Berlin-based curator, writer, and educator Övül Ö. Durmusoglu and Vasif Kortun, one of the most influential figures in the Turkish and, in fact, international art and cultural scene. The two of them will converse about their respective work with and beyond ifa in Germany and Turkey; their exchange is accompanied by an audio contribution by the Berlin-based musician and artist Banu Çiçek Tülü.

Concept: Sandra Teitge

Music: Kolbeinn Hugi

Sound editing: Kolbeinn Hugi

Thanks: Ev Fischer, Stefano Ferlito, Inka Gressel, Susanne Weiss

Welcome to Past –> Present

I’m Sandra Teitge, Berlin-born and based curator and researcher, and the moderator of this podcast.

Past –> Present brings together artistic and curatorial positions associated with the ifa-gallery since its founding in 1991. Using the gallery’s program as a reference point, I will converse with a group of guests about ifa’s general ethos and research interests in the early 90s and today. 

What’s the relevance of cultural institutions that foster artistic & cultural exchange, such as ifa, back then and now (especially in times of rising nationalism and cultural isolation)? 

In contrast to many West German cultural institutions of the time, the ifa Gallery Berlin concentrated early, throughout the 1990s, on collaborations with artists and curators from Eastern and Southern Europe. How have artistic approaches, curatorial practices and working methods changed over the years? And what is the situation regarding public space, which historically has been more actively incorporated into artistic practices in Eastern and Southern Europe? 

This podcast links these and similar questions to wider contemporary issues and offers a podium to artists and cultural practitioners affiliated with ifa at some point in their career. 

Today, for this second episode of Past –> Present, I’m very happy to welcome and give the floor to Berlin-based curator, writer, and educator Övül Ö. Durmusoglu and to Vasif Kortun, one of the most influential figures in the Turkish and, in fact, international art & cultural scene who is talking to us from his home in a sea-side town along the coast of Turkey. The two of them will converse about their respective work with and beyond ifa; their exchange is accompanied by an audio contribution by the Berlin-based musician and artist Banu Cicek Tülü, also available as a bonus track.

Övül Ö. Durmuşoğlu lives and works in or, rather, from Berlin. Her interests lie in the intersection of contemporary art, politics, critical and gender theory and popular culture. As a curator, she acts between exhibition-making and public programming, singular languages and collective energies, material and immaterial abstractions, worldly immersions and political cosmologies. Her most recent curatorial projects are the 12th Survival Kit in Riga and the 3rd Autostrada Biennale entitled What if a Journey… that ran from July to mid September of this year in Prishtina, Prizren and Peja (Kosovo).

For ifa, Övül curated the group show Another Country | Eine andere Welt in 2010, an exhibition in the frame of the series Cultural Transfers, which was an exploration of the migration of forms, contexts, and artistic strategies. It was her introduction to Germany and its cultural scene where she subsequently decided to live and work and simultaneously the beginning of her research into the exilic position. 

Övul will be conversing with Vasif Kortun, described as “an unabashed power broker” in the Istanbul cultural scene.

Vasif is a curator, writer and teacher in the field of contemporary visual art, its institutions, and spatial practices. He is currently a research and curatorial advisor to Mathaf: Arab Museum of Modern Art in Doha and, in the past, was the founding director of Research & Programs of SALT, an interdisciplinary cultural institution based in Turkey with innovative programs for research and experimental thinking. 

He was also the founding director of a number of institutions including the Platform Garanti Contemporary Art Center, İstanbul Museum of Contemporary Art and the Museum of the Center for Curatorial Studies, Bard College, in the United States. 

His projects are too many to list; Vasif has worked on numerous biennales including Taipei Biennale, the São Paulo Biennial (1998), and the Istanbul Biennial, for which his 2004 ifa-exhibition entitled STADTanSICHTEN. Istanbul (URBANreVIEWS), an exhibition as part of the series URBANreVIEWS, was actually one of the stations or testing grounds for this upcoming 2005 Istanbul Biennial. It focused on individual megalopolises from the perspectives of urban planning, sociology, communication and aesthetics, and took into account the respective cultural landscape. 

Banu Çiçek Tülü’s practice navigates between sound, music, research and activism using DJ’ing as an artistic form. Born in South-East Turkey and based in Berlin, Banu’s illegal rave experience defined her taste in experimental electronic music – mainly techno. She believes in the political possibilities of sound and music, and utilizes both as an empowerment tool for different communities and minority groups. Banu has been supported by Musicboard Berlin and is a fellow in the Namibia Program at Akademie Schloss Solitude, Stuttgart/Germany where also Övül was a fellow – many years ago.

***

ST: Welcome both of you to this podcast. Thanks for joining. I’m very happy that this worked out. You are both back at your respective homes after being in Kosovo together, actually, last week. And you both also saw Övül’s exhibition, which we can talk later a little more about perhaps. First, since this conversation is connected to ifa and the exhibitions that both of you organised and curated there a few years ago, let’s start by talking about those two shows to give people a little bot of context. So, maybe, Vasif, you could start with explaining when it took place, who was involved, also from ifa’s side, how it got there, what the experience was.

VK: It’s a good question. It was so many years ago but I can still imagine a trajectory that led to that exhibition because I was working on Istanbul, the city and the city practices, and the transformation of the city, as well. And it started with an exhibition in 2001 at Proje4L, which was Istanbul’s first contemporary art museum or Kunsthalle type institution. At the time it was called Becoming a Place.

ÖD: I remember that exhibition very well. It was a very important exhibition for me, too.

VK: Oh yeah. Good. Thanks. And then, after that there was, along the way, that exhibition in Stuttgart and Berlin. And some artists of the Becoming a Place exhibition also took part in this show like Erik Göngrich and Seçil Yersel – but not all of them. I didn’t curate the exhibition by myself as I recall; I did get some support, assistance, and help from Pelin Tan and a few other colleagues. And then, eventually, in 2005, it led to the Istanbul Biennial whose name was Istanbul. So it was kind of a station on the road to test things out and to see how it works. I think I installed the Stuttgart version but I don’t remember installing the Berlin exhibition, actually.

ÖD: Maybe it was installed in Stuttgart and then travelled to Berlin and the team in Berlin installed it according to your instructions, most probably. Because mine was like that. And I used the occasion to come to Berlin. I was still at Akademie Schloss Solitude for a residency so for me it was easier.

ST: So maybe you can talk a little bit about your show, Övül?

ÖD: Sure. The exhibition Another Country / Eine andere Welt was actually the reason I came to Germany in the first place. I was doing research, a trainee ship at the Dia Art Foundation in New York working with Lynne Cooke. That was finishing and I remember the proposal that arrived from ifa. And I managed to come at some point in between to see Stuttgart and to see the residency, if I would like to get it or not. [So shortly] after that I [organized] the exhibition [at ifa] when I was in Stuttgart doing the residency at Akademie Schloss Solitude. This was also an anniversary project for both of the institutions. And I used the occasion, basically, to relocate to Berlin, when the exhibition was moving to Berlin. And here I am, on and off, still in Berlin, somehow.

ST: How many years later?

ÖD: 10 years later, I’m still here, somehow. I travelled all around. And, of course, I wasn’t in Berlin all this period. But [the ifa show] was my introduction to Germany. I never thought I would have worked in Germany or that I would have chosen Germany as my base in Europe.

10:17-10:44 SOUND

ST: Great. And, Vasif, you hinted at the fact that [your exhibition] was a step towards the Istanbul Biennial and the idea was also to bring Istanbul’s public space into Stuttgart and Berlin’s gallery space, right? Övül, you just recently finished working in public space with the Autostrada Biennial. So maybe we could talk a little bit about this notion of “art in public space” and how you approach it in your work. How has it changed over the years, especially in Istanbul. Vasif, you have worked so extensively in the city, many times, within institutions but also in public space. Maybe we could talk about that.

VK: That’s a good question. Maybe Övül can answer that so much better than I can. I don’t start with questions of public space or gallery space or exhibition space. Those are not the a priori concerns that have ever been of interest to me. I should be very clear about that. I start with the problem first and then try to see if it’s for public space or for the gallery space or for the digital space or it’s an archival project or a book or a publication or whatnot. And also my failure in dealing with these projects is that I have a problem with commissions. I like to do things when I really like to do them. And with commissions most of the time I really fail. There is something missing. There is something that just doesn’t work well. If somebody asks you to do an exhibition, you are like “yeah, ok”…

ÖD: Maybe to continue the thread that Vasif is following I would say that is also a little similar to me. Because in my practice I work more with publicness than with ‘art in public space.’ My concern is more about notions of publicness and how they differ and where are the conflicts that are happening. I’m actually interested in that most of the time. And sometimes it happens in city spaces and sometimes it happens in the galleries equally, in institutional spaces. So also the concern here for me is more about the publicness and the free space and the notions of democracy at the same time, in the very background, in a more general framework. Also in an unexpected way, the first project I realized before naming my work as curatorial work was inviting visual artists to exercise street art practices in Istanbul and about its exotic identity and it was called Exocity. It was a very beautiful exercise for me that introduced me to contemporary art curating. And so the road follows. Also in that project I was inspired by Becoming a Place. I was inspired to see the conflicts of public space and how it can be broken in different ways.

SOUND 14:51-15:47

VK: The discussion, of course, is context-bound and situation-specific. In a way, I would be very pressed to call Istanbul’s outside spaces public spaces. The terminology doesn’t even exist in Turkish. We have different words that we use for ‘public space’ but they all have legal frames rather than ‘publicness.’ Of course, it’s never a given. Each time it, [public space] has to be invented and re-invented and re-inscribed. That’s for sure. At the same time, the Turkish situation, as probably in most Muslim societies, too, if I could make a broad generalization, from Palestine to other places, the notion of public space is wrought with problems. In Turkey, a university campus, for example, is not a public space. So we can go on and on with that. So what we are dealing with always is other kinds of issues, very specific kinds of issues dealing with what ‘public’ constitutes.

ÖD: Just out of curiosity, may I ask if you remember the experience, how did it feel for you to place such a research at that point in Germany about Istanbul? Because you were taking a very particular political position. This [research] was also introducing a different political position [with regards] to the notions around Turkey in Germany, as well, let’s say. If you could say a few words. I would be very curious to hear [more about] that.

VK: I wasn’t thinking of Germany to be very frank with you. I know Stuttgart a little bit. I’ve been there a hundred times or so because my father was working for a charter plane company that flew Turkish workers between Istanbul, Izmir, and Stuttgart. So I was quite familiar with the strange airport, the bags of the workers, the negotiations of the everyday etc. Stuttgart for me was a place to learn, to see art. It may not be for other people but there was that kind of museum, that lineage of museums, on the other side of the street. All of that was very important to me. So it wasn’t ‘Germany, Germany’ that I was thinking of. Also it wasn’t Turkish-German citizens who were living in Stuttgart that I was thinking of. I find that, especially in our days, the 2000s, it is a preposterous idea to imagine that you would get Turkish [visitors through an exhibition like mine]. It would have also been abusive notion [in general]: you get the Turks when there is a Turkish exhibition and then next month is Chilean [artists] so you try to get the Chilean workers. And I find that in European institutions to be systemically abused. It wasn’t in the Stuttgart case, certainly not. There wasn’t such a premise and we weren’t fed Döner Kebaps at lunch or dinner. So that was very nice. Nobody was trying to make you feel in…, you know, all of that. It was just the end of those days. Just to come back. Perhaps if I can tie it to another story. Övül, you know it very well. I think you know this story.

SOUND 20:02-20:32

VK: In 1990, I went on a tour of Germany with a huge package of artists from Turkey in my bag. It was before I started to make exhibitions. And the idea was that there are some great artists and whatever artists in Turkey, as well. And ifa was one of these situations on my horizon. And at that time I could not even get a meeting. I wasn’t let in the door of ifa, basically. And that had a very bitter feeling at the time for me. I was vengeful; I was angry. They were not doing their work [in my mind]. This was also two years before I curated the Istanbul Biennial. And to tie these two things together: at one place I wasn’t able to get a meeting; in the second place, which was the Istanbul Biennial, Germany offered me an artist, an important artist, of course, which had nothing to do with my exhibition concept, with my brief, with my discussion etc. So I said, also with the ifa story in the background, “sorry, you are not in the exhibition.” And imagine, a country like Germany being told to go away from the Istanbul Biennial. That was that. But we had to level with the situation and that’s how you level with the situation. I don’t mean that it’s a colonizing approach but it’s a very West-European style of teaching other people of how they should act and behave and what they should like and not. Things that come out of good packages and good boxes always are put up without question – and that’s what you get. That’s what Beral Madra had to deal with in the 1987 and 1989 exhibitions… and all the exhibitions from 1974 onwards within the context of the Istanbul Foundation for Culture that later did the Biennial. Things came out of boxes. You never had an idea. You were never allowed to have an idea. So in a way that was that. Things happened. This kind of levelling is good because it sets for a more appropriate proper relationship for the future. It didn’t help me but it helped the future. So anyway, it was 1999 that Iris Lenz came to a small institution I had founded in Istanbul. It was called ICAP, Istanbul Contemporary Art Project, which was basically a room, two rooms, but it was quite a tiny place. It was one of the initiatives that I ran in those days; I did some publishing and all kinds of crazy things… and they came. ifa came to my door. I said, “That’s it. Now we can talk. Now we are even.” And of course I welcomed them. That’s how the relationship started and developed. But that is [also] the story of another time, obviously. It has all the markers of a different period. It doesn’t apply today. We are way beyond that.

ÖD: But it’s also important to remember where we are coming from and the issues and the questions that were dealt with by the previous generation in order to come to the questions we are having [or dealing with] today.

VK: Exactly. It sounds banal today, even the whole story. Because it is not as sophisticated or it doesn’t [involve] the sophisticated questions of today. It is more fundamental.

ÖD: But Germany and Turkey, of course, have this particular relationship, in terms of cultural networks. Germany has always been the place where a lot of contemporary art from Turkey has been shown. Of course, there is also the position of Rene Block who came and did extensive research and helped many artists from Turkey to become international artists. So that internationality passed through Germany. There is always this interesting relationship, not only the Gastarbeiter question; there are various levels, various phases of cultural relations between Turkey and Germany. This has been also kind of critical. Before France or Belgium or the Netherlands, it was Germany [that initiated] crossovers, encounters. Of course, that was also the reason for why it was important for me to accept the residency and to come and work in Stuttgart, start in Stuttgart and to develop the exhibition that I did departing from James Baldwin’s novel Another Country – imagining another country. It was a point when I had already moved from Turkey for my own political reasons and I was looking for another country myself. And when I read James Baldwin’s novel in New York it touched me very deeply. And, of course, it was a novel that was finished in Istanbul. That was my connection to the ifa exhibition, also looking at previous exhibitions and programming so far –I came in a time when there was a different direction and different projects with Elke aus dem Moore– I really wanted to bring in this concept of creating another country in a country that we are taking our work to, where we can hear each other and where we can love. That’s also one of the things in James Baldwin’s novel, as well, with a very heavy Black struggle background. And why I decided to go for a very diverse group exhibition, it also has been one of the first exhibitions [of this kind] at ifa, in the ifa galleries. I wanted to break with [this approach of] someone coming from a [specific] region and always deal with this [very] region or come with the questions of this region. That was on my mind very clearly when I was devising the show. I wanted to break the prejudice before the prejudice arrived.

SOUND 28:30-29:00

ST: To look at ifa’s side of this conversation, it is definitely true that the whole approach changed over the years. And we were also talking in the last podcast with Kathrin Becker and Dmitry Vilensky about the fact that because of the time, because there wasn’t Internet everywhere and not everyone was able to research so broadly and internationally that the approach had to be more of a step-by-step one: going to one country, research, and find artists etc. So everything was much slower. So all these factors played into this fact that in the end there were these more ‘national’ exhibitions. But now with the new directorship of Alya Sebti [ifa gallery Berlin], for example, it’s become a very different dynamic.

ÖD: Yes, it’s beautiful to see. But as a I said, it was not necessarily that the prejudice was expressed or done; it was more for me to really create that position as someone coming from a stigmatized country, in Germany – there is this complicated relationship; it’s a bit different than with other countries. And also there is something still going on in different cultural institutions that one is expected to work with Turkish artists only or to work with diaspora problems constantly; these kinds of projects are supported with general funding. This is a question that I have been raising for quite some time in Germany, working internationally in Germany, what does it mean to be in such a position and to be able to claim a different cultural and intellectual ground, a little bit like creating an awareness about these set of rules that are almost invisible but working constantly. And, of course, things are moving on and are evolving in very good ways, and also are part of education, so [therefore] structurally. Now in UdK and Braunschweig, for example, I see the discussions and questions that are being raised. They are very important questions that institutions are asking themselves and I see it as very very healthy.

VK: That’s so true. It’s interesting that in a way, the idea of it being stigmatized does not an outside interference. You approach certain situations with that stigma even if the person in front of you may not have that approach. It has been what it is. But then again, I would imagine that the frame of a country is a frame as good as any other, in a way [for an exhibition]. I wouldn’t uphold this argument. But I’m saying it just for the sake of our discussion. We are never outside our time. But what are the misgivings of the present? What are we missing now? What are we overlooking at this moment? What kind of power networks are we plugged in and can unplug from etc etc. I think those are legitimate questions to ask again. But I agree with you. For me, these exhibitions that I did outside were not for me, there were for the artists. Because I spent so many years, before I returned to Turkey, outside to establish myself not as a person from Turkey but as who I am. Then, I went back to Turkey to use that leverage. I never wanted to be the ‘agent from Istanbul’ etc. etc. That was at the time a hard role to take. Because it happens that you become the ‘person from Istanbul.’ But it was never my intention.

ST: Vasif, did you always know that you would want to go back to Istanbul or to Turkey and work in situ and establish institutions there?

VK: You know, I work in my own little world, my own mind. I was offered documenta twice and I turned it down both times. Because I’m not interested in making big exhibitions outside of the country [Turkey]. I really wanted to go back because I wanted to start an institution –and it took a long time to start– with a research component, with a great library, with all the things I missed when I was growing up. [An institution] that we could build a new situation, a new ecology for the younger generation. This sounds very cheesy right now but that was my big ambition, to have a great library, great archives. It was a no brainer. I got offered to become the director of the Boston ICA and the same night, me and my wife we decided to go back to Istanbul. Because if I had gotten into that kind of operation, I would have never gotten out of it, you know. And that would have not been a life worth spent for me because I am really devoted to Turkey. That’s why I’m also not leaving it now with all the reasons to leave this goddamn place.

ÖD: But I also do think, I may be mistaken, but I see the generation that constructed the cultural spaces of Istanbul in the 1990s, in the 2000s, had a similar ambition, with all these different figures. They wanted to come back and invest in the city. They wanted to create another Istanbul. It was possible for a long time. It is just receding to another horizon now. But it was there. From my side, I feel very lucky to have grown up with that when I was studying at university in Istanbul. It contributed so much to my personal horizon and my view of the world. And it’s interesting to see today how the things we take for granted today is thanks to those before us who decided to come and to construct these grounds; it is such a luxury from the position of today. It’s interesting to see that, also, how certain things have their time and they create this very memorable effect; those 20 years in Istanbul are quite memorable.

SOUND 36:55-37:38

VK: The generation that was able to do this kind of work was not exiled. They were not exilic. They were not forced out of the country with people chasing them out. [People were] being chased out after 2016 or 2016 was the closure of all possibilities hence is the reason for so many artists and colleagues [leaving]. [It is] a new generation, the generation that comes right after you, Övül. So the situation has changed a little bit but the exodus is quite real and I don’t know what will come out it. Right now, it looks very depressing because they are stuck in a time [capsule] of 2016 and we are already in 2021. But the exilic is always stuck in a time [capsule], unfortunately. That’s what happened to Turkish artists in Germany in the 1970s. They were also stuck; they were ghetto-ized. The new ones are self-ghetto-izing.

ÖD: Exactly. It’s a kind of comfort-zone behaviour that kicks in, without intention. It’s really happening.

VK: It’s a great project to do, a new project for ifa!

ÖD: One also needs to say that [this discussion] touches on the general situation of the world, how [in general] the balance is functioning. There are certain countries that are rendered impossible. And they don’t deserve it. As we see today with Afghanistan, as an extreme example. It’s part of that operation that forces a lot of artists and cultural workers to come and live only in certain [cultural] centers. And they are able to do that only now. I think Berlin has now a scene that developed out of this. You see all of these different migrant communities that are coming to establish themselves here, for example the Arabic-speaking population, that never existed in this way [and is] culturally and politically very active and very visible. And, of course, also this new generation of artists from Turkey with a different voice, with different concerns, with a different profile.

VK: Are they talking to each other?

ÖD: Sometimes. But not all the time. I think these conversations will take longer [to develop.] I think there are stronger ties amongst the Spanish- and Arabic-speaking communities as far as I see. But this the situation, really. I have also been discussing this with another colleague of mine, Ana Teixeira Pinto, who is from Lisbon and who has lived in Berlin for a very long time, that this is the situation. We may like to work and live back [in our cities or countries] but we don’t have the space to exercise our visions. There aren’t spaces as such [there]. So it is the [Berlin cultural] scene that we are giving the best we can and receiving responses or trying to get better responses.

ST: Spaces are also being founded in Berlin that support these communities.

ÖD: Exactly. There are different forms of solidarity models that are growing very strong. It is not about that. It is more about how the balance in the world culturally functions towards certain centers and that the places where these exilic communities are coming from cannot be invested in culturally. Certainly, that can be said for Egypt. Trying to constantly exercise their voices to defend their communities back in Egypt. It’s an interesting panorama. Culturally, it is giving a lot to Berlin. And [the city] has never has been so plurivocal. That was always my hesitation after realizing the [ifa] exhibition. It was too white for me to stay so I always tried to get out. But at a certain point I also realized the there is a new scene growing that it is much more plurivocal, with different concerns creating their beautiful experiments and confrontations. So that’s how I decided to stay.

SOUND 43:11-48

ÖD: The artistic community, for example, that lives in my neighborhood for example but that never speaks to each other because of the way we are all working inside but always outside the city; how to come back to each other and remember our collectivity with all of its problems and all of its concerns. It’s not a fully rosy picture. But it’s very important to attempt it, especially when publicness is gaining a new meaning though the pandemic and through the digital conversations we are having. Of course, it’s another excess towards the world. But still, in our places where we are living we need to remember to talk to each other in a much more straight forward effort and also, to claim the streets. It’s always very important to claim the streets.

ST: And to [slowly] wrap this up –I know this is a very interesting conversation. Maybe this is exactly what institutions like ifa can do, to provide a space without having an agenda, to create a neutral space for these communities to come together. I worked for the Goethe Institut and ifa and Goethe are somewhat related. And the Goethe has managed in situations that were very dramatic, like in Beirut during the Civil War, to provide these spaces for people to either find shelter or to come together as a community. That probably is the best future scenarios for institutions like ifa.

ÖD: I agree. And coming back to the beginning of the conversation, to really undo and unlearn those existing baggages that are coming from Western institutions because they didn’t disappear; they are there. But, of course, all of these forms of conversations and where they are taking us make institutions leave more of these baggages behind. But there is still work to do there. It doesn’t matter whether its name is ‘decolonial’ or not. It’s important to leave these baggages behind.

VK: And structurally.

ÖD: Yes, structurally

ST: Most importantly.

Thank you both very much. Thank you, Övül. Thank you, Vasif.
 OUTRO As mentioned in the intro, please also check out the bonus track produced by Banu Cicek Tülü of which fragments accompanied this conversation. Please also stay tuned for one more episode in this series Past –> Present that we are currently planning to broadcast in early winter of this year.  I would like to thank Inka Gressel and Susanne Weiss for the invitation, Ev Fischer and Stefano Ferlito for the general support and Kolbeinn Hugi for post-production and additional sound.  I hope to meet all of you back here in a few months.

Claudia Andrea Gotta and Karen Michelsen Castañón reflect on “The Listening and the Winds” #2

In this second podcast episode historian, teacher and activist Claudia Andrea Gotta and artist Karen Michelsen Castañón discuss aspects of the exhibition Listening and the Winds related to the textiles produced by the women’s weaving collective Thañí/Viene del monte and in particular converse about the relationsship between textiles, testimonies and territories. English translation: JD Pluecker German translation: Luisa Donnerberg Music: Marcelo Berrini

https://soundcloud.com/user-803422726/claudia-andrea-gotta-and-karen-michelsen-castanon-in-conversation-episode-2

K: Welcome to this second podcast episode. We have come together to have a conversation that begins with the exhibition La escucha y los vientos [Listening and the Winds] at the ifa Gallery in Berlin. Claudia, today we are going to focus on the elements of the show that have to do with the textiles in the exhibition, particularly the woven pieces produced by the women’s weaving collective Thañí/Viene del monte/Comes From the Brushlands. The weavers call these fabrics SILAT, or messages. We can think of these fabrics that unfold in the space of the exhibit as extended nets. The women participating in the exhibit tell the story of these nets in the exhibit brochure; they come from the interwoven bags that in Quechua are known as llicas, and these bags are used while traveling to collect and store things. Indeed, the word can also refer to the fine threads of a spiderweb. What is the relationship then between the llica—this woven bag—and the territories where it is woven?

C: The interwoven fibers of the bags, of these llicas, of these objects that have other uses in daily life, they are made by hand by women and in some cases by men—in some towns women do not always do the weaving—and within the weft and the weave are interwoven forms of ancestral knowledge, which are still possible because there is still chaguar fiber available, because there are still fibers in the native brushlands. This is also a form of struggle. It is not possible to continue making these works if the brushlands are destroyed, and making these bags—used for a variety of purposes depending on their size and the person carrying them—will no longer be necessary if it is no longer possible to go out searching in these different territories for the things that Mother Earth provides us. So then, the bags that are on display there are a living reminder of this, of these fabricator’s hands, of the messages that are continually renewed and that in many cases are the legacy of a long chain of generations that not only have taught others to weave, but also to communicate through the weavings, but that above all they are finding a reason for being, not just in terms of carrying messages but also for utilitarian purposes. These peoples are hunters, gatherers, and fisherpeople, with a form of fishing that entails something more similar to gathering or hunting than what we understand in our societies as fishing. They can continue using them if only the white man—who has positioned himself above all other expressions of life—ceases to invade their territories. If not, the bags will no longer have a reason to exist. In these objects, we come face to face with a society that resists a hegemonic model, that co-exists in a territory with the other life forms. A society that although it cannot fight, it actually does not desire to fight against the hegemonic model, a society that wants to continue living in community in communal territories and communally.

K: The women’s weaving collective Thañí/Viene del monte/Comes From the Brushlands is also part of the association Lhaka Honhat/Nuestra tierra/Our Earth and—according to the exhibit brochure, “has been struggling for the last 30 years for recognition of communal property, for those who have always lived in this territory.” In March of last year, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights ruled in favor in this case of Lhaka Honhat. So then, what does this decision mean for these territories and the communities that live within them?

C: First of all, this organization is pan-communitarian, we could call it, because not only is it comprised of an important number of communities that exceed 130 in number—I believe it is 132 or 133—but also it contains a group that is significant because it is pluri-ethnic, it is multi-ethnic because it contains five indigenous or original peoples in the province of Salta, located in the northwestern part of our country. The nations that are present there are the Wichí, the Qom, the Tapiete, the Chulupí or Nivaclé and the Chorote. These five peoples—who each one have their own names for themselves in each one of their languages and several also have different names for their neighbors (but these are the most well-known names)—all of them are present in this organization, Lhaka Honhat, and in this emblematic case that marked such an important moment at the beginning of last year with the definitive verdict of the IACHR. After this definitive verdict in March 2020 in this case known as 12094, the case of Lhaka Honhat at the Inter-American Court, became a paradigmatic event, but we know almost nothing about the concrete advances made, because this took place in the beginning of this huge standstill in all aspects of our lives brought on by the arrival of COVID-19 across all the territories of the planet. I think that, or I consider, because above all this is an analysis, that the case of Lhaka Honhat is going to be successful, but we have not yet seen the results because we are in this critical moment of change. But we cannot stop thinking that this is going to be an almost spasm-like event in the wider context in which the pandemic itself allowed for the continuation of the on-going destruction of all the territories that were inhabited ancestrally and continue to be inhabited, and whose rights are unalienable and unquestionable in terms of all the indigenous peoples who inhabit the territory of my country. We can think about this across the length of the entirety of Abya Yala and this has to do with the fact that the bulldozers, the trucks, the usurpers, the landowners did not stop. They did not stop during the whole of 2020, but rather continued invading, dismantling, clearcutting, repressing and even, all of the local authorities were backing these actions, because if indigenous people protested by taking over a roadway or going to town to denounce the activities, they were sanctioned for violating the quarantine orders, but the men with the power and the money were never sanctioned for their activities. So this is what is especially worrisome for us. Even though the success of Lhaka Honhat at the IACHR is a victory for all of us involved in this struggle, we have to continue to be cautious in terms of, on the one hand, continuing to emphasize this victory, but without losing track of the reality that prevails in all of the other Indigenous territories that have surely taken the case of Lhaka Honhat as an example to strengthen their own internal organization, because the victory of Lhaka Honhat is no credit to the IACHR. The IACHR has only done what it has to do. The credit should go to the complex and really legitimate organization of Lhaka Honhat, that not only brings together an important number of players and communities, but which has also taken up the possible instruments and has not sold out its own rights. Because this is also what must be valued, to continue thinking with the actual criteria established by Indigenous politics, about what is actually meant by traditional rights and a life in harmony with other forms of life. These are all of the elements that they have thought so deeply about at the moment when—following the requirements imposed by the law and hegemonic power structure—they defend their own rights, and this is what we must celebrate and provide as an example, but it is a struggle that in many other territories is still on the horizon. Because the advancement of these forces that have objectified and commercialized life is a constant all across the territories of Abya Yala. We can see it just by traveling through the territories where previously what predominated was wildness, vibrancy, the sounds of nature; now these same spaces are crisscrossed by cement, large infrastructure projects, all at the service of the commercialization of so-called natural resources, which actually for us are communal property. These are the gifts of Mother Earth given to us so that we might be able to live well.

K: Thank you, Claudia. Could you talk about a few historical precedents in terms of the legal process of recognition of Indigenous communal property for these territories in particular?

C: Yes, of course. In order for our listeners to perhaps have a more complete accounting, we should say that this region—as in all of Abya Yala—was actually always inhabited by these peoples, from time immemorial. And what begins to be seen at the start of the twentieth century, particularly at the beginning of the 1910s, is the arrival of a significant number of criollos (people of European descent) to the region, and these criollos begin to impose their own production models. This begins to give rise to conflicts just as in all the regions of Abya Yala. Some took place during the actual process of invasion, but others arose much later, as is the case in our country where it has taken decades for this to become visible. In 1966, I think, or in the 1960s, in that province, as in many others, the first reservations for Indigenous peoples were created. This is a process that one must get to know because the state begins to record the conflicts, though of course in terms that are always plagued with colonialism and racism, but it cannot ignore it all and some measures must be implemented. So in the 1960s in the face of these developments and this conflict between criollos and Indigenous peoples, the state begins to create Indigenous reservations. Then by the 1970s, at the very beginning of that decade, one of the lots—Lot 55—that is involved in the conflict, known by the name of the Indigenous commission Lhaka Honhat, is declared by a decree to be an Indigenous reservation. This is the first point that must be remembered. When this arrives to the Inter-American Court of Human Rights in 1998, we have to think that Lot 55 was already in existence, and it was considered an Indigenous reservation ever since the 1970s. The conflict is over Lot 55 and Lot 14. Despite the existing legislation, and this must be recognized, we cannot ignore the fact that the States [in Abya Yala] have enacted legislation but the problem is that these laws are not enforced. In the early 1980s, there was an initial large gathering in Misión La Paz of 27 Indigenous leaders who are already quite conscious of the increasing criollo presence in the territory and along with this presence what also arrives is a voracious production model, and this development in the territory is extremely troubling. It is extremely troubling because they note how conditions in their territory are deteriorating, along with the harmonious relationship with Mother Nature that they had always attempted to preserve. This relationship is increasingly threatened. So then and there, they make it known that they want a definitive solution to this problem from the State and that there is no way in which they would accept the subdivision of the lots into individual properties, because they do not know the meaning of private property. This is important because this is how they posit this fact. They say that they are rooted in a relationship of harmonious dependency with nature and that on the other hand, they do not know the meaning of private property. We should emphasize the point about the word “meaning.” It is not that they do not accept its existence, but that within their culture this is not feasible. The conflict progresses through a series of moments in which national and provincial governments take an array of diverse positions. This is important to keep in mind because this conflict is part of the political changes taking place in the country. By 1991 and after multiple problems faced in the process, the possibility of being listened to becomes less and less probable. In 1991, they finally are able to achieve a certain awareness of the problem at the level of the provincial government, as they develop and present three maps, which are the result of an extraordinarily significant participatory process in the communities. And in addition, this process is also accompanied by a census of the population of these five ethnic groups in which it is demonstrated that they are greater in number than the criollos. But, in the midst of all this, there is a change in the government. Even though five days prior to the inauguration of the new national administration, the governor of Salta declares that he is going to grant Lots 55 and 14 to the communities and that he will block the activities of the criollos. This action is suspended, because the governor belongs to a party in opposition to the new national government. This is important to mention, because it makes clear how traditional state political actors hold diverging positions on claims that are simply unquestionable within the Indigenous political sphere. In 1992, in the midst of all of the commotion brought on by the Quincentenary, this complex, solid, and multiethnic organization is formed under the name of Lhaka Honhat, which means “our land.” So then, the tactic is not only to demand a definitive solution to the adjudication of these two lots and the meaning of communal property, but also to concretely denounce this highly exploitative model that pillages Mother Earth, as the market and capital bleed the brushlands dry. And then not only is there is a demand for the territory, but also efforts to denounce the indiscriminate clearcutting of woodlands, the wire fences being imposed on the landscape and the destruction of native wildlife. All of this is documented in different legal records. In 2012, there was an additional demand proffered, now based on GPS maps, in which a plethora of national and international entities join up with the Lhaka Honhat. This is crucial because this issue transcends borders. And thus finally the Inter-American Court begins to provide a response. The responses occurred at distinct moments from 1998 through 2020. Throughout these 22 years of conflict, there were moments when there could have been—we could call it—a friendly meeting-of-the-minds for the parties involved, promoted by this international organism, but nevertheless it took 22 years to reach its final ruling. By 2012, the IACHR publishes a background report that summarizes all of the rights violated by the Argentinian state, and it calls on the State to recognize definitively their rights over the more than 400,000 hectares held by these five peoples who comprise Lhaka Honhat. In addition, the Court says that the Argentinian state can no longer continue to permit deforestation and wire fences cutting through the territory. It admonishes the state to remove these wire fences and to refrain from any kind of construction work in the territory. Because remember that all of this began with an attempt to build an international bridge without previous consultation with Indigenous peoples. This consultation had to be free and informed as ordered by Convention 169 of the International Labor Organization, as well as being outlined in a plethora of national accords and legal cases, which demand governments carry out consultations prior to any construction work or project that is proposed for territories recognized as Indigenous.

K: I think it is important to add that this bridge was going to be built as part of the efforts of Mercosur.

C: Yes, of course.

K: It is a very symbolic then of the economic system you are discussing, which is still destroying these territories.

C: Yes, definitely. We can also think about what happened in the middle of the Administration of Evo Morales, long before the coup by Añez, with that highway that also was set to cross through Indigenous territory in the Isidro Sécure National Park. This is known as the conflict of the Tipnis, when the capitalist model is imposed despite the rights recognized as being held by the Indigenous peoples, because this is a territory that was receiving support from the government at the time of the Plurinational Republic of Bolivia. Despite this, a neighboring government like Brazil—which was looking for an outlet to the Pacific Ocean, even though Bolivia itself does not have one—was interested in building a highway that would cross through that territory. Here, we find the same situation: this international bridge is part of this hegemonic model that besides being backed up by Mercosur, we must also remember that the territory of Lhaka Honhat includes the border between Bolivia and Paraguay. So that bridge connected our country with these two neighboring nations, but the lines were traced on our territory in accordance with the needs of the market and capital. The same thing happens when we insist that the river is not a hidrovía [hydroway], it is not a highway made out of water for ships to pass through. These territories are territories of life and that is the frame used by Lhaka Honhat for their defense. We also have to say this now, because we are in a great struggle around the consolidation of a law like 26.160, which is the one that prohibits evictions, which also encourages all communities to participate in the registry and to acquire judicial personhood, which is what allows it to then go and act in these frames to fight for justice when the State is not respectful. And in addition, we have projects, some of them presented by Indigenous organizations like the Organización de Pueblos Indígenas del Noroeste Argentino (Organization of Indigenous Peoples of Northeastern Argentina, or OPINOA in its Spanish acronym) which with our support at the Asamblea Permanente por los Derechos Humanos (Permanent Assembly for Human Rights) in 2019 presented a project that is conceptualized by the communities themselves in alignment with the rights of the Mother Earth. Beyond whatever project might emerge, the Law of Indigenous Communal Property has not been debated and it is far from being enacted, in terms of what we can see in this situation as far as the state. And when I say this situation, I am referring to two issues: one is the pandemic which we know has changed the rhythm of everything and also the fact that it is an election year. Since it is an election year, it means that candidates and those who are in office today are watching their backs and strengthening their alliances in each one of the provincial territories with the hegemonic powers, because we know that these territories are besieged by the great hegemonic economic powers, besides everything involved in this racist, colonialist worldview.

K: Claudia, so let’s return to the topic of the textiles by the Thañí collective in La escucha y los vientos [Listening and the Winds]. We can conclude this podcast perhaps by talking about what these women weavers have shared about their relationship with the Río Pilcomayo and the technology and philosophy of their weavings. In the exhibit brochure, which is where their knowledge about the Ilicas is shared, there is a poem by Julio Pietrafaccia that says: “El río es un murmullo que habla sin callar. Una voz que repite una y otra vez su historia” / “The river is a murmur that speaks without falling silent. A voice that repeats its story over and over again.” What sentipensares (feeling-thoughts) are born for us out of this last poem?

C: One can think of it this way: in the same way the river repeats its own story over and over again, these textile pieces should not be simply objectified by a gaze that would conceive of them solely as parts of an exhibit or pieces in a museum. They are also narrating a story that is continually re-elaborated. This repetition also has to do with a continual re-elaboration of lived memory, which women carry with them always. But in this fabrication, which in addition is accompanied by a circular movement in which the hands are the actual instruments and the only technology used belongs to the body, clear messages are transmitted to us that should lead us to think beyond them in this space as we attempt to transit through our gatherings in the brushlands and where the Pilcomayo is life. It is water that runs and transits through these territories carrying with it the story of these peoples. I think that this is one of central questions, and the river is what allows for the renewal of life cycles, it appears to flow also in the continuous circular networks in the weaving and in the interlacing. The weave has to be recovered, this warp and the weft that goes beyond the pieces we are looking at. There is a sociocultural warp and weft that is possible, given the role assigned and preserved by the women in Wichí communities. And this is difficult for us because our perspectives are so colonized. And the feminine as a concept or category of analysis is also colonized in and of itself, and this is what we have to insist. To arrive to a perspective that is in relation to these objects that are much more than objects, in fact. They are carriers of messages and at the same time they invite us to think from an Other place.

K: Thank you, Claudia. Perhaps we can talk a bit more about what is unfortunately the problem of the water, because I wouldn’t want to end with an image that we are idealizing the river and the water, since you have shared many times with me about the struggles precisely for the water in these territories as well.

C: Of course, because this river has been objectified by a mode of hegemonic production and today, despite what is involved with the Pilcomayo in this situation, the possibility of access to safe drinking water is almost impossible for the majority of the communities because not only has the river been converted into a hydroway restricted by the market and capital, but also the territories are being invaded by a mode of production that pollutes the soil and the water. So this is really very problematic and we are talking about an inalienable right. Access to water is a basic human right for any community.

K: That is true. I think we could continue to have this conversation here, but we can say that in the context of this podcast the only thing we can do is to approach several of these topics respectfully.

C: Yes. I think that the public’s ability to visit an exhibition like La escucha y los vientos [Listening and the Winds] is giving us the chance to listen to a message—in their voices and in these objects made by women’s fabricating hands—that is necessary and urgent insofar as it can provide evidence of life stories and a cultural record that is built in daily life through a very strong, ancestral relationship with Mother Nature. But at the same time today it is a strategy of resistance and struggle, and the community radio project La Voz Indígena is telling this story about how over the last three decades these same women along with their brothers and children have been able to make some heroic achievements that are recognized in the recent history of my country, actions like their resistance to clearcutting, the pillaging of their territories, and the imposition of a way of being that they themselves want no part of.

K: That is true. In the exhibit there is a soundscape that is just a taste of some of the sounds in these territories. In addition, the community radio project La Voz Indígena has made a selection of some of their programs related to the memory workshops that were organized by these women on the radio station you are referring to.

C: Yes. I have listened to it carefully. I think these are very clear and forceful voices of resistance. At one point, we hear this idea of the brushlands as life, the river is life. It really is not a cliché. These are political, cosmogonic, and epistemic positions that are very much internalized in these voices. They really are teaching us other things that we do not usually find in books.

K: That is true, Claudia. Thank you so much for being here. We will see each other and talk more soon.

C: I hope so, it is always a pleasure to be able to be in dialogue with you and simultaneously to be able to transmit these reflections and these sentipensares (feeling-thoughts) that move us and which are actually an invitation to decolonize ourselves. Because we are all doing the same work, no one has ended that process, it is a huge challenge. Isn’t that right?

K: That is right, Claudia, we’ll say goodbye then for now.

C: Bye, talk soon.

Past –> Present #1
ifa Gallery Berlin at 30 feat. Kathrin Becker, Chto Delat and R&D

Concept: Sandra Teitge

To celebrate 30 years of ifa Gallery Berlin, this podcast brings together artistic and curatorial positions associated with the gallery since its founding in 1991. Using the gallery’s program as a reference point, selected guests converse with Sandra Teitge about its thematic focal points over the last 30 years. In contrast to many West German cultural institutions of the time, ifa Gallery Berlin concentrated early, throughout the 1990s, on collaborations with artists and curators from Eastern and Southern Europe. How have artistic approaches, curatorial practices and working methods changed over the years? And what is the situation regarding public space, which historically has been more actively incorporated into artistic practices in Eastern and Southern Europe? Does it still provide scope for action in the region? The podcast links these and similar questions to wider contemporary issues and gives a voice to local artists and cultural practitioners.

For the first episode of Past –> Present, Sandra Teitge talks to Berlin-based curator and artistic director of the KINDL – Centre for Contemporary Art Kathrin Becker and to the St. Petersburg-based artist Dmitry Vilensky from the collective Chto Delat (What is to be done?). The two of them converse about their respective work with and beyond ifa; their exchange is accompanied by an audio contribution by the Berlin-based music & performance duo R&D who also produced a bonus track that add to this conversation.

Additional Music: Kolbeinn Hugi

Sound editing: Kolbeinn Hugi

Thanks: Ev Fischer, Inka Gressel, Wiley Hoard

https://soundcloud.com/user-803422726/past-present-bonus-track-rd-in-conversation

Welcome to Past –> Present. Celebrating 30 years of ifa-Galerie Berlin

I’m Sandra Teitge, Berlin-born and based curator and researcher, and the moderator of this podcast.

Past –> Present brings together artistic and curatorial positions associated with the ifa-gallery since its founding in 1991. Using the gallery’s program as a reference point, I will converse with a group of guests about ifa’s general ethos and research interests in the early 90s and today.

What’s the relevance of cultural institutions that foster artistic & cultural exchange, such as ifa, back then and now (especially in times of rising nationalism and cultural isolation)?

In contrast to many West German cultural institutions of the time, the ifa Gallery Berlin concentrated early, throughout the 1990s, on collaborations with artists and curators from Eastern and Southern Europe. How have artistic approaches, curatorial practices and working methods changed over the years? And what is the situation regarding public space, which historically has been more actively incorporated into artistic practices in Eastern and Southern Europe?

This podcast links these and similar questions to wider contemporary issues and offers a podium to artists and cultural practitioners affiliated with ifa at some point in their career.

Today, for this first episode of Past –> Present, I’m very happy to welcome / give the floor to Berlin-based curator and artistic director of the KINDL – Centre for Contemporary Art Kathrin Becker and to the St. Petersburg-based artist Dmitry Vilensky from the collective Chto Delat (What is to be done?). The two of them will converse about their respective work with and beyond ifa; their exchange is accompanied by an audio contribution by the Berlin-based music & performance duo R&D who also produced a bonus track that add to this conversation.

Before joining the KINDL – Centre for Contemporary Art in early 2020, Kathrin Becker was managing director of the Neuer Berliner Kunstverein (n.b.k.) and director of the Video-Forum there since 2003/2001. She has organized and curated manifold exhibitions since the early 1990s, quite a few of them either in Russia or presenting Russian artists in Germany and elsewhere. For ifa, Kathrin curated two exhibitions in the 1990s, which focused on art from Russia: one in ’95 called “Contemporary Photography from Moscow” and another one in ’99 entitled “Neues Moskau. Art from Moscow and St. Petersburg.”

Kathrin will be conversing with D. Vilensky from the collective Chto Delat. Chto Delat (What is to be done?) was founded in 2003 in St. Petersburg by a group of artists, critics, philosophers, and writers with the goal of merging political theory, art, and activism. The group’s ideas are rooted in its members’ active participation in, and research into, current social and political situations in Russia, as well as in principles of self-organization and collective action. In 2015, Chto Delat founded Rosa’s House of Culture, an initiative based on notions of commoning and solidarity economy, that includes the School of Engaged Art, a radical art education initiative, as well as a publicly accessible library dedicated to contemporary art and activist literature. In the context of ifa, Chto Delat participated in the group exhibition “Riots. Slow Cancellation of the Future” in 2018 that was curated by Natasha Ginwala, and is part of the larger project and exhibition series Untie to Tie.

R & D was formed in 2018 by Emilia Kurylowicz, an artist and a filmmaker from Poland, and Maru Mushtrieva, a writer from Russia. Together, they research stereotypes and patterns that are found in their immediate environment, both real and virtual, and use them as a point of departure for their music and performances.

***

ST: Welcome everyone!

Thank you for joining ifa and me today for this podcast.

To start us off, let’s talk about your respective experience of working with and in the ifa-Galerie Berlin.

Kathrin, do you want to start? How did the collaboration come about? What is your connection to Russia? Who did you work with, at ifa?

KB: I did two exhibitions with ifa, one in 1995 and the other one in 1999/2000 at the time when I was a freelance curator in Berlin. The first exhibition was called “Contemporary Photographic Art from Moscow” and it involved a number of artists, like Yuri Babich, Gor Chahal, Fenso-Group, Ilya Piganov, Alexei Shulgin, Anatoli Shuravlev, IV. Vysota – two collectives curiously.

[R & D]

KB: And how did this come along? The former director of the n.b.k., Alexander Tolnay, initiated this series, “Contemporary Photographic Art from” … and Moscow was the first exhibition within this series of exhibitions all dealing with photographic art scene of different countries. This was a collaboration between neuer berliner kunstverein, Academy of Arts, and ifa, actually.

[R & D]

KB: I collaborated with Barbara Barsch, the former director if the ifa-galerie Berlin, and Ev Fischer. The idea behind this project was that photography or photographic art, photo-based art only in the late 1980s, early 1990s became a real subject of public collecting in Russian museums. So the motor of this exhibition was to deal with an aspect of Russian artistic production that in some sense is probably overlooked, even in the country.

[R & D]

KB: The other project was called “New Moscow.” This was the second exhibition I curated for ifa. The subtitle was “Art from Moscow and St. Petersburg” and the participants were Andrei Chlobystin, Vladislav Mamyshev, Timur Novikov, Inspection Medical Hermeneutics…. actually, it was Pavel Pepperstein who participated, and Yevgeniy Yufit. For this project Barbara Barsch and me and the artists Rémy Markowitsch went on a research trip to Moscow. The inspiration for this project was the fact that a new spirit came up in terms of public art in the capital.

[R & D]

KB: Georgian sculptor Zurab Tsereteli in close connection with Moscow’s mayor of that time, Yury Luzhkov a.k.a. The King of Moscow, erected a huge number of super monuments in Moscow that inaugurated a new understanding of culture replacing the former Soviet content through nationalistic and religious tendencies but using the same 19th century monumental language…

There are a few famous ones by Zurab Tsereteli in Moscow, like the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, the Manege Square Ensemble, the War Memorial Complex on Poklonnaya Gora and last but not least the Monument for Peter the Great from 1997. That Tsereteli originally designed to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the first trip of Christopher Columbus in 1992. But no American customer was found for the monument so then the head was replaced by the head by Peter the Great.

[R & D]

KB: It was gigantic. 1000 tons of weight; 600 tons of stainless steel and bronze and copper. This was very curious to me, to see this tendency. Barbara Barsch and me went to, first of all, to interview the artist, Zurab Tsereteli. We had a document of Tsereteli’s monuments in the catalogue. But then, of course, we exhibited works by artists that ironically dealt with new tendencies in the Russian scene or culture. Just to give you an example a drawing by Pavel Pepperstein, for instances, was called “Monument to Someone with too long Hair” – quite a direct commentary on what was then coming up in Moscow. And also the title, “New Moscow,” referred to a famous Socialist painting of Yuri Pimenov of 1937, which commented on the fact that new monuments in Moscow were not so new at all, aesthetically, and also in their imperial attitude.

[R & D]

KB: These were the two projects I did for ifa. Maybe this shows already that I’m talking about a time that is 20-25 years ago.

ST: When one looks back at the exhibitions of ifa, the approach in the early 90s or 90s was very different to what it is now. The group show that Chto Delat participated in reflects this newer approach, I would say, where there is more of a thematic approach rather than a national approach what you described Kathrin, where it was focused on one country.

KB: Well, yes. But you also have to see that it was a totally different time. In the 1990s the world was much smaller than it is now. Imagine that in Europe, even the Internet was not available in a broad sense to a lot of people. To find an artist, for example in St. Petersburg or in West Africa or in Australia, you needed to travel there; you needed to have local connections. There was no checking out artist portfolios on the website. And also not so many people, for example, Russian artists, spoke English at the time. So there were a lot of different questions. Imagine, the first exhibition that exhibited 50% of Western artists and 50% of non-Western artists shoulder to shoulder was Jean-Hubert Martin’s “Les Magiciens de la Terre” (Magicians of the Earth) in Paris in 1989. –Within these 30 years, I myself faced a lot of changes, as well.– And this was the first attempt of an exhibition to subvert the Euro-Centrist view or this idea of superiority in the field of artists and artistic representation.

[R & D]

KB: ifa was founded in a time when transnational questions were not as developed as today. So, of course, it had a different agenda then. And, actually, we all a different agenda then. And I think these two exhibitions, “Riots. Slow Cancellation of the Future” and “Contemporary Photographic Art from Moscow” underline this development of these 20 or 30 years very well.

ST: I think so, too. At ifa, there was a shift in the directorship. Barbara Barsch who you worked with left in 2016 and Alya Sebti took over who then invited Natasha Ginwala to curate one of the exhibitions in the series Untie to Tie. So maybe Dmitry, you could talk a little bit about your work, also as member of a collective –you co-run Rosa’s House of Culture–, and your understanding of cultural work and cultural exchange. How have you experienced ifa’s approach to cultural work and exchange, besides participating in this exhibition?

DV: Thank you! After Kathrin talked, I feel very nostalgic. It was a very legendary time … when you really needed to establish contact … travel… especially with all this online activity right now. I remember very well ifa from my first visits to Berlin. I really appreciated it. ifa played a very special role as Kathrin also explained. Many things that were not possible to realize in a local context somehow were realized at ifa: a Belarussian show, a Ukrainian show. It was quite interesting. We can also speculate on a certain colonial type of approach, when you extract a certain kind of knowledge and position. But at the same time, from a local perspective, it was a mutual benefit.

[R & D]

DV: Absolutely, it was maybe the only chance to see a certain type of very interesting research on different situations in Latin America, in Eastern Europe, in Africa… to see very important installations and new voices that may later spread around international lines of communication. And also the information and the knowledge collected through these exhibitions come back through catalogues or dialogues between people that went to the opening. So the role of ifa was very important for these particular countries that had a certain problem with developing a contemporary art scene. Our experience was quite limited but we knew Natasha. It is always a pleasure to participate in these kinds of shows. You also correctly mentioned that a certain kind of shift from a national representation to a more thematic or curatorial representation happened at ifa, [that presented] a lot of voices that are not very present in the international or in the Berlin/German situation.

[R & D]

DV: I used to live and work in Germany, as a curator, producer, in Frankfurt and Berlin. We, Chto Delat, worked for a long time without a gallery but then found our home at KOW Berlin, which we are very happy about and which brings with it another type of relation to the art world. At the same time, Berlin is one of the few Western cities that is so well connected to the East, to Russia, to Poland… Vienna [is more connected] to the Balkans but Berlin definitely more to the North. And there is a historical knowledge and expertise, like Kathrin who perfectly speaks Russian and travels a lot. Many people commute between Moscow and Berlin or St. Petersburg and Berlin or Kaliningrad – whatever. Berlin is a super important place. And at the same time, I would say, because of this historical knowledge we are perhaps still most exhibited in Germany. They really understand who we are because sometimes this process of translation is very difficult. Actually, in that context ifa has always been very interesting because it was always a procedure of translation.

ST: It was also one of the very few West German institutions that focused on the Eastern landscape after the systems collapsed in 1989/90. That was also quite unusual at the time. I also wanted to ask, Kathrin, how your interest in Russia came about. You obviously speak fluently, as also Dmitry mentioned.

KB: This is a very banal story. I grew up in Hagen, in the West of the Ruhrgebiet or close to there. There was a school that offered French or Russian as a third foreign language after English and Latin. I decided to study Russian in school when I was a teenager. There was always this idea of the Russian enemy and the evil Ivan that invaded … and so on. I wanted to know the language and I wanted to escape the hegemony of the United States or whatever teenage idea I had.

[R & D]

KB: I then studied art history and Slavic languages in Bochum. There were Karl Eimermacher and Georg Witte who were very important. They both worked at the Slavic Institute and introduced me to what was called Inofficial Russian or Soviet Art. They also introduced me to Moscow Conceptualism at a very early stage, in the mid 1980s. That was the starting point. And then in 1989 with a grant of the daad I went to Russia to prepare my Masters on Soviet Socialist Realism. I was supposed to stay ten months but times were so exciting that I stayed for two years. This stay in Russia and the connections I had there and this huge interest that existed at that time in Russian contemporary art from Western museums and so on were my door opener for a curatorial career. For quite a few years I worked in the exchange between Russia and Europe, Russia and Germany, and also the United States. Today I have a bit of a different perspective on that time, when I see that this interest in the Russian art scene was a step of foreign cultural policy of the West. I see today that Russian artists were most probably instrumentalized to overcome or to make a decision in the last battles of the Cold War.

[R & D]

KB: I think that Chto Delat (What is to be done) is an exception from the rule, having quite a presence in Berlin and in Germany and also in an international art system, from a Western perspective. Berlin always claims to be this bridge between East and West and so on. But when you have a look at the Berlin art scene now, Russian artists with the exception of Chto Delat left very little footprints on that map. A lot of artists live here when we think of Vadim Zakharov, Dmitry Vrubel oder AES+F or… they all live here but they leave almost no traces in the institutional art or gallery scene. This speaks to the fact that this interest in Russian art tended towards zero after the Cold War ended.

[R & D]

KB: I think this is still the case. When you look at Blockbuster exhibitions like the Venice Biennale or documenta I still feel that Russia and Eastern Europe is highly underrated.

ST: Could you respond to that, Dmitry?

DV: Yeah, it’s very bitter but at the same a correct remark. I completely agree. But at the same time I think it was also the problem of the development of the Russian public sphere and democratic space, which was not able to create their own institutions. Contemporary art stays incredibly marginalized and criminalized. And right now, May 2021, I would say the situation is the worst I ever remember. It is super fragile. It started to escalate in December after Navalny returned from Germany to Russia and then everything started to collapse immediately.

[R & D]

DV: Without strong local institutions you can hardly participate. At the same time, you can also hardly move forward inside of this repressive bubble. There aren’t many chances to develop an artistic language that would be challenging and bring attention. Our case was quite different. We are explicitly international because we know this language but at the same time we manage to make serious artwork based on our tradition.

[R & D]

DV: Maybe because we all have certain experiences –I’m speaking now as part of the collective Chto Delat. Most of our members have serious experiences of living and working in the West but consciously decided to continue our work in Russia. This position of a mediator and a translator, not only of Western experience, but into Russian and vice versa, is really still quite exciting.

ST: Do you feel that institutions like ifa that organize cultural exchange are still as important as they were in the early 1990s? Or are initiatives like what you are co-organizing, Rosa’s House of Culture, something that focuses on the locale possibly more efficient in a climate like this?

DV: It depends on what you call “efficient.” I don’t like this word. What we are doing here [in St. Petersburg], is very local work, which must be done. Unfortunately, it should be done on a much bigger scale. At the same time, right now people are becoming more sensitive, who is speaking, for and with whom – the conditions of participation, that kind of ethical turn is very important. I also agree with you, with what you said, that ifa has to change its politics because you can’t simply continue this purely representational [approach]. At the same time, I also wouldn’t undermine it because for many people to have that expertise from the outside [is important] – as Benjamin always said, that to understand something you need to distance [yourself from it]. But who creates this distance? How is it structured? Who profits from it?

[R & D]

DV: What Kathrin said that looking back, she understood how art was instrumentalized in the post-Cold War relations… Now, we have a new Cold War. And which side are you on? We are openly dissidents. Kathrin understands me quite well, I think. When I reflect on the current situation I think that we are dramatically returning to this condition of dissident production. And dissident production was always somehow very marginal and local and at the same time has a value internationally. It was the only source to continue to have certain resources and visibility. At the same time, the situation is not like in the 1980s. We have institutions, new ones like Garage or VAC. They are doing serious work and they belong to the most powerful institutions internationally. But there are very few. And they also have a certain limitation because right now self-censorship is incredibly high. Everyone knows what you can talk about and what you can’t. And the rules of the game change every two weeks. People get scared about how to continue because business and power in Russia are intertwined so you can’t be incredibly independent. Most oligarchs, private businesses, absolutely depend on the [political] condition in order to survive.

[R & D]

DV: It used to be that after 2014, for example, there were heaps of Ukrainian shows. Where are they now? Right now, the focus is absolutely outside of the East. It’s on the decolonial, the post-colonial, which is legitimate, absolutely. But at the same time, I would dream of a world built on more equal forms of partnerships and resources.

ST: I totally agree with that, Dmitry. Thank you so much, Kathrin. Thank you so much, Dmitry, for sharing your thoughts and memories of ifa with us. This seems like a good moment to end this conversation as we are also running out of time. I’m very grateful to have had the pleasure to talk to both of you… and I hope that the listeners enjoyed this conversation as much as I did. As mentioned in the intro, please also check out the bonus track to this episode, produced by R&D whose song “Bendable” accompanied this conversation.

Please also stay tuned for two more episodes in this series Past –> Present that we are currently planning to broadcast in the early and late fall of this year. Until then, enjoy the summer… and I hope to meet you back here in a few months.

Radio Comunitaria La Voz Indigena
Colaboradio Show

The community radio La Voz Indígena is an indigenous radio station located in the north of Argentina and run by women. It is the result of a long and complex communal and intercultural process. Throughout it, speakers from different Pueblos Originarios in the north of the province of Salta, along the border with Paraguay and Bolivia, have joined together.

The radio has been on the air since the beginning of 2000, giving space to their voices and languages, reporting on their problems and singing their songs. They present themselves in the first person to tell their story of struggles and mobilization of their rights themselves. The voices heard in this selection envision sounds from the Monte, the forest land of the Gran Chaco -their living space- to learn about their cosmovisions, songs and narratives. They also convey the collective pains, the laments of their ancestors murdered by the so-called Conquista and the longing for the lost and usurped forest land. Each message manifests the sufferings as well as the resistance and hope of a union of communities that have found in the spoken word their form of expression to make their existence public, to resist the injustices and to reinvent themselves as collective subjects.

The consequences of the so-called Conquista are present in their bodies and histories, and this historical and ongoing relationship of the various communities of the Gran Chaco – of living in the face of the killings and of the present – inscribes itself in a process of collective reflection and action, embodied in these acoustic pieces. These messages we share are living memories of persons and communities that, through radio communication, confront the capitalist, patriarchal, colonial, heteronormative attacks and come back to life – in voices and songs in which persons, natural beings and spirits unite.

Claudia Andrea Gotta and Karen Michelsen Castañón reflect on “The Listening and the Winds” #1

Historian, teacher and activist Claudia Andrea Gotta and artist Karen Michelsen Castañón discuss aspects of the exhibition related to the histories and struggles of the collectives involved in the exhibition.

K: Welcome to this podcast which we will use as a space together to discuss issues stemming from the show La escucha y los vientos at ifa Gallery in Berlin. Today we are here as a result of an invitation from the curators of this collective project, Inka Gressel and Andrea Fernández. My name is Karen Michelsen Castañón; I am an artist and cultural worker in Berlin. Within the system of prevailing structural racism here in Germany, I am a person of color, though in Abya Yala I am a white mestiza person. Claudia, thank you so much for being here.

C: Hello, everyone. My name is Claudia Andrea Gotta, I am an Argentinean educator, teacher, historian, environmental educator and activist in the field of human rights and specifically for the rights of Indigenous peoples. At this time, in addition to my work at the University, I am a national secretary within the Permanent Assembly for Human Rights, dealing with the rights of Argentina’s Native or Indigenous Peoples.

K: Thank you Claudia. I wanted to tell you all briefly the story of how we met, because I’m in Berlin, and you’re in Rosario, Argentina. I had the pleasure and honor of meeting you in Rosario in 2019, when I interviewed you for the audiovisual project No más poemas para Colón [No More Poems for Columbus]. Each person interviewed recounts how the myth of the so-called discovery of Abya Yala has been constructed in their own territorial and historical context and how it connects to the realities in which they live. What I found interesting when we talked to begin thinking about this podcast was that both Germany and Argentina are still constructed as homogeneously white nation-states. The histories of the Peoples that pre-existed these nation-states are made invisible and that is why the exhibition is so interesting, because there are multiple collectivities of people who participate within La escucha y los vientos. Through their works, they alert us to their lives, their resistance, their struggles, in this particular case, in the territory called the Gran Chaco.

C: This exhibition is possible thanks to the involvement of a series of collectives including one we wish to name Radio La Voz Indígena

K: The ethnic memory workshop of the Aretede indigenous organization.

C: Also, textiles, bearers of messages from the Thañí / Viene del monte collective of women from Wichí communities, which in turn is part of the Lhaka Honhat / Nuestra Tierra association.

K: There are also the textiles of people from Wichí communities, particularly La Puntana.

C: And the ceramic works of the Chané Tutiatí Orembiapo Maepora community and many, many more people. Even more than that, Karen, there were countless people that it would be impossible to name who participate with this group and who have made this exhibition possible.

K: That is so true, Claudia, and for more information listeners can go to the same webpage of the ifa Gallery for the exhibition. The brochures are available there, and in each brochure each person is listed with their individual or collective contribution to this exhibition. So for this first podcast, I’d like to ask you a question: what historical issues do you think are important to emphasize in order to be able to support the struggles of the groups participating in this exhibition?

C: We could say that these Peoples—who have been invaded, trapped, cornered, or dispossessed of their ancestral territories—have a form of resistance in this play with words, of resisting in order to continue existing, that invite us to recover these other forms of knowledge and constructions from the community level. Their way of conceiving of the place they inhabit—from the furthest reaches of time in some cases or in others they have been relocated by the advance of the market and capital in their territories—show us a way of existing in the world that allows us to keep fighting, through the collective, and to keep putting into action their own beliefs and their forms of conceiving of life. We should recover these other forms of conceiving of life in consonance with multiplicity and diversity of life in the territories. As we are going to be able to see in this exhibition, in the material elements that carry these messages, the brush, the lake, the animals, the stories that are marvelously interwoven into the weft of the textiles that the women from the region of the Gran Chaco have placed into this show. They allow us to see just that, the continuous re-elaboration of their story, enacted in the present to retrieve many elements that behave like other types of values, as another ethic from and for life. An ethic in which women have a truly central and crucial role, and which in addition also invites us to decolonize feminism. The women of the Gran Chaco show us how they are both preserving and, simultaneously, recreating their own culture. Feminism in Abya Yala invites us to recognize that feminism must be decolonial or it will not exist at all or will provide nothing. This is because quite often we are building resistance in the face of concepts that are already colonized in and of themselves and then somehow this exhibition shows the people who visit it—and hopefully it will be physically open for visits soon, but if not, at least virtually—other forms of inhabiting territories, another conception of life made manifest in what are seen mistakenly as cultural artifacts in a more hegemonic vision. In reality, these are objects of daily life that have significant meaning and also concrete functions in the realm of the everyday, but what they center in the debate and in our thinking is how a culture recreates itself through these textile and ceramic manifestations, a vision of a world that we should not just recognize, but also from which we must learn. Because the urgency of these times demands it in order to be able to build a new way of relating to one another as the human community that we are, on different levels and in consonance with other manifestations of life.

K: Yes, thank you Claudia. Obviously, I believe that the history of the Gran Chaco cannot be summarized in a couple of minutes, but perhaps you can give us a couple of points of departure, recognizing that in Europe the process or processes of invasion that began in the 19th century are rarely discussed. This will give us a more historical perspective.

C: Yes, of course, thank you, I think it is a necessary clarification or necessary information, although in this format it will have to remain brief. The Gran Chaco that we refer to today as such in our country forms a much broader territory that includes other countries such as Brazil, Bolivia, and Paraguay. The Gran Chaco is a setting where the brushlands, the jungle, fostered forms of life for millennia that we of course know very, very little about, because this was conceived of from the hegemonic perspective as the other great desert. This hegemonic conception attempted to impose this idea of an empty space onto two great expanses of territory that the Argentine nation-state was finally able to incorporate later into the national territory. This process began for Abya Yala in the 15th century and arrived here in the last quarter of the 19th century with the existence of two large expanses of territory: that is, for Argentina, the southern reaches which would be called Patagonia and the Chaco. These territories were conceived of—mistakenly, but not innocently—as deserts, because the desert is constructed out of this sense of nothingness, of the absence of something that has another connotation and that, therefore, defied the gaze of the hegemonic class of the moment, the landowning oligarchy that wanted to advance on the territories still in indigenous control and to complete its “civilizing project.” In this sense, the idea of the desert is an oxymoron, a desert is an unconquered space. In fact, none of these areas was actually a desert; on the contrary, they featured and still feature an overflowing abundance of culturally diverse and divergent life forms that were far different from what the Argentine nation-state was attempting to impose with its vision of a monocultural and monolingual identity, which was clearly homogeneously white in its conception. Therefore, throughout this history that has been on-going for more than two centuries and almost two and half centuries, the state worked to construct an imaginary of these territories that has no resemblance to what had been gestating there forever and what is still in existence there now. These other perspectives and these other forms of inhabiting, other ways of creating culture and also, of course, other ways of conceiving of nature and life and, therefore, what is being taught, what should be taught is this preservation of knowledge that centers Wichí, Chané, Mocoví, and Qom women. There is a wide array of cultural diversity here and also linguistic diversity. These territories have great biodiversity and a great cultural diversity; nevertheless, in the hegemonic worldview, they are conceived of as places where poverty is registered by the colonial gaze. This gaze has created a gap in our way of seeing Other territories and Other brothers and sisters. So then, otherness is also something that must be dismantled and this notion of poverty since these are not poor groups but rather they have been actively impoverished. They have been impoverished within this evermore brutal, capitalist, hegemonic system that we have had over the last decades, a system that continues to advance upon these territories. We are going to talk about this in the subsequent episodes in other ways; nevertheless, we do not just have to take action—and this is what this exercise you have invited me into is dealing with, and I appreciate the invitation—but also to be able look at these other expanses of territory, toward other ways of inhabiting the world, and, of course, toward these other messages that are embodied in these cultural expressions that we alluded to previously: the textiles, ceramic objects and also the voices of the people who inhabit the Gran Chaco in Argentina. They transmit other messages to us that not only do we need to encounter, but also we must recover these messages and at some point internalize them, since—as I said before—they need them urgently.

K: So for now we’ll say goodbye and we hope to meet again soon to continue delving into other elements of the show. Thank you, Claudia.

C: Well, actually thank you, and see you soon.

Translation: JD Pluecker

Ecologies of Listening #4

Interview with Andrea Fernández & Inka Gressel from ColaBoraDio radio studio

Curator Andrea Fernández and head of the ifa Gallery Berlin Inka Gressel speak about the process of creating the exhibition The Listening and the Winds. Narratives and Inscriptions of the Gran Chaco, which emphasises listening as an urgent and necessary approach for a decolonial exhibition practice. The radio collective featured in the exhibition “Radio Comunitaria La Voz Indigena” from Tartagal, Argentina, have put together a playlist especially for this programme. Finally, archive material from the three Listening Sessions invites the audience to continue listening.

Ecologies of Listening explores listening as a practice of actively and consciously relating to our environment. How can an embodied practice of listening enhance the ways in which we connect – to ourselves, to the environment and to other forms of life and nature? Through which channels does nature ‚transmit’? And what role does listening play when composing? Through experimentation, listening exercises and sound walks from radio art, composition and somatic practice, the three listening sessions invited an investigation into active listening.

Curated by Annika Niemann & Rosanna Lovell

Ecologies of Listening #3
Embodied Listening

Ecology looks at how an organism relates with, affects and is affected by its environment. An ecology of listening would be how through listening consciously we can affect and be affected by our environment or that which we listen to. What kinds of ecologies of listening are there and how can we connect through them? The third listening session focuses on listening as a physical practice – for both the body and the senses, and examines through somatic exercises how this influences how and what we hear. In resonance with the radio collective “Radio Comunitaria La Voz Indigena“ (Tartagal, Argentina) we explore how far an embodied practice of listening could enhance the ways in which we connect – to ourselves, to the environment and to other forms of life and nature. With Rosanna Lovell. Guest: Ela Spalding, https://elaspalding.com/

With Rosanna Lovell. Guest: Ela Spalding, https://elaspalding.com/

In Cooperation with: ColaBoraDio/ Freies Radio-Berlin Brandenburg

Ecologies of Listening #1
Expanding Radio

With Ecologies of Listening the ifa gallery Berlin explores listening as a practice of actively and consciously relating to our environment. Through experimentation, listening exercises and sound walks from the fields of radio art, composition and somatic practice, three listening sessions in different urban locations invite participants to challenge their aural senses and practice active listening. Curated by Annika Niemann and Rosanna Lovell.

What sounds, information and perspectives do we send and receive? And through which channels does nature transmit? The first listening session focusses on listening and broadcasting practices in radio art developed for a site specific workshop in the center of Berlin: through listening exercises, practices and sound walks through the hidden green of the Gartenarbeitsschule (Garden School) Wedding. Those interested in expanding their senses, education professionals and students, are welcome to experiment with new, artistic approaches to environmental education and to consider them in relation to their own professional practice and way of life.

With Rosanna Lovell. Guest: Kate Donovan A cooperation with: ColaBoraDio/ Freies Radio-Berlin Brandenburg

Quotes:

Hildegard Westerkamp, “The Soundscape on Radio.”, 1994.

Anna Friz, “Everyone a Listener”, 2018.

SunBorn Lullabies and Battle Cries von Memory Biwa
ITERATION # LISTENING

https://soundcloud.com/europeannomadicbiennial/sunborn-lullabies-and-battle-cries-by-memory-biwa

Historian Memory Biwa combines memory, the sonic, and archival theory. Her piece, which is conceived as an ‘aural procession’, of a lullaby sung at dawn, battle cries, chants, ululations, bow-playing, and landscapes trace narratives of colonial violence and re-enactments of resistance in Namibia. These traces are drawn from aural, sartorial and performative practices which inform notions of subjectivity and the re-centering of alternative epistemologies and imaginaries.

The piece was co-produced with Robert ‘Chi’ Machiri.

The sound recordings are of:

Elder Jarimbovandu Alex Kaputu (Ceremonial Chief Priest of the Holy Fire, and Lieutenant General of the Red Flag),  Ovaherero and Nama delegation (including Genocide Committees), Human remains viewing/ceremony at Charite University Hospital, Berlin, September 2011, recording by Larissa Foerster

Elders Lena Venter, and Fritz //Hamaseb, Okahandja, central Namibia,1954, Ernst and Ruth Dammann Sound Collection, Basler Afrika Bibliographien, Basel.

Swimming pool waterfall at Spa, Klein-Windhoek (a place of early settlement near hot springs), Windhoek, August 2020, recording by Memory Biwa