Publications by Katerina Valdivia Bruch

“Post-Orientalist Express: Breaking Down Cultural Stereotypes“ for ASEF's Culture360 magazine

My latest article Post-Orientalist Express: Breaking Down Cultural Stereotypes reflects on how dance might be able to break with cultural stereotypes: 

Are some languages better than others? Can a dance be composed out of other dances without becoming a cliché or enhancing one dance above the other? These were some of the questions that emerged after watching Post-Orientalist Express, a choreography by Eun-Me Ahn (b. 1963, Seoul), presented in Berlin in November 2025 as part of the Performing Arts Season at the Berliner Festspiele. The piece allows us to question the idea of ‘Asia’ (identified as the Orient) and embarks us in a tour de force composed of different performative traditions, accompanied by electronic music, video projections, and AI-generated images.

Interview with the curator Alfredo Villar for Arteinformado

Alfredo Villar: “Pienso en un museo  colaborativo, donde las obras no se encuentren encerradas, sino convivan  en las calles, en la vida cotidiana, en la comunidad”

My interview with the Peruvian curator Alfredo Villar has been published in Arteinformado (in Spanish). In the interview we spoke about the curator's career, which has focused on Amazonian art and Peruvian urban popular cultures. During the conversation, Villar analyses the tensions between indigenous art, the global market and institutions, criticising cultural extractivism and advocating for decolonising and collaborative curatorial models that prioritise community networks over hegemonic circuits.

¿Una guerrilla cultural? La escena del arte experimental en Lima durante el gobierno de Velasco Alvarado (1968-1975) for Illapa Mana Tukukuq

My article with the title ¿Una guerrilla cultural? La escena del arte experimental en Lima durante el gobierno de Velasco Alvarado (1968-1975) has been published in Spanish in the journal Illapa Mana Tukukuq, vol. 22, no. 1, January-June 2025.

Abstract: This paper examines how the military government of Juan Velasco Alvarado (1968-1975) and the experimental art scene in Lima have been presented in exhibitions and international academic and curatorial circuits. It begins with a brief introduction, focusing on the characteristics of this regime and presenting examples of its cultural policies. The paper then reviews the literature produced in the 1970s and 1980s on the experimental art scene, contrasting these earlier accounts with a new historical interpretation that has circulated primarily outside Peru since 2007. Drawing on the notion of "cultural guerrilla", the essay questions the validity of this version of the period’s history. It also illustrates, through specific examples, how curatorial practices are contributing to a rewriting of Peruvian art history in order to integrate it into the international art circuit.

The 13th Berlin Biennale: “I don’t care what you think, I will exhibit it anyway” for Counter Arts

For whom are the biennales? For the curator and her or his artists’ friends, or for a broader audience? Why is the lack of  communication and illegibility confounded with something ‘profound’ in  the art world? These and other thoughts were running through my mind  while I was visiting the opening of the 13th Berlin Biennale.

Who is Missing Here? The Paradoxes of Inclusion in “Radical Playgrounds” at Gropius Bau

Katerina Valdivia Bruch

I enjoy going to exhibitions happening outside exhibition venues, mostly because there is a chance to meet people who will usually not go to art shows. A few weeks ago I went to see “Radical Playgrounds: From Competition to Collaboration” at Gropius Bau, that opened shortly before the UEFA European Football Championship (Euro 2024). It took place in the outside spaces of the Martin-Gropius-Bau, facing Niederkirchner and Stresemann Streets.

In the show, the topic of “play” was associated with that of competition, sports, and collaboration. Although I do not agree with the idea of play as competition or sports — play could be a leisure activity, encourage community-building and exploration, without any aim to win — , what I liked was that several families amused themselves in the different “playgrounds” created by artists and architects. What I could observe was that these families were the usual art audience: artists, curators, architects, and other creative and art-interested people. While I was there, I met some curators and artists with their kids, whom I am friends with. That day, I was lucky to meet one of the curators of the programme, Joanna Warsza, who gave us an introduction of some of the works.

But, who is missing in this show? The neighbourhood and those who live close to the Gropius Bau. This neighbourhood, composed mostly by low-income families, is probably not aware of this “radical” playground that aimed to include all. As known, the Martin-Gropius-Bau is located right at the former border between East and West Berlin. During the partition of Germany there was a large space, a no man’s land between the walls. Today, this area is close to Potsdamer Platz train station and to a shopping mall, poorly attended after its renovation. Other than the office buildings and shopping areas at Potsdamer Platz, the neighbourhood surrounding the Gropius Bau is characterised for its cheap housing facilities and social housing projects. I remember visiting some years ago an artist friend, who organised with other artists a sewing workshop for refugee women, mainly from Syria. These workshops, with the intention to facilitate a possibility for future income by means of clothing repair, were held at an empty hotel on Stresemann Street, which was also used to give shelter to several other refugees from the Middle East.

A highlight of the show was the part dedicated to the itinerant exhibition “The Playground Project — Architecture for Children”, curated by Gabriela Burkhalter. It presented the history of playgrounds in different parts of the world since the late 19th century. These initiatives focused on bringing children from the streets to the playground, others encouraged children’s creative self-determination, aiming to establish a sense of community.* Some of these playgrounds were built for children in low-income areas, such as the project by Italian architect Riccardo Dalisi in Rione Traiano, in the outskirts of Naples (Italy) from 1971 to 1974. Yet, the same cannot be said about “Radical Playgrounds”. This show constructed an artificial setting of inclusion that in the end reproduced the exclusivity of the art world.

Although “Radical Playgrounds” had a lovely programme, I would be cautious in using the term “radical”. Apart from being heavily institutional, following a planned marketing strategy (linking play with sports, starting the programme before the Euro 2024 and closing it on 14 July 2024, the day of the finals), and not including the surrounding neighbourhood, I cannot think of anything “radical” in this project.

“Radical Playgrounds: From Competition to Collaboration” Curated by Joanna Warzsa and Benjamin Foerster-Baldenius Gropius Bau, Berlin

*A description in English of “The Playground Project — Architecture for Children” is available on page 46 of the programme booklet, which can be downloaded here.

This article was published in Counter Arts.

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Acts of Decontextualising Again: On the Risks of Auto-Exoticism in “O Quilombismo” at House of World Cultures

Katerina Valdivia Bruch

What do the Dalit in India have in common with indigenous art from the Amazonas region in Peru, the Mapuche from Chile or the Afro-communities in Brazil? Resistance, resistance, resistance. 

The exhibition “O Quilombismo” takes as a basis a book by Brazilian artist, scholar and politician Abdias do Nascimento, who wrote “O quilombismo: Documentos de uma militância Pan-Africanista” in 1980, while he was living in exile in the US. The notion encompasses the idea of a group of people, who escaped from slavery, establishing communities of “fraternal and free reunion, or encounter; solidarity, living together, and existential communion.”

In Berlin, under the term “Quilombismo” the exhibition presented works that refer to the Dalit, indigenous groups from the Amazonas region in Peru and the Mapuche in Chile, as if all have to do with the same cause. While the caste system existed before the British colony (ca. 1500 BC), the “quilombos” were communities created by Afro-Brazilians, who escaped from slavery in the sixteenth century. Another example of decontextualisation happens with the inclusion of art by popular artists from the Amazonas region (the shipibo-conibo community from Pucallpa). These and other indigenous groups suffered from the consequences of the rubber boom extractivism in the Amazon basin (ca. 1870-1920). Although they officially were not slaves, they were treated as such. The exhibition puts everything in the same basket, without differentiating the importance and the meaning of each one of these struggles. 

The display resembles a traditional folk craft fair, with batik textiles hanging from the ceiling, traditional “arte popular” (popular art) pottery displayed on a half-moon base structure with two levels, or hand-woven textiles attached on the walls. Although the exhibition offers a supposed “pluriverse,” for me it presents a closed circuit, in which minorities are presented as the idealised exotic other. The artists are reduced to their identity, although identities are never static. They are always in constant transformation. The opening ceremony included a Voodoo ritual, convened by the Voodoo priest Jean-Daniel Lafontant from Haiti. While this ritual might have had a transformative power in its original context; in Berlin after two or three beers and some selfies with friends (with the ritual in the background), Berliners would have probably forgotten about it. 

“We are coming in peace,” said Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung, the newly appointed director and chief curator of House of World Cultures (Haus der Kulturen der Welt, HKW for its German acronym) during his opening speech. Although he has been active in the art scene for several years, his phrase appeared as if he and his team were arriving from a spaceship and landing at HKW to conquer the art scene with their “new” vision of the arts. However, his view of the arts is not new at all, as it is based on theories developed long time ago.

Beyond Abdias do Nascimento, throughout the 1970s and 1980s several Latin American art theorists discussed the importance of focusing on local contexts, which included reflecting on the local popular cultures with an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist tenor. Influenced by the theory of dependency, a group of Latin American theorists gathered in different international meetings and reflected on the creation of a social theory of art from a Latin Americanist perspective. Among them were Mirko Lauer, Juan Acha, Rita Eder, Aracy Amaral, Damián Bayón or Marta Traba. Although the discussions around “arte popular” (local popular art) were not exempt from contradictions, there were attempts to present popular art within contemporary exhibition settings. For instance, the first three editions of the Bienal de la Habana (1984, 1986 and 1989). Knowing this, I wonder why the curators at HKW did not invest more time in researching this Latin Americanist perspective, and present works that would be in tune with the localist and anti-colonial tendency of the arts of that time. 

Today, it is common in the art world to decontextualise, in order to present the past from a “new” and “different” perspective. In this show, instead of going deeper into what “Quilombismo” means, the exhibition mixes completely unrelated topics in the same show. Additionally, one needs to check the reader all the time to find out about the works and the artists. Instead of learning and understanding, I came out of the exhibition with a huge question mark, thinking of what it was all about. 

Although the art world is currently working hard on being “inclusive,” the fact is that we are experiencing censorship in the arts. This is exemplified in the constant exposure of the work by Ukrainian artists and Ukrainian flags waving on top of important museums; while Russian artists are not exhibited (since the current war in Ukraine, everything coming from Russia is considered as evil). While Berlin praises itself for being open to people from different cultural backgrounds, a week ago I witnessed a disappointing situation. On a rooftop terrace close to Berlin Zoo, two Muslim men were sitting in silence doing their afternoon prayer. After a few minutes, a waiter from the nearby bar came out and asked them to stop praying and leave the terrace. While the two men were not disturbing anyone, I wonder whose inclusion we are discussing.

In times of Chat GPT and AI, in the art world it is all about “our ancestors.” And yet, whose ancestors are we talking about? Did the ancestors do things better? Was there a paradise in the past that we need to recover? Paradoxically, the ancestors invented patriarchy and the caste system. Instead of putting people into boxes, defining them by their identity, and decontextualising the history of past social struggles, one shall think about what we have in common as human beings; collaborate despite our differences, and reflect on possibilities on how to do things better than our ancestors.

Photo: Installation view of “O Quilombismo” at HKW. © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

This article was published in Counter Arts.

El ‘radical chic’ en el arte contemporáneo peruano: “Como el verde palta”

Por Katerina Valdivia Bruch

No suelo escribir comentarios de este tipo, pero la actual moda por un supuesto "arte crítico" en Lima está llegando a límites insospechados. La reciente exposición "Geometría y poder" de la artista peruana Micaela Aljovín es un buen ejemplo.

El marco referencial de la muestra es el gobierno militar de Juan Velasco Alvarado (1968-1975), también conocido como la primera fase del Gobierno Revolucionario de las Fuerzas Armadas (1968-1980). Más allá de discutir si el gobierno fue bueno o malo para el país, los imaginarios que se han creado al respecto en la curaduría actual en el arte peruano dejan mucho que desear.

Varios curadorxs peruanxs toman este gobierno como punto de partida para enfatizar una supuesta "radicalidad" o "disidencia" en el arte peruano. Otrxs lo han usado como el contexto ideal para insertar la vanguardia de los sesenta y setenta en el canon del conceptualismo latinoamericano. Atribuyen un "activismo" en la escena, cuando en ese momento particular de la historia peruana las creaciones artísticas experimentales (los hoy llamados conceptualismos) no estuvieron contra el gobierno, sino ofrecieron una crítica contra el sistema del arte imperante en la época. Cabe señalar que ese momento de la historia peruana se caracterizó por un auge de galerías y otros espacios expositivos, que acogieron y promovieron esas prácticas experimentales.

A eso se suma la creación por parte de algunxs curadores de un oponente ficticio (el gobierno militar) que supuestamente impedía las prácticas artísticas, asumiendo que lxs artistas tuvieron que luchar en contra (nótese el énfasis que ponen algunxs curadores en las palabras "disidencia", "activismo", "radicalidad"), para de este modo encajar con expresiones artísticas de corte político en otras latitudes en América Latina. Paradójicamente, algunxs artistas de vanguardia trabajaron para este gobierno, contribuyendo a los programas de democratización cultural y/o a la reforma educativa, además de la comunicación y propaganda del mismo.

Incluso hay curadorxs que reinterpretan las obras o las redimensionan para adaptarlas a los contextos expositivos (principalmente en exposiciones internacionales), neutralizando así el sentido original de las obras en su momento y acallando las voces singulares de lxs artistas. 

Hay muy poca investigación en profundidad por parte de lxs curadores. Lo que abunda son la descontextualización y la ficcionalización, incluso diría especulación, sobre este período de la historia peruana. Este fenómeno ha dado lugar a la creación de una nueva historia del arte contemporáneo peruano, que sería necesario revisar. 

Dejo aquí algunas afirmaciones de la artista Micaela Aljovín:

"Todo tiene un origen en mi infancia. Desde muy chica he tenido mucho interés por los temas sociales, mucha preocupación por el comportamiento de la sociedad y el individuo en conjunto. (…) Tenía mucha preocupación por el otro, además de haber vivido en un entorno familiar muy vinculado a la política, a la historia y con una preocupación vinculada a la justicia social. (…) Creo que desde la posición que uno se encuentre, debemos aportar nuestro granito de arena para poder lograr una mejora en ese sentido."

https://cosas.pe/.../entrevista-a-micaela-aljovin-la.../

(Nota: La revista "Cosas" es el equivalente peruano de la revista española "Hola")

"¿Esta muestra es sociología, nostalgia, geometría?

Es una mezcla. Es nuestra historia. Es crítica a través de la despolitización del simbolismo de una época polémica. El resultado tiene una disposición que parecería un alfabeto, pero no lo es. Los colores son aleatorios, arbitrarios, próximos a la paleta setentera. Como el verde palta."

https://elcomercio.pe/.../exposicion-micaela-aljovin-y.../

La exposición de Aljovín no puede ser calificada como "radical" (como sostiene Gustavo Buntinx, curador de la muestra), sino que es absolutamente burguesa y no tiene nada de "social". El "verde palta" (palta en Perú significa ahuacate) puede ser un color que vaya bien en la sala de alguna casa en Miraflores, San Isidro, Casuarinas, o en otras zonas chic (pienso en las playas del Sur de Lima, por ejemplo Asia) de la profundamente fragmentada y clasista Lima.

11th Berlin Biennale: On the Human Condition

An interview by Katerina Valdivia Bruch for the journal On Curating

The 11th Berlin Biennale chose to start its activities one year before its opening date. Following a process-based curatorial approach, the team of four curators began its undertaking at the ExRotaprint complex, working in small groups, and involving the locals and the artistic community. The programme includes reflections and discussions around vulnerability, care and solidarity, as well as extractivism, fanaticism and the rise of nationalisms. While a worldwide pandemic has forced us to stop and go back to basics, all these issues have become more urgent than ever. We spoke with the curators on creating sustainable relationships, doing things on a human scale, and the meaning of community in times of the pandemic.

The Female Voice and Ways of Working from the South

Katerina Valdivia Bruch (KVB): In recent years, political identity has been a recurring topic in the arts field. The team of curators of the 11th Berlin Biennale presents itself as a female voice. What do you mean by that?

Agustín Pérez Rubio (APR): Today, after decades of feminism and queer theory, of theories on political thought around gender, there is still – mainly in society, but also in the arts field–a macho way of thinking and a reduction of powers, managed mostly by men.

When we speak about the feminine, we do not only group what is not the masculine. What we are actually doing is seeking to break the idea of machismo. As you know, in our countries – Argentina, Brazil, Chile and Spain – the situation of violence against women and LGBTQ communities is horrendous. That is why we are interested in defeating this macho and violent view of reality that is present and reproduced in many institutions as well.

KVB: How does this voice manifest itself?

APR: It's about not imposing positions, not having prejudices, being open to communication, or doing something between several people. We, with our curator's voices, are a small example of this, but you will see that several projects of the Biennale are collaborations between different artists. The idea of process, that is at the core of our project for the Biennale, is also a way of understanding this kind of voice. Also, by slowing down the machinery of the Biennale itself, in favour of more sustainable relationships with the locals and with the idea of care. All these are modes of trying to change our ways of doing and saying, which are based on feminist and queer accounts.

KVB: The South is a concept implicit in the Biennale's proposal. How would you define it? What characterises it?

Renata Cervetto (RC): We bring different ways of doing things. For example, in the way each one of us thinks the programme or an exhibition, or in our communication with other people. Improvisation comes into play, but also a different way of planning, in which things are not so regulated. We are always in this negotiation, between a less formal structure and an established institution, trying to generate more porous and fluctuating processes that adapt to the requirements of each situation.

APR: Actually, we are not thematising the South, but there is a part of our South that is impregnated in ourselves. And, with this, I don't mean only a geopolitical relationship. What interests us is to explain that there are other achievements, lessons and theories, that come from our South and from there extend to the Global South.

Establishing Sustainable Relationships

KVB: Why did you start your first actions at the ExRotaprint building complex in Wedding, a popular neighbourhood with a fairly high migrant population?

APR: It was clear to us that we didn't want to work in the city centre, nor within an art facility. We were also very careful to not further accentuate the gentrification that has already happened in certain areas of the city, occasionally as a result of the arts context. We wanted to find an initiative that was already working, an umbrella containing social, artistic, and business parts in equal terms, as it is the case of the projects developed by the ExRotaprint community. In fact, we didn't choose to work in Wedding. We chose to work with ExRotaprint, that happened to be located in Wedding. The district interested us, because of its migrant communities and also because there are other artistic initiatives nearby that have been working for some time in this neighbourhood.

RC: When we began to think about the project, we were asking ourselves how we could work with the format of the Biennale in such a way that it would generate a sort of commitment, not only with the city, but also with the people we are working with. We are not revolutionising the space or bringing in novelty. For us, it's more about integrating what people can bring to the project from what they are already doing, from their own initiatives. And that takes more time, more presence from us in the space, a different engagement. One example of this are the schools we were working with in the first stage. We offered them a project that might work for their curriculum, and opened up the space to develop it.

APR: With all this, what we are trying to do is to point out how a biennial might help to establish sustainable relationships and intertwine different agents: artistic, social, economic, political, etc., within a city, among themselves and with the rest of the community. We consider it fundamental to understand the Biennale as an open process that includes the neighborhood, the people and its initiatives, and, of course, the artistic community of Berlin. Besides this, our space at ExRotaprint is a sort of tribute to the famous CAM (Club de Artistas Modernos, English: Club of Modern Artists), founded in 1932 by Brazilian artist Flávio de Carvalho (1899-1973), who is like our ally in this Biennale's edition. We are trying to bring Flávio's experiences back to the present, and also include the current experience we are going through due to the pandemic. While the CAM of São Paulo proposed a kind of open artist workshop for the community, our idea is that of an open curatorial process, in collaboration with and open to our social surroundings in Wedding and with the ExRotaprint building complex.

Reflecting from the Arts

KVB: What were the reasons to choose to work with Flávio de Carvalho's legacy for the first phase of the Biennale?

Lisette Lagnado (LL): I have always been attracted to working with artists who have a conceptual density. For instance, I have spent many years researching Hélio Oiticica's writings. For me, it was no longer important to show his work, which was widely known, but rather to present his urban and environmental programme for the public space. The case of Flávio de Carvalho is also an example of an artist with multiple interests, including anthropology, psychoanalysis, architecture, etc. I could have started referring to theorists such as Walter Benjamin or Hannah Arendt, philosophical figures who have formed my own theoretical background, but I needed to start from an artist's point of view. This allows the Biennale to have a more conceptual structure. Of course, it is completely legitimate to take references from theorists or social scientists, but it is different to work with an artistic perspective as an entry point. From there, we can elucidate common points, difficulties or contradictions, and then contrast them with the present.

María Berríos (MB): For us, it was necessary to have something, a kind of vehicle or guiding principle that was familiar to us. This was one of the reasons why we chose to work with Flávio de Carvalho's artistic practice.

LL: We began to think about Flávio's failed experiences and how they could be contextualized today. The idea of experience brings with it the idea of failure as well, of things that don't turn out the way one wants. We are interested in dismantling a modernist narrative that only chooses the highlights within a trajectory and doesn't problematise the failures. Flávio was considered a transgressor in his time, and this also reflects how civilization has been thought of over the years.

On Building Alliances and Collective Work

KVB: The Museo de la Solidaridad Salvador Allende (Salvador Allende Solidarity Museum), presented as part of the Biennale, was inaugurated in 1972 by Brazilian art critic and journalist Mário Pedrosa, who was in exile in Chile at that time. What is the meaning of the museum in today's context?

MB: The history of the Museo de la Solidaridad has been usually told either from Allende's or from Pedrosa's perspective. But, the truth is that the principles of the museum were developed long before that. In the late 1950s in Chile, for example, there were a number of initiatives that took art to remote locations, by train or by bus, managed by an entourage of artists. The museum project itself was the collective work of a group of Chilean artists, journalists, and art historians. They were the ones who invited Mário Pedrosa to take on the direction of the museum. Many artists, including the strategic incorporation of some internationally renowned artists at the time, donated works as a political act of solidarity with the Chilean people and their struggle.

The generation of alliances between more fragile positions and the need to bring together vulnerabilities, principles that were at the base of the museum's establishment, are present in what we are doing for the Biennale. I think the Museo de la Solidaridad is an exceptional experiment in that sense.

Solidarity and Care in Times of the Pandemic

KVB: The Biennale had to close its exhibition space due to the outbreak of the coronavirus disease (Covid-19). What reflections can be drawn from this worldwide pandemic?

LL: Before closing our space, the Biennale had more than 50 invited participants. Several projects were already taking place. In the midst of all these changes, I began to reflect on how we would be able to process such a radical global change. Immediately, the motto “ninguém solta a mão de ninguém” (no one should release the hand of anyone) came to my mind. This slogan arose in 2018, as soon as the results of the presidential elections in Brazil were known. Many people went out to the streets to protest against the newly elected president Jair Bolsonaro, known for his racist and sexist statements. However, the vast majority were afraid to go out alone to demonstrate, because inside the crowd were infiltrated members of law enforcement agencies and police, who generally use violence against protesters. That phrase, told by a mother to her daughter, just before the latter was about to leave the house to protest, allowed us to feel the strength of the collectivity, of a united and protective crowd. And now I think: our strength, the fact of holding the hand of our peers, has become a danger of contagion. What a cruel contradiction!

MB: At the moment, it is fundamental to insist on different ways of supporting each other. A “social distance” is demanded, but what is actually needed is to think socially, to take care of one another. This is not just an individual or isolated act —it is a social act. The virus accentuates inequality, which means that those who will perish will be the most vulnerable. It is essential to reflect on how people are going to meet again during and after the pandemic. Instead of this, what is unfolding around the world are severe measures, typical of authoritarian regimes: border closures, police and military deployments, restrictions on free movement or citizen denunciations. The current situation forces us to think about how to slow things down, to return to a more human scale, without accentuating the fierce elitism and violent exclusion that are already structural to and systematically reproduced by the cultural institutions we work in.

RC: I believe the change has to happen first in oneself, in order to be able to transmit and generate a collective consciousness of care. This virus makes it clear: any decision one makes in relation to one's body is going to affect others sooner or later. Coping with this virus implies trusting strangers, trusting that there is someone else who takes care of herself/himself in order to take care of me as well. It is a very powerful gesture, since it generates a network of containment and support among people. We are privileged, because we have a job that allows us to think of new ways to meet and, from there, continue to build a joint journey. This also entails a great responsibility, because it is not a change that will happen in a year. It will take time to meet again, not only physically, but also emotionally and from our own feelings.

LL: Several of the urgent issues we are experiencing right now were already part of our agenda for the Biennale, among them the emphasis on the local audience, small meetings on a human scale, as well as issues on solidarity and crisis management, a job mostly done by women. Right now, borders have been closed again. This is something against essential human rights, such as mobility and the right to life, especially in the case of migrants and refugees. How can we re-found a community of human beings in a situation of confinement, prohibition of mobility, and restrictions on physical contact? It is too early to draw conclusions about this pandemic, but enough to observe that neoliberalism is fueling human arrogance, instead of reassessing and putting into place the necessary measures to provide a greener economy and global solidarity. I would like to finish with a sentence by the artist duo The Black Mamba, that sums it up quite well: “Some curves will not be flattened”.

Translation from Spanish: Katerina Valdivia Bruch

This interview took place in September 2019 at KW Institute for Contemporary Art and ExRotaprint. It was updated in May 2020, during the outbreak of the coronavirus (Covid-19) pandemic.

A shorter version of this interview, with the title “11ª Bienal de Berlín: Voces femeninas, acciones colectivas y enfoques desde el Sur”, was first published in November 2019 in the online magazine of Goethe-Institut Argentina (in Spanish and German). The Portuguese version was published in May 2020 in the online magazine of Goethe-Institut Brasil.

Katerina Valdivia Bruch is a Berlin-based independent curator and arts writer. She holds a BA in Philosophy (Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú), a Cultural Policies and Management Diploma (Universitat de Barcelona), and an MA in Museum Studies and Critical Theory (Independent Study Programme, MACBA/Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona). Katerina has curated exhibitions and organised symposia, talks and lectures for a number of institutions, including ZKM-Center for Art and Media Karlsruhe, Bielefelder Kunstverein (Bielefeld), Grimmuseum (Berlin), CCCB (Barcelona), Instituto Cervantes (Berlin and Munich), Instituto Cultural de León (Mexico), Para/Site Art Space (Hong Kong), and the Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore. In 2008, she was co-curator of the Prague Triennale at the National Gallery in Prague. Besides her work as a curator, she contributes essays, interviews and articles to art publications and magazines. Among her publications are several articles and interviews on previous editions of the Berlin Biennale, Biennale Jogja, Kochi-Muziris Biennale and Manifesta Biennale. For more information, visit www.artatak.net

Notes

11th Berlin Biennale The 11th Berlin Biennale for Contemporary Art is conceived as an extended process of unfolding artistic projects and encounters. The Biennale's presence in the city has not been limited to the dates of the exhibition. The intergenerational, female identified team of curators is composed by María Berríos from Chile, Renata Cervetto from Argentina, Lisette Lagnado from Brazil, and Agustín Pérez Rubio from Spain. They started to build up their programme in a temporary space at the architectural complex ExRotaprint, located in the district of Wedding.

The curatorial group was established from its personal backgrounds and affinities with South America, mainly Brazil, Chile and Argentina. The three countries, together with Spain, form a particular constellation, which served as a starting point for discussing various social and political issues that we are currently experiencing, such as the "return" of racist and fascist manifestations, the growth of hate speech and religious fanaticism, the appreciation of an ecological feminism, among others.

Over the last few months, the curators have developed a series of experiences in three moments:

exp. 1: The Bones of the World The experience of arriving in Berlin was marked by the meteorite that survived the fire that  burned down the National Museum in Rio de Janeiro in September 2018. It is an attempt to hold on to the complicated beauty of life when the fire erupted. It is not an obsession with the ruins, but an attempt to be attentive to what is made with the rubble. A way of working with and remaining beside that which moves us now.

exp. 2: Virginia de Medeiros and the Feminist Health Care Research Group Series of discussions and meetings on topics such as the repoliticisation of health and illness, care, accessibility and sharing vulnerabilites, amongst others.

exp. 3: Affect Archives, with Sinthujan Varatharajah and Osías Yanov Recollection and reflections on bodily memories and practices of survival, communion, borders and mobility, through different political and affective geographies.

Since September 2019, the 11th Berlin Biennale for Contemporary Art has been unfolding as a process through a series of lived experiences with exp. 1, exp. 2 and exp. 3. In a fourth step, conceived as an epilogue, the 11th Berlin Biennale will bring these experiences together with artistic participations from around the world. In their diverse modes of articulating solidarity, fragility and resistance, these contributions rise up to materialise the complicated beauty of life amidst the turbulent times we inhabit.

The Corona pandemic has affected the preparations for the 11th Berlin Biennale, which was originally scheduled from June 13 to September 13, 2020. We are currently looking into new dates, in close cooperation with the German Federal Cultural Foundation and the exhibition venues. The dates will be made public as soon as they are determined.

Berlin Biennale für zeitgenössische Kunst (11th Berlin Biennale for Contemporary Art) https://11.berlinbiennale.de/

Farid Rakun: “It is important to go back to what makes us humans”

culture360.ASEF.org features the artists’ collective ruangrupa, from Jakarta. In this article, Katerina Valdivia Bruch interviewed Farid Rakun, one of the members of ruangrupa, on topics around collective practice, the role of art in society and the next documenta.

The artists' collective ruangrupa, from Jakarta, has been appointed artistic director of the upcoming documenta fifteen, which will take place in Kassel in 2022. The collective, established in 2000, has been organising several events in Indonesia and overseas. Among their established events in Jakarta are the Jakarta International Video Festival OK.Video (since 2003), the student programme Jakarta 32°(since 2004), and some editions of the Jakarta Biennale. Since 2018, they run GUDSKUL, what they understand as “the collective of collectives” and describe it as “a public learning space”.

As a collective, ruangrupa has participated in several biennales and international exhibitions, such as Gwangju Biennale (2002 and 2018), Istanbul Biennial (2005), Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art (Brisbane, 2012), Singapore Biennale (2011), São Paulo Biennial (2014), Aichi Triennale (Nagoya, 2016) and the exhibition Cosmopolis at Centre Pompidou (Paris, 2017). In 2016, they curated TRANSaction for the Sonsbeek exhibition in 2016 (Arnhem, NL).

Farid Rakun: FR Katerina Valdivia Bruch: KVB

KVB: The idea of collaboration has been present in the majority of ruangrupa’s projects. What is going to happen to the activities you were doing during the year, now that the collective has been appointed artistic director of documenta fifteen? Are they going to continue?

FR: In 2018 we became GUDSKUL (Good School) that is understood as the collective of collectives. After being appointed to become artistic directors of the next documenta, one of the things we were thinking was how to sustain our current programmes. After some discussions, we came to the conclusion that we would like to continue them. That's our goal. If we will make it or not, that's what we are going to see. We will make sure that we continue what we already started.

Farid Rakun. Photo: © Gudskul/ Jin Panji, 2019

KVB: I think that some of these projects might be able to maintain themselves, because you already have a group of people working on them. When I was at the OK. Video Festival and the Jakarta Biennale of 2009 (both were organised by ruangrupa that year), I liked the fact that you were mobilising different communities. Some people would even start different projects out of what you proposed. For me, it was as if the spirit of ruangrupa was in the air. With your events, you were activating the whole city. You put art in non-artistic environments. For instance, part of the Jakarta Biennale was happening at the shopping mall Grand Indonesia, or some videos of the OK. Video Festival were screened in train stations.

Jakarta 32°, 2010. Photo: courtesy ruangrupa

FR: I think it is more the Jakarta spirit, and ruangrupa is part of this spirit. That's why it is quite easy to work the way we do.

KVB: In the last years, some major art events have been curated by artist collectives, such as the Shanghai Biennale in 2017 that was curated by Raqs Media Collective. And now, ruangrupa is artistic director of the next documenta. Are the artists the new curators?

FR: In our case it is quite clear. We became curators not because we wanted to take that role from the beginning. None of us learned how to become curators. It was something that came out of necessity. We needed it. We run festivals, we run lots of different events and initiatives and we needed to curate them. We learned it by doing it as part of our artistic practice. What we cannot do is to become or curate like those who were trained to be curators. We have to be honest. We don't have that sensibility. We are not trained that way.

What we know is how to curate our own way, which is coming from a different place. Whether it is called curating or not, it depends on how people understand it. There are certain things that we need to do that lots of curators would never do. And, on the other hand, there are things curators need to do and we don't. For us, the words 'artist' or 'curator' are just labels, and these are very fluid. If you think about it, throughout decades, even centuries, artists curated out of necessity.

KVB: Specially in Indonesia, where a great part of the arts scene since the early 1990s has grown out of grassroots artists' initiatives. The artists were the ones setting up the institutions that were lacking. Today, things have changed. There are already a number of art institutions, but initially that was not the case. Artists had to make things from scratch.

When I was in Indonesia, I remember that one of ruangrupa's focus area was the idea of the city and the urban environment. This time, for documenta, you have chosen the rice barn (lumbung) as a topic.

As far as I know, rice barns in Indonesia usually are constructions made with bamboo and/or wood, which are built on stilts a bit higher than the floor (around 1,50 or 2 metres below it). On top of it there is space to store the harvest, and below you will find a shady space in which people can sit and relax. This space might also be used to meet and socialise, or even to talk about business. What does the rice barn mean in the context of an international exhibition such as documenta?

FR: We use the rice barn concept as a frame of thought. For us, it is a collective pot. So far, we have been practising it in here as GUDSKUL. The rice barn principle is the way we talk to each other about what we are going to do. The term lumbung is still useful for us at the moment. We will see how long we will be using it, maybe we will drop it, maybe not. It is still an abstract idea and we are still experimenting with it. Important for us is the understanding of putting a lot of things in one pot. For instance, all that we deem to be resources: space, time, equipment, skills, knowledge, even networks, and money, of course. If you put all these elements together, then we are able to share them. How can we practice this way of understanding collectivity? This is something we are trying to figure out.

Before we brought it to documenta, we were already practicing this idea in Jakarta and later during the Sonsbeek exhibition we curated in 2016. The idea is that the concept of the rice barn becomes planetary. Let's see if that is possible.

ruru huis at Sonsbeek ’16: TRANSaction. Photo: courtesy ruangrupa

KVB: I was thinking about the architecture of the rice barn. It is not exactly on the ground. It is slightly a bit up. There is a little space between the ground and the structure, and then you have the deposit on the top part.

FR: Actually, this in-between space is very interesting, as it becomes a social space. It is similar to the modern idea of understanding the pilotis space by Le Corbusier or Mies van der Rohe, when they came up with the concept of an undefined free space under a building to act as a public space. In Indonesia, this idea was already there in vernacular architecture. Although it has another meaning, the use of the space is quite similar. And this kind of meeting space is useful for us. It is an excuse to meet more people, to have more friends. To have a roof on top of us that happens to hold certain resources. And, exactly because of that, we can do what we do below it.

KVB: I have been following some exhibitions in the last years and there is a tendency to consider the collectivity as the solution to many social and political concerns. Living in Germany for 20 years made me think that collectivity can be something good in terms of social relations and networks of solidarity, for instance if we think about initiatives for better housing conditions or sustainable networks, that support ecologist activities; but it might be also negative, if we think about radical right-wing movements.

While I was in Indonesia, I could see  that collective work is something quite common. In a conversation I had with the artist Jompet Kuswidananto he said: “Community is in our DNA.” How do you expect to spread this positive spirit of ruangrupa’s collective work to an urban context, in which networks happen more and more online, and less in real life?

FR: Collectivity is not the answer for everything, I would say. It's not a magic pill, because it all depends on the target. If you want to do something fast and productive, then it is much better to work with a company. That's just clear. Collective work is not the most effective, efficient, or even productive way of doing things. There are lots of forms of collectives. For instance, the army, which is also another type of collective. Politically speaking, from the left to the right there are a number of different collectives. There is not one way to understand them. We know our own way to understand it. We became this kind of collective, because of where we are and where we came from.

I think there is a danger to romanticise collectives, especially when it becomes a trend, which is the danger right now. But hopefully it is not like another trend. If you think about community building, technology offers another type of collectives that treats individuals differently, which is also something we can learn from. If you think about the young generation, for example, they have a different way of understanding reality, as there is almost no separation between what is real and what is virtual. They socialise and relate to each other differently. I think that it has a lot of consequences. Collectivity also grows through technology.

For us, it is important to go back to what makes us humans. We want to turn our attention to human beings and their qualities, to make sure that we are not only numbers. When we become numbers, we get reduced to become something else. I think, it is valuable to come up with human values again, such as fun, humour, or spending time together. It is very basic, but a lot of things have not been running in this way. They were not based on these values.

KVB: This point makes me think about your presentation at the Institut national d’histoire de l’art in Paris (16 November 2019). You were speaking about “stories, not theories”, as one of the main ideas of ruangrupa for the next documenta. Is this idea connected to living, experiencing art, instead of theorising about it? Which kind of stories are you looking for?

FR: We get a lot of questions about postcolonial debates, decolonisation, and other topics coming from certain theories or standpoints. They are useful to a certain extent. But, to be honest with you, for us it's like talking about real politics. It constrains the way we work, as we don't exist as a collective through these theories. What we know is that all of us has his/her own stories. For us it is a communication strategy and for us it is useful to think that way.

We are not going to come up or try to illustrate  theories. Actually, the theories of the contemporary are already happening. What we are trying to do is to let stories come up, such as fairytales, fables, or even fictions. They are telling you something, but in a different way. The response is different. You can theorise about utopia and dystopia in an academic way, which has its own use. But you can also reflect on things by reading “1984”, science fiction books, or by watching the movies “The Matrix” or “Her”, for example.

For us, our choice of communication is storytelling, instead of theorising. It can be based on living experiences. For instance, when we were kids, we listened to bedtime stories before going to sleep. Through these, we absorbed certain values that we might have translated in our real life. Stories are not prescriptive. They don't tell you how to live, but there are still certain values that you can remember. You are the one who chooses how to translate them in your everyday life. That's why storytelling is interesting for us.

KVB: Let's come to the last question, which is a broad one. What is the role of art in society? Do you believe in the transformational role of the arts?

FR: It's really difficult for us to answer this question, as for us Indonesians there is no clear separation between life and art. If you go to Bali, for example, you see the creative part of everyday life in the way they do their housing or in the daily religious rituals. People see this as a complete thing. There is no such thing as “art for art's sake” in my everyday ecosystem. And as a consequence, it is very difficult for artists around me to understand this idea.

Of course, art has a transformational role, but we don't really think about it. We are doing radio or karaoke, for example. Would you call it art? We actually don't know how we would define it. We are almost miming the everyday. All that we do is part of our artistic practice. We cannot separate life from art. Where is work? Where is life? Even for me it is quite confusing sometimes. If this is work, then it is so a lot of fun. The answer to your question is yes, but we don't ask ourselves this question. We just do!

***

Trained as an architect (B.A. in Archictecture from Universitas Indonesia and M.A. in Architecture from Cranbrook Academy of Art), Farid Rakun has been a visiting lecturer at the Architecture Department of Universitas Indonesia. He is member of the artists’ collective ruangrupa, with whom he co-curated TRANSaction: Sonsbeek 2016 in Arnhem, NL. As an instigator, he has permeated various global institutions such as Centre Pompidou, La Biennale di Venezia, MMCA Seoul, Sharjah Biennial, Bienal de São Paulo, Harun Farocki Institut, Dutch Art Institute (DAI), Creative Time, Haute école d'art et de design (HEAD) Genève, and basis voor actuele kunst (BAK). He has worked for Jakarta Biennale in different capacities since 2013 and currently serves as its interim director.

Katerina Valdivia Bruch is a Berlin-based independent curator and arts writer. She has curated exhibitions and organised several talks, symposia and lectures on Indonesian art in Germany (among them Kunstmuseum Bonn and Bielefelder Kunstverein), Mexico (Instituto Cultural de León), Hong Kong (Para Site) and Singapore (Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore). In 2011, she curated the lecture and video programme Moving Images from Indonesia, as part of the programme Curating in Asia of the exhibition The Global Contemporary: Art Worlds after 1989 at ZKM - Centre for Art and Media Karlsruhe. Additionally, she has published several articles, essays and interviews on Indonesian art, and contributed to a number of exhibition catalogues, such as Mediatopia: Krisna Murti's Works (1999-2010) on the work by video pioneer Krisna Murti, published by Semarang Art Gallery. The focus of her research and curatorial residencies in Indonesia were on artists' collectives (curatorial residency at MES 56), performativity in the visual arts and video art (Indonesian Visual Art Archive), and censorship in the visual arts in Indonesia after 1998 (Langgeng Art Foundation). www.artatak.net

Links: ruangrupa GUDSKUL documenta Sonsbeek

11ª Bienal de Berlín: Voces femeninas, acciones colectivas y enfoques desde el Sur

Una entrevista de Katerina Valdivia Bruch para el Goethe-Institut Argentinien

La undécima edición de la bienal de arte contemporáneo de Berlín cuenta con un equipo curatorial integrado por la argentina Renata Cervetto, la chilena María Berríos, la brasileña Lisette Lagnado y el español Agustín Pérez Rubio. En esta entrevista, que tuvo lugar en el KW Institute for Contemporary Art y en el ExRotaprint de la capital alemana, hablan de la curaduría como proceso, y de su enfoque en clave política y femenina desde el Sur.

La voz femenina y las formas de trabajar desde el Sur

La identidad política es un tema actualmente muy presente en el campo del arte. Ustedes se presentan como una voz femenina. ¿Qué es lo que entienden por esa voz?

Agustín Pérez Rubio (APR): Hoy en día, después de décadas de feminismo y teoría queer, de teoría de pensamiento político en torno al género, aún sigue habiendo, sobre todo en la sociedad y también en el arte, un pensamiento machista y una reducción de los poderes, gestionados en su mayoría por hombres.

En la manera en que enuncias, estás proyectando. No pensamos en términos biologistas. Cuando enunciamos lo femenino, no sólo agrupamos esa parte que no es la masculina, sino justamente buscamos quebrar esa idea de machismo. Como sabemos, en nuestros países la situación de la violencia contra las mujeres y los colectivos LGBTQ es horrorosa. Por eso nos interesa quebrar esa mirada machista, violenta, que está presente también en las instituciones.

Quizá podríamos decir que somos un grupo que se asume desde el Sur, femenino, no biologista, pero es demasiado específico, sobre todo en una frase.

¿De qué forma se manifiesta esa voz?

APR: Se trata de no imponer posturas, no tener prejuicios, estar abierto a la comunicación, hacer algo entre varios. Nosotros somos un pequeño ejemplo, pero verá que varios proyectos de la bienal son colaboraciones entre varios artistas. Una de las iniciativas que queremos readecuar con nuestro proyecto para la bienal es esa idea de proceso, que también es una manera de entender ese tipo de voz.

El Sur es un concepto implícito en la propuesta de la bienal. ¿Cómo lo definirían? ¿Qué es lo que lo caracteriza?

APR: Nosotros no estamos tematizando el Sur. Al contrario, lo estamos entendiendo. Hay una parte de nuestro Sur que lo llevamos impregnado. Y no se trata sólo de una relación geopolítica, sino de una serie de logros, aprendizajes, teorías, etc.

Renata Cervetto (RC): Traemos formas de hacer distintas, por ejemplo en la forma cómo cada uno de nosotros piensa el programa o una muestra, o en la comunicación con la gente. Entran en juego la improvisación, una planificación distinta, donde no todo está tan reglamentado. Estamos todo el tiempo en esa negociación, entre una estructura y una institución como la Bienal de Berlín, tratando de generar procesos más porosos, más fluctuantes, que puedan cambiar.

¿Por qué eligieron iniciar sus primeras acciones en el ExRotaprint en Wedding, un barrio popular con una población de origen migrante bastante alta?

APR: Hemos escogido el ExRotaprint, en Wedding. Si no estaba el ExRotaprint, no veníamos a Wedding, porque no hubiéramos escogido un edificio vacío de apartamentos o una casa antigua, que luego podría ser comprada por un empresario. Eso ya se ha visto y todo Berlín está así, gentrificado. Lo interesante era no crear algo que no estuviera ya creado, sino estar en un paraguas que contenga una parte social, política y artística, pero también de negocio. De otra manera, no hubiéramos venido. No es solamente Wedding, sino nos interesa el contexto en el que estamos trabajando.

RC: No estamos revolucionando el espacio o trayendo la novedad. Se trata más bien de integrar lo que esas personas pueden aportar al proyecto a partir de su propia iniciativa. Y eso lleva más tiempo, más presencia en el espacio, un compromiso diferente. Un ejemplo son las cinco escuelas con las que trabajaremos en esta primera etapa. Nosotros les ofrecemos un proyecto, que tal vez les pueda servir para sus currículas, y abrimos el espacio para su uso. Normalmente abrimos de jueves a sábado, pero si las escuelas pueden venir un martes, entonces abrimos un martes.

¿Qué rol asume la pedagogía aquí? ¿Suple alguna carencia de algún espacio de instrucción?

RC: No suple, sino que suma, porque genera espacios de encuentro que de otra forma no serían posibles. Artistas, profesores, estudiantes, personas de distintos campos, que no necesariamente se encontrarían en una escuela, quizás se encuentren en estos espacios que generamos con esa intención.

Sobre la creación de alianzas y el trabajo colectivo

El Museo de la Solidaridad Salvador Allende, que se presenta como parte de la bienal, fue inaugurado en 1972 por el crítico de arte y periodista brasileño Mário Pedrosa, exiliado en Chile en ese momento. ¿Qué significa el Museo de la Solidaridad en el contexto de hoy?

María Berríos (MB): La manera en que la historia del Museo de la Solidaridad se ha contado ha sido mucho desde Allende, desde Pedrosa, pero la verdad es que los principios del museo ya se estaban gestando en Chile desde hace mucho tiempo. Muchos artistas, periodistas e historiadores del arte chilenos estaban trabajando en el proyecto del museo para hacerlo posible. Todas esas personas, que llevaban años trabajando en iniciativas semejantes, invitaron a Mário Pedrosa para asumir la dirección de esa iniciativa. Además, el museo fue impulsado en su etapa inicial desde el exilio, sobre todo por mujeres.

También hubo muchas donaciones de obras de artistas reconocidos.

MB: En ese momento no era un museo, sino que eran sólo donaciones de artistas. Se trataba de un acto político de solidaridad con el pueblo de Chile. Es así como nace el museo. Esa idea de generar alianzas, la necesidad de juntar vulnerabilidades, está totalmente presente en lo que estamos haciendo para la bienal. Ver cómo nos juntamos en este estado de quebramiento. Y creo que el Museo de la Solidaridad es un experimento excepcional en ese sentido.

Lisette, la Bienal de São Paulo, que usted curó en el año 2006, tenía como título “Cómo vivir juntos”. ¿Cómo entiende el tema de la convivencia?

Lisette Lagnado: La inauguración de la bienal fue durante el segundo gobierno de Lula y ya estábamos viviendo el comienzo de la campaña contra la corrupción, que fue instrumentalizada y concluyó con la destitución de Dilma Rousseff.

Cuando lo pienso, las prácticas colaborativas que se dieron en mi bienal hoy no serían posibles. En ese momento, los avances sociales fueron increíbles, por ejemplo en términos de prácticas queer. Además, la noción de extractivismo cultural estaba muy presente en la consciencia de los artistas.

Fue una bienal que planteó proyectos colectivos con una presencia grande de activistas, algo inesperado para la Bienal de São Paulo, caracterizada por una fuerte carga museológica. Pienso que hoy la bienal “Cómo vivir juntos” sería en cierto sentido la bienal de la solidaridad.

La convivencia con las curadoras de la décimo primera Bienal de Berlín, en el formato en el que me encuentro hoy, es un formato mucho más colaborativo. En el formato anterior, yo tenía co-curadores que eran asociados, y es algo muy distinto a trabajar a partir de voces iguales, como sucede en esta bienal.

11a Bienal de Berlín

https://11.berlinbiennale.de/

exp. 1: Das Gerippe der Welt (Los huesos del mundo)

07.09.–09.11.2019

exp. 2: Virginia de Medeiros – Feministische Gesundheitsrecherchegruppe (Virginia de Medeiros: Grupo Feminista de Investigación para la Salud)

30.11.2019–08.02.2020

exp. 3

22.02.–02.05.2020

epílogo – 11a Bienal de Berlín

13.06.–13.09.2020

Autora: Katerina Valdivia Bruch es curadora y crítica de arte independiente. Vive y trabaja en Berlín.

Enlaces sobre el tema

Gabi Ngcobo: “We are all postcolonial”

Künstler-und Kiezgemeinschaften gegen Verdrängung

Biennalen und Stadtentwicklung – Mythos oder Realität?

Bienal de São Paulo “Cómo vivir juntos”

ExRotaprint

KW Institute for Contemporary Art

>> Deutsche Fassung

Künstler- und Kiezgemeinschaften gegen Verdrängung

Berlin ist seit einigen Jahren von steigenden Mieten betroffen. Viele Einwohner wehren sich dagegen, unter anderem mit Protest-Aktionen, die zum Teil sehr kreativ sind. Können diese Proteste gegen Verdrängung und steigende Mieten etwas bewirken?

Von Katerina Valdivia Bruch für Goethe-Institut Italien

Bis vor einigen Jahren galt Berlin als Paradies der niedrigen Mieten. Heutzutage ist die deutsche Hauptstadt von Immobilien-Spekulation und Mieterhöhungen betroffen. Eine der Folgen ist die Verdrängung von mehreren Stadteinwohnern und die Schließung von Geschäften. In Berlin gibt es über zwei hundert Mieterinitiativen, die sich gegen Verdrängung und steigenden Mieten einsetzen. Ein Beispiel ist die Mietergemeinschaft Kotti & Co., die im Jahr 2012 einen informellen Gecekondu (Türkisch „über Nacht erbaut“) am U-Bahnhof Kottbusser Tor erbaut hat. Seitdem treffen sich dort regelmäßig Nachbarn, um mögliche Aktionen und Proteste gegen Verdrängung zu besprechen und aktiv zu gestalten. Die Initiative, die als informelle Aktion startete, hat große Aufmerksamkeit erlangt. Im Jahr 2015 war Kotti & Co. Teil der Ausstellung, Publikationsreihe und Akademie Wohnungsfrage am Haus der Kulturen der Welt, die sich unter anderem mit Möglichkeiten von bezahlbaren Wohnräumen und alternativen Wohnkonzepten im urbanen Kontext beschäftigte. Der Kampf gegen Verdrängung schafft Räume für den Dialog zwischen Menschen aus unterschiedlichsten Hintergründen, die unter anderen Bedingungen eventuell nie ins Gespräch kommen würden. Nachbarn lernen sich kennen, engagieren sich, demonstrieren gegen Mieterhöhungen und stehen kündigungsbedrohten Mietern und Kiez-Geschäften mit Rat und Tat zur Seite. Unterstützt werden sie von Initiativen wie Bizim Kiez (Bizim bedeutet „Unser“ auf Türkisch), eine Initiative, die vor dem Hintergrund der Kündigung des Bizim Bakkal-Gemüsehändlers ins Leben gerufen wurde. Oder die Initiative FuckOffGoogle, die gegen die Eröffnung eines Google-Campus in der Kreuzberger Ohlauer Straße kämpfte und es geschafft hat, den Einzug des Profit-Konzerns in einer überwiegend linksorientierten Wohngegend zu verhindern.      

Lause bleibt! – Kreative Protestform gegen Verdrängung  

Das Prozedere der Investoren und Immobilienmakler sieht in der Regel so aus: Ganze Gebäude werden gekauft, saniert und später als Eigentums-/Mietflächen viel teurer als die Ursprungspreise angeboten. Dadurch werden einige einkommensschwache Stadtteile der Berliner Innenstadt durch Bewohnern mit höheren Einkommen ersetzt. Das sollte auch mit den Wohn-und Gewerbeflächen in der Lausitzer Straße 10 und 11 passieren. Beide Gebäude sollten verkauft werden und daraus Luxuswohnungen entstehen. Jedoch laufen noch Verhandlungen dem Eigentümer und den Altmietern. Die Mieter möchten Wege finden, wie sie dauerhaft dort bleiben können, denn keiner will ausziehen.

In den beiden Häusern leben und arbeiten über hundert Menschen, unter anderem verschiedene Kreative, linksorientierte Aktivisten und Kollektive. Seit 2016 haben sie sich unter dem Namen „Lause bleibt!“ als Kollektiv organisiert und führen unterschiedliche kreative Protest-Aktionen gegen den dänischen Immobilienmakler und Kunstmäzen Jørn Tækker durch.

Die Gemeinschaft, die durch den Kampf gegen Jørn Tækker entstanden ist, fühlt sich mittlerweile wie eine große Familie. Umso schwieriger ist es für sie, ihre Wohn- und Arbeitsräume zu verlassen.       

Lause TV // 2019 Regie & Schnitt: Claire Roggan Kamera: Michael Zimmer Produktion: Neue Ufer Filmproduktion

Wo Kunst entsteht, hat oft Aufwertung einer Gegend und teure Mieten zur Folge. Mit der Ausrede der sogenannten „Kultur- und Kreativwirtschaft“ spekulieren Investoren und Immobilienmarkler mit Wohn- und Arbeitsflächen in der Innenstadt. Auch der Kunstmäzen Tækker wünscht sich „kreative Bezirke“ zu gestalten, ohne zu berücksichtigen, dass genau die Künstler, die er als Klientel gerne hätte, Widerstand gegen ihn leisten würden.

Wir haben uns mit drei Künstlerinnen getroffen, die seit 2018 unterschiedliche Veranstaltungen in der Lausitzer Straße organisieren. Sie berichten über einige ihrer kulturellen Aktivitäten und Protest-Aktionen der „Lause bleibt!“:

Ob diese Proteste, Veranstaltungen und Kunstaktionen zu einem erfolgreichen Abschluss kommen werden, ist noch ungewiss.

Einst ist klar für Berlin: Die Einwohner mobilisieren sich und haben als gemeinsames Ziel bezahlbare Wohnräume zu erhalten und steigende Mietpreise zu stoppen. Die kollektive Kraft soll es eventuell möglich machen. „Die Stadt gehört uns“ lautet eines der Parolen. Da ist was Wahres dran.

Autorin

Katerina Valdivia Bruch ist freie Kuratorin, Autorin und Kunstkritikerin. Sie lebt und arbeitet in Berlin.

Copyright: Text: Goethe-Institut, Katerina Valdivia Bruch. Dieser Text ist lizenziert unter einer Creative Commons Namensnennung – Weitergabe unter gleichen Bedingungen 3.0 Deutschland Lizenz.

BIOGRAFIEN DER INTERVIEW-PARTNERINNEN (in der Reihenfolge des Auftretens auf dem Video)

Alexandra Klobouk ist Autorin und Kulturillustratorin zwischen Berlin und der Welt. In ihrer Arbeit mischt sie Genres von Journalismus bis Visual Storytelling. Bisher sind folgende Bücher von ihr erschienen: Istanbul, mit scharfe Soße?, Polymeer, Der Islam für Kinder, Die portugiesische Küche und Lissabon, im Land am Rand. Sie arbeitet als Illustratorin für verschiedene Medien wie SZ-Magazin, ZEIT-Magazin, Merian, Kurier und war Ideengeberin für Picture Politics, eine internationale Initiative des Goethe-Instituts.

Konstanze Schmitt ist bildende Künstlerin und Theaterregisseurin, sowie Dozentin für  Performance und Theater im Masterstudiengang „Raumstrategien“ an der Kunsthochschule Berlin-Weißensee. Ausgehend von dokumentarischem und biografischem Material und in Interaktion mit politischen Kontexten, erforschen ihre Performances und Installationen Möglichkeiten und Wirklichkeiten von Utopien, wie zum Beispiel kommunistische Sehnsucht und romantische Liebe.

Die schwedische Sopranistin Marieke Wikesjo tritt als Opern-, Konzert- und Oratoriensängerin regelmäßig in Deutschland, Österreich, Italien und Skandinavien auf.

Links zum Thema

Kotti & Co.

Video: Miete essen Seelen auf (Kotti & Co. | ARTE Dokumentation)

Bizim Kiez

FuckOffGoogle

Lause bleibt! - Webseite

Lause bleibt! - Facebook

Umbruch Bildarchiv

Alexandra Klobouk

Konstanze Schmitt

Marieke Wikesjo

Duetas Berlin: Candy Siu und Marieke Wikesjo

Orte für Kunst in Berlin: Das silent green Kulturquartier, die Reinbeckhallen und das KINDL - Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst

In Berlin kommt es oft vor, dass verlassene und zum Teil heruntergekommene Bauten aufgewertet werden und sich zu neuen Kunstorten entwickeln. Wir zeigen ein ehemaliges Krematorium, eine frühere Transformatorenfabrik und eine Brauerei, die heute Kunst beherbergen.

Von Katerina Valdivia Bruch für das Goethe-Institut Italien

Das silent green Kulturquartier

Vom Trauerort zum Ort für interdisziplinäre Kunst

Eingang des ehemaligen Krematoriums Wedding. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Die Geschäftsführer*innen von silent green, die Filmschaffende Bettina Ellerkamp und Jörg Heitmann, haben im Jahr 2013 das denkmalgeschütze Gebäude gekauft, renoviert und 2015 als Kulturquartier eröffnet. In den 90er Jahren gehörten sie zur Gruppe rund um den Verein Botschaft, der das ehemalige WMF-Gebäude im Ostteil Berlins besetzt hatte. Dank ihrer Erfahrung mit der Sanierung von alten Bauten, sind sie bewusst mit der Geschichte des Krematoriums umgegangen. Das Haus bietet heutzutage organisierte historische Führungen an.

Fassade des silent greens Kulturquartiers, Eingang über Gerichtstr. 35 in Berlin-Wedding. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Schwerpunkte des Hauses sind Bewegtbild, Bildende Kunst und Musik, verteilt auf 13 Mieteinheiten, unter anderem S A V V Y Contemporary, die Galerie Ebensperger Rhomberg, das Musiklabel !K7, das Musicboard Berlin, das Living Archive des Arsenal – Institut für Film- und Videokunst e.V. oder das Harun Farocki Institut.

Die Kuppelhalle. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Die Kuppelhalle, einst Trauerort, wird heute für interdisziplinäre Veranstaltungen vermietet. Hier finden unter anderem Konzerte, Lesungen, Vorträge und Performances statt.

Bild 4: Eingang der neu eröffneten Betonhalle im Untergrund des Krematoriums. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Am 6. Februar 2019 wurde die neue Betonhalle im unterirdischen Bereich des Areals mit der Ausstellung „Antikino (The Siren's Echo Chamber)“ vom Forum Expanded der 69. Berlinale eröffnet.

Raumansicht der Ausstellung „Antikino (The Siren's Echo Chamber)“, Forum Expanded der 69. Berlinale. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Bereits im Jahr 2013 organisierte das Forum Expanded der Berlinale seine erste Veranstaltung in den noch nicht sanierten Räumlichkeiten.

Der neue Flügel. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Die Räume im neuen Flügel werden für Veranstaltungen, wie etwa Workshops, Seminare oder Tagungen, vermietet.

Eingang des Restaurants MARS. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Das Namensschild des Restaurants MARS wurde vom Videokünstler Bjørn Melhus, anhand eines vorgefundenden Schildes der Firma OSRAM, entworfen.

Die Reinbeckhallen

Direkt an der Spree und tief im Osten der Stadt

Fassade der Reinbeckhallen in der Reinbeckstraße 17, in Berlin-Schöneweide. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Dicht bei der Hochschule für Technik und Wirtschaft liegen die Reinbeckhallen, die im Jahr 2017 eröffnet wurden. Der Galerist und Sammler Sven Herrmann, der hier in Schöneweide aufgewachsen ist, hat das Areal 2004 gekauft.

Ansicht einer der Veranstaltungsflächen. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Einige Räume werden für verschiedene Veranstaltungen vermietet, zum Teil auch für sogenannte „Corporate Events“. Auf dieser Fläche fand zum Beispiel die Performance „Projecting [Space[“ der Choreografin Meg Stuart statt, die vom HAU Theater speziell für diesen Ort organisiert und im Rahmen der Berlin Art Week im September 2018 präsentiert wurde.

Eröffnung der Ausstellung „Zwischen Schein und Sein. Modegrafik in der DDR 1960–1989“. Foto: Doreen Reichenbach

Die ehemalige Transformatorenfabrik organisiert ihr eigenes Ausstellungs- und Residenzprogamm. Aktuell liegt der Schwerpunkt auf Kunst, Design und Fotografie der ehemaligen DDR, wie etwa die kommende Ausstellung „Die Ostdeutschen“ mit Fotografien von Roger Melies.

Modeschau während der Eröffnung von „Zwischen Schein und Sein. Modegrafik in der DDR 1960–1989“. Foto: Doreen Reichenbach

Zum Programm der Ausstellung wurden auch Workshops, Vorträge über das Thema Mode und Atelierbesuche angeboten, die seit Januar 2019 zum Projekt DIALOG MODE gehören.

Holzwerkstatt. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

In den Hallen werden auch Möbel geschnitzt …

Druckwerkstatt. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

… und in der Druckwerstatt werden verschiedene Kurse angeboten. Die Werkstatt produziert auch Material für die Ausstellungen in den Hallen, beispielsweise für die Ausstellung über kubanische Kunst „Otro amanecer en el trópico“ (Dt.: Ein weiterer Tagesanbruch in den Tropen)

Außenansicht der Ateliers. Foto: © Katerina Valdivia Bruch

Die Reinbeckhallen vermieten Ateliers an unterschiedliche Künstler*innen. Einige dieser Räume stehen für Residenzprogramme zur Verfügung.

Das KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst

Hier wird Kunst gebraut

Außenansicht des KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst, 2017. Foto: Daniel Bokor

In unmittelbarer Nähe zum Tempelhofer Feld, unweit vom Volkspark Hasenheide und vom neuköllner Schiller-Kiez entfernt, liegt das KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst.

Roman Signer „Kitfox Experimental“, 2014, Installation im Kesselhaus des KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst, Berlin, 14. September 2014 - 28. Juni 2015. Foto: Jens Ziehe

Das in Zürich lebende Sammlerehepaar, Salome Grisard und Burkhard Varnholt, erwarb das Industriedenkmal im Jahr 2011. Bereits im Jahr 2014, zur Einweihung des frisch sanierten Kesselhauses, stellten sie die Installation „Kitfox Experimental“ von Roman Signer aus. Das gesamte Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst, mit seinen insgesamt drei Ausstellungsetagen, wurde allerdings erst 2016 eröffnet.

Café im KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst im Sudhaus. Foto: Jens Ziehe

Das Café Babette beeindruckt mit seinen sechs imposanten Kupferkesseln aus Bierbrauerzeiten.

„How Long Is Now?“, Ausstellung im Maschinenhaus (Erdgeschoss M0) des KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst, 23. Oktober 2016 - 19. Februar 2017. Foto: Marco Funke

Schwerpunkt sind Ausstellungen über internationale Gegenwartskunst mit einem hohen Anteil von in Berlin lebenden Künstler*innen, wobei die kuratorische Auswahl unabhängig von der Herkunft der Künstlerinnen erfolgt.

Jonathan Monk „Exhibit Model Four – plus invited guests“, Installationsansicht Maschinenhaus M1, KINDL – Zentrum für Zeitgenössische Kunst, 10.03.–21.07.2019. Foto: Jens Ziehe

Das KINDL ist eine gemeinnützige Einrichtung, die mit verschiedenen Kulturinstitutionen und -veranstaltern kooperiert, unter anderem mit den Festivals „Tanz im August“ oder „48 Stunden Neukölln“. Darüber hinaus werden die Räume für unterschiedliche Events vermietet.

Jonathan Monk „Exhibit Model Four – plus invited guests“, Installationsansicht Maschinenhaus M1, KINDL – Zentrum für Zeitgenössische Kunst, 10.03.–21.07.2019. Foto: Jens Ziehe

Andreas Fiedler, der künstlerische Direktor, ist verantwortlich für das Programm und für die Auswahl der Gastkurator*innen. Er kuratierte die aktuelle Ausstellung „Jonathan Monk „Exhibit Model Four – plus invited guests““.

Raumansicht der Ausstellung „Behind the Screen“. Maschinenhaus M2, KINDL – Zentrum für Zeitgenössische Kunst, 10.03.–21.07.2019. Foto: Jens Ziehe, 2019

Die aktuelle Ausstellung „Behind the Screen“ wurde von Anne Schwanz als Gastkuratorin organisiert.

Autorin

Katerina Valdivia Bruch ist freie Kuratorin, Autorin und Kunstkritikerin. Sie lebt und arbeitet in Berlin.

Links zum Thema

silent green Kulturquartier

Publikation: Jutta Zitzewitz, „silent green: Vom Krematorium zum Kulturquartier“

https://www.amazon.de/Silent-Green-Vom-Krematorium-Kulturquartier/dp/3422074422/

Reinbeckhallen

KINDL – Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst

http://www.kindl-berlin.de/

Berlin - Postmigrantisch, postkolonial, postmodern?

Trifft der Begriff postmigrantisch auf Berlin zu? Wie postkolonial ist die deutsche Hauptstadt? Können wir noch von Postmoderne in Berlin sprechen? Unsere Autorin, sie seit 2000 in Berlin lebt, hat drei Wahlberliner mit diesen Fragen konfrontiert.

Von Katerina Valdivia Bruch für  Goethe-Institut Italien

María Linares – Berlin als „demigrantische“ Gesellschaft

María Linares ist eine kolumbianische Künstlerin, die seit 1996 in Deutschland lebt. Derzeit promoviert sie im Fachbereich Freie Kunst an der Bauhaus-Universität Weimar mit dem Titel Zur Utopie einer vorurteilsfreien Gesellschaft. Ihre Arbeitsfelder sind Kunst im öffentlichen Raum und partizipatorische Kunstaktionen. Seit einigen Jahren beschäftigt sie sich in ihrer Arbeit mit Vorurteilen, Rassismus und Identitätsfragen. María Linares war Mitinitiatorin der Citizen Art Days und des Künstlerkollektivs daily services.

Über STEREOTYPES:

STEREOTYPES ist eine Kunstaktion für den öffentlichen Raum. Personen verschiedener Länder tragen T-Shirts bedruckt mit negativen Vorurteilen gegenüber ihrem jeweiligen Land, sowie Fragmenten aus der entsprechenden Nationalflagge. Gebrandmarkt mit den T-Shirts verkörpern sie im Stadtraum das, was ihnen als Klischee zugeschrieben wird.

Mnyaka Sururu Mboro – Das Warten hat sich gelohnt

Mnyaka Sururu Mboro, Gründungs- und Vorstandsmitglied von Berlin Postkolonial e.V., ist ein Aktivist aus Tansania, der sich mit der Kolonialgeschichte der deutschen Hauptstadt beschäftigt. Die Rückführung menschlicher Gebeine, die aus Kolonien in Afrika gestohlen und für rassistische Forschungen nach Deutschland gebracht wurden, ist eines seiner Hauptanliegen. Ein weiteres Schwerpunktthema ist die Umbenennung von Straßen, die nach deutschen kolonialen Verbrecher*innen benannt wurden. Er setzt sich aktiv ein, damit diese nach afrikanischen Widerstandskämpfer*innen neu benannt werden.

Claudia Kromrei – Postmodern als wiederkehrender Begriff

Die Architektin Claudia Kromrei lehrt Architekturtheorie und -geschichte in Bremen und St. Gallen (Schweiz). Sie forscht und veröffentlicht Texte zur Theorie und Geschichte der Architektur und der Stadt. Ihre letzte Veröffentlichung Postmodern Berlin. Wohnbauten der 80er Jahre ist 2018 im schweizer Niggli Verlag erschienen.

Autor

Katerina Valdivia Bruch ist freie Kuratorin, Autorin und Kunstkritikerin. Sie lebt und arbeitet in Berlin.

Copyright: Text: Goethe-Institut, Katerina Valdivia Bruch. Dieser Text ist lizenziert unter einer Creative Commons Namensnennung – Weitergabe unter gleichen Bedingungen 3.0 Deutschland Lizenz. März 2019

Links zum Thema

María Linares

Berlin Postkolonial e.V.

No Humboldt21!

Ausstellung: „Deutscher Kolonialismus. Fragmente seiner Geschichte und Gegenwart“ (Deutsches Historisches Museum)

Claudia Kromrei, „Postmodern Berlin. Wohnbauten der 80er Jahre“

Manifesta 12 - Wir sind alle Palermitaner

Palermo als Sinnbild der gegenwärtigen Problematik Europas? Die europäische Wanderbiennale Manifesta setzt sich unter anderem mit Stadtentwicklung, Migration und Überwachung auseinander.

Von Katerina Valdivia Bruch für Goethe-Institut Italien

Ein Ort der Utopien?

Migration ist kein neuer Begriff für die Palermitaner. Die Hauptstadt Siziliens war schon immer ein Ort des Aufeinandertreffens von Kulturen, die ihren kulturellen Einfluss in der Stadt hinterlassen haben.

So selbstverständlich ist es, dass Leoluca Orlando, langjähriger Bürgermeister von Palermo und überzeugter Menschenrechtler und Mafiabekämpfer, die Carta di Palermo (2015) ins Leben gerufen hat. Ein Dokument, welches die internationale Mobilität zum Menschenrecht erklärt. Für ihn gibt es keine Migranten in der Stadt, denn „Wer in Palermo lebt, ist Palermitaner“, so der Bürgermeister. In der gegenwärtigen Situation Europas, wo neue Grenzen geschaffen werden und nationalistisches Gedankengut auf dem Vormarsch ist, klingt Orlandos Politik fast wie eine Verheißung.

Die Botschaft eines friedlichen Zusammenlebens und Austauschs der Menschen wird beispielhaft unter dem Titel The Planetary Garden. Cultivating Coexistence am Botanischen Garten, eines der Hauptorten der Manifesta, präsentiert. Seit 1795 werden dort die unterschiedlichsten Pflanzen erforscht. Wie etwa mit der Arbeit Foreign Farmers (2018) des italienischen Künstlers Leone Contini, der seit zehn Jahren Saaten sammelt, die von den neuen Palermitanern in die Stadt eingeführt wurden. Wie damals Phönizier, Karthager, Griechen, Araber, Römer, Normanen, Spanier ihr eigenes Saatgut eingeführt haben, gedeihen heute Saaten aus verschiedenen afrikanischen und asiatischen Ländern.

Die Politik der positiven Aufnahme von Migranten ist jedoch nicht unproblematisch wegen der hohen Arbeitslosigkeit in der Stadt. Die Biennale beschäftigt sich mit aktuellen Themen der Migration nach Europa, vergisst dabei aber die lange Geschichte der italienischen Auswanderung. Nach der Gründung Italiens, um 1861, verließen zu unterschiedlichen Perioden massenhaft Menschen das Land.

Visionäre Stadtentwicklung?

Die Biennale findet überwiegend im historischen Zentrum Palermos statt. Verfallene Palazzi erzählen uns von der historischen Bedeutung der Metropole am Mittelmeer.

Das vom niederländischen Architekten Rem Koolhaas geleitete Büro OMA hat das Konzept Palermo Atlas für die Biennale entwickelt. Sie enthält eine urbanistische Studie der Stadt, einschließlich der Zwischennutzung von historischen Bauten. Inwiefern diese die zukünftige Stadtentwicklung beeinflussen wird, muss man abwarten.

Die deutsche Künstlerin Katharina Sieverding, die seit Jahren die Möglichkeiten großformatiger Fotografie und der Manipulation von Bildern erforscht, war im März 2018 zwei Wochen in Palermo, um ihre Retrospektive am Haus der Kunst vorzubereiten, die zu den Collateral Events der Biennale gehört. Die ehemalige Beuys Meisterschülerin versteht die politische Stellungnahme der Kunst und „war entsetzt über die immer noch sichtbaren Spuren der Zerstörung durch das amerikanische Bombardement“, erklärt der Kurator der Ausstellung und Gründer des Vereins Düsseldorf-Palermo, Michael Kortländer. So gibt es beispielsweise bis heute U.S.-Amerikanische Militärstützpunkte auf Sizilien, die von den Einwohnern stark abgelehnt werden. Die Satellitenkommunikationssysteme der Navy sind weltweit verbunden und werden unter anderem für Drohnenanschläge eingesetzt. Weitere Themen der globalen Vernetzung, wie Überwachung, Gesichtserkennung oder der Ansammlung von Big Data sind unter dem Titel Out of Control Room Teil des Manifesta-Programms.

Sieverdings Retrospektive, Palermo, die vom Düsseldorf-Palermo e.V. organisiert wurde, zeigt autobiografische und politische Arbeiten, aus den Jahren 1969 bis 2017 und die sich an die Themen der Biennale anlehnen. Seit 2016 hat der Verein einen Ausstellungsraum am Cantieri Culturali alla Zisa, eine ehemalige Möbelfabrik, die heutzutage mehrere Kultureinrichtungen beherbergt.

Der Verein arbeitet zudem mit dem benachbarten Goethe-Institut Palermo, der Kunstakadamie oder Cre.Zi.Plus, einem Multifunktionsort für Kreative, zusammen. Ziel ist die Förderung des kulturellen und künstlerischen Austauschs zwischen den Städten Palermo und Düsseldorf.

Ich bin Du

Katharina Sieverdings Kunst war seit Jahren ohnehin politisch engagiert. Ihre Arbeit Deutschland wird deutscher von 1992, die sich gegen das wieder aufkeimende nationalistische Denken nach dem Fall der Berliner Mauer wendet, ist immer noch relevant. 1993 nahm sie an der Wanderausstellung I am You mit Plakaten gegen Fremdenhass teil. Die Flüchtlingsthematik in der Ausstellung wird etwa an der Arbeit Global Desire II. Am falschen Ort (2017) präsent, die das Bild von Zaatari, die größte Siedlung von Syrern in Jordanien, mit dem eines russischen Jagdbombers zur Bekämpfung syrischer Rebellen konfrontiert.

Die Biennale denunziert soziales Unrecht und plädiert für ein harmonisches Zusammenleben in einer multikulturellen Gesellschaft. Auch wenn das momentan utopisch klingen mag, so ist es doch umso erstrebenswerter.

Sieverding. Palermo.

Cantieri Culturali alla Zisa Haus der Kunst Via Paolo Gili, 4 90138 Palermo

Manifesta 12, bis zum 4. November 2018 in Palermo, Italien

Links zum Thema

Manifesta 12 Palermo

Carta di Palermo

Verein Düssseldorf-Palermo (Facebook)

Fotografie: Katharina Sieverding (Arte Tv)

Biennalen und Stadtentwicklung – Mythos oder Realität?

documenta 14 – Politik und Kunst. Unterwegs in Athen

Zum ersten Mal findet die documenta in zwei Städten statt. Der erste Teil wird in Athen präsentiert. Doch wie wird die Ausstellung von den Künstlern und lokalen Besuchern in der Hauptstadt Griechenlands wahrgenommen? Wie politisch ist die Kunstschau? Warum wird sie so heftig kritisiert? Katerina Valdivia Bruch unterhielt sich mit drei Besuchern vor Ort.

(scroll down for the English version) 

Der öffentliche Raum in Athen ist voll von Kunst. Mehrere U-Bahn Haltestellen sind, unabhängig von der documenta, mit Kunstwerken bespielt. Gleich an der Station „Omonia“ packt mich die Arbeit The Tail von Nikos Kessanlis. Ich tauche am Omonia-Platz auf. Er ist bedeckt von einem grünen Netz. Was auf dem ersten Blick wie eine Baustelle aussieht, stellt sich als die Arbeit Invisible City des deutschen Künstlers Gregor Schneider heraus. Sie gehört zum Fast Forward Festival 4 des Onassis Cultural Centres. Ich bin mit dem Künstler Giorgios Sachinis von der Initiative UrbanDig Project verabredet. Er probt mit seinen Kolleginnen für eine Performance, die hier am Omonia-Platz während des Athens & Epidaurus Festivals aufgeführt werden soll. Um uns in Ruhe zu unterhalten, gehen wir ins Café Veneti. Während er mir erklärt, dass er sich mehr Kooperationen mit der Athener Künstlerszene von Seitens der documenta gewünscht hätte, um richtig von Athen zu lernen, kommt die Künstlerin Aemilia Papaphilippou dazu. Kritisch sieht sie die Einschränkung der Kunst durch das Konzept der documenta.

Aemilia Papaphilippou – Künstlerin, lebt und arbeitet in Athen

Das EMST (Nationale Museum für Zeitgenössische Kunst, Athen) wurde im Oktober 2016 wiedereröffnet. Die ehemalige Brauerei ist einer der Hauptorte der documenta 14. Ich befinde mich in der obersten Etage, mit Blick auf die Akropolis. Dort treffe ich eine Gruppe von Menschen unterschiedlicher Nationalitäten, die gerade einen der sogenannten Walks der documenta hinter sich hat und intensiv über die Ausstellung und deren politische Botschaft diskutieren. Einer von ihnen spricht über den Einfluss Asiens und Afrikas auf die griechische Antike und auf Europa. Es ist der in Kassel lebende Künstler Zaki Al-Maboren. Zaki arbeitet für den documenta 14-Chorus und ist in Athen, um sich über die Künstler und deren Werke zu informieren und dabei seine eigene Arbeit in Kassel vorzubereiten.

Zaki Al-Maboren – Künstler und Chorusmitglied der documenta 14, lebt in Kassel

Den Künstler und Kurator James Washington-Simbouras lernte ich über einen Facebook-Kommentar kennen, den ich über die documenta 14 machte. Es entwickelte sich ein interessanter Dialog über die Ausstellung in Athen, aber auch über die gesellschaftliche Rolle von Kunst. James ist der Gründer von Contemporary Art Showcase Athens (C.A.S.A.) und wohnt im Bezirk Exarchia, bekannt durch die heftigen Krawalle, besetzte Häuser und anarchistische Haltung, aber auch durch seine sozial orientierte Szene. Diese zeichnet sich unter anderem durch ihre aktive Unterstützung von Flüchtlingen aus. In Exarchia funktionieren nicht nur Beratungszentren, sondern auch Gemeinschaftsküchen und kostenlose medizinische Versorgung. Viele Künstler arbeiten mit ihren alten und neuen Nachbarn zusammen. Ein Beispiel ist das von C.A.S.A. initiierte Projekt To the Future Public, eine offene, diskursive und partizipatorische Plattform über Kunst im öffentlichen Raum Athens, die am 16. Mai 2017 in Athen eröffnet wurde. Wir führen unser Gespräch in der Bar Nosotros, die gleichzeitig eine alternative Kultureinrichtung ist. James spricht über die Polarisierung, welche die documenta in Athen auslöst, und wie man diese produktiv nutzen kann.

James Washington-Simbouras – Künstler und Kurator, lebt und arbeitet in Athen

documenta 14 – 8.4. - 16.7.2017 in Athen, 10.6.-17.9.2017 in Kassel

Autorin

Katerina Valdivia Bruch führte die Interviews. Sie ist freie Kuratorin, Autorin und Kunstkritikerin. Sie lebt und arbeitet in Berlin. www.artatak.net

Athen und Berlin, Mai 2017

***

English version:

documenta 14

Politics and Art: En Route in Athens

For the first time, documenta is taking place in two cities. The first part will be presented in Athens. How is the exhibition perceived by the artists and local visitors in the Greek capital? How political is the show? Why has it been criticised so vehemently? Katerina Valdivia Bruch talked to three visitors on the spot.

Public space in Athens is full of art. Apart from documenta, there are several underground stops with artworks. Already at the station “Omonia” I am struck by the work The Tail by Nikos Kessanlis. I get out in Omonia Square, which is covered by a green net. What at first glance looks like a construction site turns out to be the installation Invisible City by German artist Gregor Schneider. It is one of the works presented during the Fast Forward Festival 4, organised by the Onassis Cultural Centre. I have arranged a meeting with the artist Giorgios Sachinis of the initiative UrbanDig Project. He is rehearsing with his colleagues for a performance that will take place here at Omonia Square during the Athens & Epidaurus Festival. In order to have a quiet talk, we go to Café Veneti. While he explains me, that in order to really learn from Athens he would have liked that documenta has had more cooperations with the Athens’ art scene, the artist Aemilia Papaphilippou joins us. She regards the restriction of art implied in the concept of documenta with a critical eye.

Aemilia Papaphilippou: artist, lives and works in Athens

The EMST (National Museum for Contemporary Art, Athens) was reopened in October 2016. The former brewery is one of the main venues of documenta 14. I am on the top floor, with a view of the Acropolis. Here I meet a group of people of different nationalities who have just taken one of documenta’s Walks and are discussing the exhibition and its political message with intensity. One of them talks about the influence of Asia and Africa on Greek antiquity and Europe. He is the Kassel-based artist Zaki Al-Maboren. Zaki works for the documenta 14 Chorus and is in Athens to get to know artists and their works, in order to prepare his own work for Kassel.

Zaki Al-Maboren: artist and Chorus member of documenta 14, lives in Kassel

Translation of Zaki Al-Maboren’s audio statement:

“Actually, documenta belongs to Kassel. You can have a big exhibition here in Athens. You can also call it Acropolina or something like that. That’s fine. I’m not against it. But, for me documenta is a Kassel exhibition, because it has to do with German history and with Kassel as a city, as a garrison city. Kassel was so remote, back then during the Cold War. It absolutely needed a connection to the world. And, when Arnold Bode invented or launched the documenta, part of his intention was to fetch Kassel out of the darkest corners of Germany. Which he succeeded in doing in the end. But, I don’t think it’s so good that this exhibition is now somehow scattered over the world, particularly in Athens, because the topic of the exhibition is “South as a State of Mind” and Athens isn’t “South” at all. It’s not South; perhaps it’s Southern Europe – which the Greeks themselves don’t believe – but the South, I think, lies a bit further on. I would have liked to see an exhibition about the Mediterranean perhaps, or maybe in Africa, in a “no-go city” like Mogadishu or Kinshasa, or anywhere where you feel how the world really ticks. This here is a pretext. Athens is a safe city, a completely normal city like any other.”

I got to know the artist and curator James Washington-Simbouras through a Facebook comment I made about documenta 14. After this, we started an interesting dialogue about the exhibition in Athens, but also about the social role of art. James is the founder of Contemporary Art Showcase Athens (C.A.S.A.) and lives in the Exarchia district of Athens, known because of its violent riots, squatter houses and anarchist attitude, but also for its socially engaged scene. This is characterised by, among other things, the district’s active support for refugees. In Exarchia there are not only counselling centres, but also community kitchens and free medical care. One example is the project To the Future Public, an open, discursive and participatory platform on art in public space in Athens, initiated by C.A.S.A. and opened on 16 May 2017 in Athens. James and I have a conversation in the bar Nosotros, which also functions as an alternative cultural space. He talks about the polarisation that documenta has triggered in the city, and how this might be used in a productive way.

James Washington-Simbouras: artist and curator, lives and works in Athens

Audio James Washington-Simbouras >>

Translation: Jonathan Uhlaner

Edited by Katerina Valdivia Bruch

documenta 14 – 8.4. - 16.7.2017 in Athens, 10.6.-17.9.2017 in Kassel

Author

Marius Babias – Im Dienste der Öffentlichkeit

Marius Babias, Leiter des Neuen Berliner Kunstvereins (n.b.k.), spricht über Medienkunst und ihre wichtigsten Berliner Vertreter, die gesellschaftliche Rolle von öffentlichen Kunstinstitutionen und über die Bedeutung von Transkulturalität in der Kunst.

Ein Artikel von Katerina Valdivia Bruch für Goethe.de

Herr Babias, was zeichnet Medienkunst heutzutage aus? Medienkunst ist eine Frage der Definition. Anfang der 1990er-Jahre gab es eine ganze Reihe von Philosophen und Semiotikern, die behauptet haben, die Medienkunst würde die klassische Kunst verdrängen und die Sinnlosigkeit von Malerei, Bildhauerei und anderen Medien vorführen. Denn nur die Medienkunst und die digitalen Künste entsprächen dem neuen Zeitalter der Computer. Wenn wir zurückschauen, ist nichts davon eingetroffen und Jean Baudrillard oder Vilém Flusser haben sich mit ihren vorauseilenden Hypothesen ein bisschen lächerlich gemacht. Richtig war, dass die ganze Gesellschaft eine digitale Wende genommen hat. Dennoch sind die alten Künste mit ihrem alten stofflichen Denken und Problemen erhalten geblieben. Sie wurden nicht durch den Computer, durch das Digitale aufgelöst. Deshalb vermeide ich eigentlich den Begriff Medienkunst soweit als möglich, weil er suggeriert, dass es keine stoffliche Welt mit realen Problemen gibt.

Was bedeutet der Begriff „Transkulturalität“ in der Kunst? In einer Zeit, in der die kulturelle Landschaft Europas neu vermessen und entworfen wird, sollte die Bildende Kunst mitdefinieren, wie eine gesamteuropäische Identität im globalen Kontext zukünftig aussehen könnte. Warum sollte es nicht Aufgabe der Kunst sein, zu definieren, was es bedeutet Europäer zu sein? Das meinte ich mit Transkulturalität. Mittlerweile sind ja wieder zwanzig Jahre vergangen. Heute haben wir eine andere Problemlage: die Flüchtlingsdebatte. Und wieder könnte eine Aufgabe der Kunst sein, an vorderer Stelle mitzudefinieren, was ein Leben in der Migration, in der postmigrantischen Gesellschaft bedeutet. Man sollte das Entwurfsrecht nicht alleine der Politik und vor allem nicht dem Populismus überlassen. Wie würden Sie die aktuelle Szene der Medienkunst in Berlin beschreiben und wer sind ihre wichtigsten Vertreter? Vielleicht sollten wir weniger von Medienkunst oder Videokunst sprechen, sondern mit dem Begriff Bewegtbild arbeiten, der die Vielfalt integriert, die sich auf diesem Gebiet in Berlin zeigt. Zu nennen sind natürlich die Bildungsstätten, wie die Universität der Künste, die über einen entsprechenden Studiengang verfügt. Aber auch das Arsenal, mit dem wir viel zusammenarbeiten, und das silent green Kulturquartier, das eine Ausstellungshalle baut, in der das Bewegtbild im Vordergrund steht. Und natürlich wir, der n.b.k. Wir verfügen über die europaweit größte Videokunstsammlung, in der aber auch Filmemacher vertreten sind. Es handelt sich nicht um ein Archiv, sondern um eine Kunstsammlung, die über fünfzig Jahre gewachsen ist. Mit unseren 1.600 Arbeiten sind wir inzwischen größer als das Archiv des Centre Pompidou und größer als jede Privatsammlung weltweit. Wir sammeln im öffentlichen Auftrag des Landes Berlin und machen die Sammlung produktiv öffentlich. Wir haben ein Videoforum und eine Präsenzvideothek, in der Besucher nach Anmeldung vorbeikommen und sich diese tollen Arbeiten anschauen können. Es finden Seminare statt und viele Kuratoren aus aller Welt recherchieren bei uns. Das ist unsere Bildungsarbeit.

Gibt es auch Kooperationen mit privaten lokalen Videokunst-Initiativen?   Nein, konkret nicht. Wir haben nicht die Aufgabe, mit privaten Sammlern zusammenzuarbeiten, aber man kennt und schätzt sich. Unsere Aufgabe ist es, der Demokratie und der Öffentlichkeit zu dienen. Unsere Vorstellung ist, dass das Leben eine Form permanenter Produktion ist. Bildungsinstitutionen sollten Übersetzungsformeln für diesen Prozess der affektiven Arbeit finden, und als sinnfällige Angebote zu Teilhabe der Öffentlichkeit modellhaft zur Verfügung stellen. Denn letztlich prägen Bildungsinstitutionen das kulturelle Selbstbild, das die Gesellschaft von sich hat – und somit stärken sie auch die Demokratie, in deren Auftrag sie agieren. Wir müssen auf gesellschaftliche Relevanz achten und ästhetische Werte hervorbringen. Wir dürfen uns nicht an privaten Interessen ausliefern. Im Gegenteil: Wir müssen zweckfrei, nicht im Sinne einer partikulären Gruppe, sondern im Dienste der Öffentlichkeit agieren. Das ist unser Credo. In Berlin leben international anerkannte Künstler, wie Hito Steyerl, Candice Breitz, Carsten Nicolai oder Julian Rosefeldt. Braucht Berlin einen Ort für die Präsentation von Medienkunst und die Auseinandersetzung über sie – so wie das ZKM in Karlsruhe oder das Ars Electronica Center in Linz? Mit einigen der genannten Künstler haben wir auch zusammengearbeitet. Wir geben jedes Jahr ein neues Werk in Auftrag. Es wurden Arbeiten von Künstlern und Künstlerinnen, wie Allan Kaprow oder Rebecca Horn in Auftrag gegeben und von Hito Steyerl, oder anderen, die heute einen großen Namen haben. Aus meiner Sicht braucht Berlin kein Haus wie das ZKM Karlsruhe oder das Ars Electronica Center. Für mich hängen diese viel zu sehr am eingeführten Medienbegriff, und sie bringen zu wenig das instrumentelle Verständnis von Medienkunst – für das ich werbe – mit. Ein instrumentelles Verständnis, das nicht vergisst, dass es auch eine stoffliche Welt gibt. In diesem Sinn reicht eigentlich unsere Arbeit im Video-Forum. Nur sind wir räumlich sehr beengt. Darüber sind wir mit der Berliner Politik im Gespräch. Ich bin optimistisch, dass das Videoforum erweitert wird und wir diesen Schatz permanent der Öffentlichkeit präsentieren können. Wir haben beispielsweise eine Dependance im Nordstern Videokunstzentrum in Gelsenkirchen, wo wir auf sechs Etagen thematische Ausstellungen einrichten. So ähnlich könnte ich mir die Präsentation von Bewegtbild auch für die Stadt Berlin vorstellen.

Biografie

Marius Babias lebt als Kurator und Kunsttheoretiker in Berlin. Seit 2008 ist er Leiter des Neuen Berliner Kunstvereins (n.b.k.). Von 1997 bis 2001 hatte Babias Gastprofessuren für Kunsttheorie und -vermittlung an der Städelschule Frankfurt am Main und am Center for Contemporary Art Kitakyushu, Japan, inne. 1996 erhielt Babias den Carl Einstein Preis für Kunstkritik. Er ist Herausgeber zahlreicher Publikationen zur Gegenwartskunst und zur Kunsttheorie, sowie Autor verschiedener Bücher.  

Autorin

Katerina Valdivia Bruch ist freie Kuratorin, Autorin und Kunstkritikerin. Sie lebt und arbeitet in Berlin.

Links zum Thema

n.b.k. (Neuer Berliner Kunstverein)

UdK Berlin: Courses Art and Media

silent greeen Kulturquartier

ZKM | Museum für Neue Kunst

Ars Electronica Center

Bildnachweise:

1. Halil Altındere, Space Refugee (2016) | Journey to Mars; Palmyra Mars Mission Rover | Ausstellungsansicht n.b.k.  | © Neuer Berliner Kunstverein/Jens Ziehe. Courtesy Halil Altındere und PİLOT Gallery, Istanbul

2. Hito Steyerl, After the Crash (2009 | Do You Speak Spasmoc? (2008) | Ausstellungsansicht Neuer Berliner Kunstverein, 2009 | © Neuer Berliner Kunstverein/Jens Ziehe.

3. Porträt: Marius Babias | Foto: Jens Ziehe

Women dancers in India and UK at a glance

An article by Katerina Valdivia Bruch for Culture360.asef.org

Katerina Valdivia Bruch was in India as a bangaloREsident at Natya & STEM Dance Kampni. During her stay in Bangalore, she was able to attend the BENCH India, a conference on gender inequalities in the performing arts, held on 7 February 2017 at Alliance Française de Bangalore, as part of the Attakalari India Biennial. What follows is a short survey on the current situation of women dancers in India and UK, the challenges they face in their practice and the projects and/or initiatives they are involved in.

Tamsin Fitzgerald

How did you start with The BENCH? What moved you to create this initiative?

The BENCH as an idea started in 2013. There were rumblings in the UK dance sector around the absence of female voices on both the stage and in leadership and the negative outcome of this for both audiences and young artists. I decided that I would try to change things for the better. In 2015 The BENCH was launched in the UK. We work with artists, venues and the wider sector to encourage change.

The BENCH INDIA launched in 2016 after discussions with Indian artists and organisations. So far it has been an incredible journey, shifting perspectives and historical ways of working is always going to be a challenge, but that’s what makes it unique and why it’s needed.

Biography

Tamsin Fitzgerald founded 2Faced Dance Company in 1999 and has choreographed several major works for the company, which have all toured across the UK and internationally. In 2009, she received the Rayne Fellowship for Choreography and worked with Australian Dance Theatre and The Ballet Boyz. In 2013, she was awarded the prestigious Jerwood Choreographic Research Prize.

Tamsin is also founder of The BENCH, a bespoke programme for female choreographers. Created in 2015 as a direct response to the gender crisis within the contemporary dance industry, the The BENCH aims to challenge the sector and give mid-career artists a voice and platform for their work. In 2016 The BENCH INDIA was launched.

2Faced Dance http://www.2faceddance.co.uk/

The BENCH INDIA http://www.the-bench.org/the-bench-india/

Photo: Tamsin Fitzgerald | © Luke Evans

Madhu Nataraj

How is it to run your own dance school and company at the same time?

We have a training centre, a performing unit and an outreach & archiving cell, that nurture and support each another. In 1995, when I birthed STEM Dance Kampni – Bangalore’s first Indian contemporary dance company –, I had to literally ‘create’ dancers. The classical trained dancers were initially hesitant to try out this ‘strange’ movement. So, simultaneous to choreographing new works, there was a strong training to make sure we had dancers ready to perform.

Today, I also head Natya Institute of Kathak & Choreography, one of India’s first dance institutes initiated in 1964 by Dr. Maya Rao. From training, curating, marketing, choreographing, to administrative realities I have balanced it all from the very beginning. I honestly don’t know other way of functioning!

Can you tell us about some challenges and achievements in the past years?

I think our most important strength is sustainability. Everyone wants to pioneer a new movement, but what about sustaining it? That’s a constant challenge. The very fact that we have managed to sustain a 53 year old institution and a 22 year old new age performing unit through recessions, lack of funding, being ostracised, attrition and the like is an achievement.

Biography

Madhu Nataraj is a dancer and choreographer, and director of Natya Institute of Kathak & Choreography (NIKC) and STEM Dance Kampni. A performer, choreographer, graduated in commerce and journalism, Madhu was trained in the classical form of Kathak by her mother Dr. Maya Rao, as well as Chitra Venugopal. Apart from learning contemporary dance in New York, she has also been trained in Indian martial arts, folk dances and yoga.

Madhu was chosen as one among India’s 50 Young Achievers by ‘India Today’, as well as received the ‘Bismillah Khan Yuva Puraskar’ from the Central Sangeet Natak Academi and the Mohan Khokar Award for excellence in dance. Madhu is also a panelist at important design, cultural and academic institutions and is often invited to perform, design and choreograph productions for a number of local and international cultural institutions.

Natya Institute of Kathak & Choreography www.natyamaya.in

STEM Dance Kampni www.stemdancekampni.in

Photo: Madhu Nataraj | © Ramy Reddy

Ranjana Dave

How is Dance Dialogues supporting performing arts?

During The BENCH conference, I referred to the fact that in India it is not about a lack of opportunities for women only, but a lack of opportunities in general. As part of Dance Dialogues, our concerns are about accessing the few opportunities available and creating new avenues.

Dance Dialogues was formed in response to a scattered dance ecology in Mumbai, where artists were unable to connect with each other, find moments to critically engage about their practice and gain new skills. Through a regular monthly programme of workshops, screenings, talks and community discussions, we generate conversations, connect artists to each other and establish peer support networks. During our five years of operation, the Mumbai dance scene has changed. Some dancers have benefited from our programmes, and new initiatives have emerged, bringing the dance community closer.

Do you have any project that supports women dancers? If yes, can you name some examples?

Our activities are not targeted to any gender, because a gender bias in availing of opportunities was not the big concern we were tackling. As I mentioned before, the concern was the lack of opportunities. But, I can say that we have worked largely with female artists in all our projects. Apart from this, our organisation is completely run by female artists since its inception in 2011. That, I believe, filters also whatever we do.

Biography

Ranjana Dave is a dancer and writer based in Delhi. She works with Gati Dance Forum as Director of Programmes and contributes to their curatorial and educational initiatives. She is the co-founder of Dance Dialogues, an initiative that works with dance makers and dance lovers, helping them to connect with provocative and diverse ideas, individuals and institutions.

Dance Dialogues http://dancedialogues.org/

Gati Dance Forum http://gatidance.com/

Photo: Ranjana Dave | © Akshiti Roychowdhury

Seeta Patel

As an independent dancer living in London, who dances Bharatanatyam and contemporary dance, could you tell us more about your work, both in UK and India?

I have been lucky to have worked with many talented artists from a variety of disciplines and I am privileged to be in a country that has government funded arts, which has allowed me to have been able to create and be a part of much great work over the years. Since becoming a full time professional artist in 2003 I have grown my experience by being involved in a number of different projects, which includes theatre and film, as well as teaching, that helps me keep my Bharatanatyam work fresh by having a wider experience alongside my classical training practice. Connecting with my teachers in Chennai is also a vital part of my practice as a grounding experience by which I continue to develop my growth as a classical artist.

I have also produced a short film that takes a humorous look at how identity can so easily become a fickle commodity in the dance world. I am fascinated by the perceptions people in the UK have of Bharatanatyam, how it is spoken about, the tokenism of culture, how within the South Asian sector the idea of the exotic is promoted, and am constantly trying to challenge how people perceive me as a Classical Bharatanatyam dancer born and raised in the UK. My current challenge is to try and keep my focus on my work, without succumbing to external pressures and perceptions that narrow the scope of who and what I can be.

Biography Born in London, Seeta Patel began training under the guidance of Kiran Ratna in 1990 and has since worked with a range of Bharatanatyam and contemporary dance professionals. She furthered her studies in Bharatanatyam under the guidance of Mavin Khoo, Padma Shri Adyar K Lakshman, Meena Raman and Pushkala Gopal.

She has also worked with Professor C.V. Chandrashekar and Liz Lea. Seeta has toured with DV8 Physical Theatre, Shobana Jeyasingh Dance Company, David Hughes Dance Company and Mavin Khoo Dance, amongst others. Over the past 12 years, she has received numerous awards and bursaries for her creative and professional development. Dance UK has chosen Seeta to be a part of the 2015 Mentoring Programme as a future leader within the arts.

Seeta Patel – Homepage www.seetapatel.co.uk

Photo: Seeta Patel | © Stephen Berkeley-White

Author Katerina Valdivia Bruch is a Berlin-based independent arts writer, curator, dancer and choreographer, who researches on dance and other fields of art. As a dancer and choreographer, she regularly collaborates with different artists, such as experimental musicians and visual artists, focussing on interdisciplinary work. Her dance projects have taken her to different countries, where she has developed her practice as a choreographer and dancer, but also as a teacher. She has performed, created choreographies, given lessons and workshops in Germany, India, Brazil, Indonesia, Mexico, Croatia, Serbia, Poland, Spain and Peru. www.artatak.net