The last first photograph of this series was showcased by Antipode Gallery as part of the Black Gaze Matters group show supporting Black artists and anti-racism charities:
The image portrays the historic Reichstag building, seat of the German Bundestag, adopting a perspective slightly divergent from Ai Wei Wei’s original, serving as a pointed critique aimed at the German government, particularly the Deutscher Bundestag. This criticism stems from their neo-liberal, racist, and neo-colonial international policies.
The visual commentary extends to the political landscape, highlighting the ascension of fascism, notably the Alternative for Germany (AfD), the country’s most successful far-right party since the Nazi era. It also addresses the persistent deportations of asylum-seekers and migrants. Furthermore, it delves into Germany’s contemporary affirmation of colonial power in Namibia:
In 2021, the German and Namibian governments inked an agreement intended to formally acknowledge Germany’s culpability in the Herero and Namaqua Genocide. This atrocity witnessed the massacre of approximately 50,000 – 65,000 Herero (75 percent of the Herero population) and 10,000 Nama between 1904 and 1907 by German military forces.
Crucially, the financial offering from the German government replaces a preexisting aid package. Germany committed to disbursing €1.1 billion over 30 years for the genocide, equating to the value of about 14€ per human life lost. Notably, this agreement lacks legal precedent and offers no provision for land restitution.
The image captures the under-construction Humboldt Forum in Berlin, with its almost completely reconstructed cupola including a lantern and gilded cross, against cranes and scaffolding. It stands as a new landmark at the historical Schlossplatz.
The architecture mirrors Germany’s colonial structures, reflecting the institution’s role in the colonization of Africa during Chancellor Otto von Bismarck’s era. The image hints at the legacy carried by the institution. It symbolizes ongoing transformations of a space historically tied to imperialist power. The visual juxtaposition prompts reflection on power dynamics in cultural institutions, and navigating complex historical legacies in the globalized context.
The Humboldt Forum becomes a symbol of the nation grappling with its imperialist history, raising questions about cultural identity and narratives shaping Germany’s future. This also encapsulates debates about the museum’s collections, including stolen artifacts, and the institution’s defensiveness against critical voices seeking acknowledgment and repatriation. This mirrors the broader discourse on the restitution of cultural heritage and museums’ ethical responsibilities in the post-colonial era. It conveys Germany’s struggle to confront its colonial past, contrasting with the more memorialized National Socialist atrocities.
The institution claims to be a place for culture and science, for exchange and debate. Yet it is keen to remove any critical voices.
This image not only captures the annual gathering point for the Black Lives Matter Protest in Berlin at Mohrensraße. The street name itself, “Mohrenstraße,” becomes a focal point of contention, maintaining a connection to Germany’s colonial history.
The image portrays the street’s name at the entrance to the underground station, raising questions about the refusal to rename it despite its racist connotations, prompting reflection on the ongoing struggle to confront and redefine the narratives embedded in public spaces. As a Black person using public transport and passing through this part of the city means being confronted with the normalization of a derogatory racist term sometimes on a daily basis, on your way to work or school.
Mohrenstraße, translated as “Negros street,” serves as a stark reminder of the glorification of German colonial history. The controversy surrounding the name stems from its association with the term “Mohr,” echoing historical racial and derogatory implications.
Some voices refuse it’s racist connotation, claiming that the term is nothing more that a translation for the “Moors”, an exonym first used by Christian Europeans to designate the Muslim populations of the Maghreb, al-Andalus (Iberian Peninsula), Sicily and Malta during the Middle Ages. Those voices also tend to forget that the word contains the Greek “moros”, which means foolish, simple-minded, stupid, but also godless, and the Latin “maurus”, which stands for black, dark or African (1).
With that beeing said, the street name “Mohrenstraße” in Berlin is not linked to the Black Muslims who rules over a territory in the European south from 711 to 1609. This place marks the intersection of historical narratives, emphasizing that Mohrenstraße’s origin in 1706 coincided with King Frederick I of Prussia claimed control of the colonial fortress Princes Town / Pokesu (Groß-Friedrichsburg) in what is now Ghana.
Their base was established on the West African coast by the naval forces of his father, Elector Frederick William of Brandenburg, in 1683. This enabled the “Brandenburg-African Company” to participate in the enslavement trade of the European powers for a good 15 years. More than 20,000 West African children, women and men were abducted and sold into American plantation slavery (2).
The Kusthause Tacheles was an art and event center on Oranienburger Straße in Berlin’s Mitte district. Between 1990 and 2012, it used a part of a former department store that had been saved from demolition. The idiom “Tacheles reden” (from Hebrew tachlit (תכלית) ‘goal’, ‘purpose’; Yiddish term for ‘plain speaking’) means: to tell the blunt truth directly; to speak one’s mind bluntly without holding back; to speak plainly; to address a sensitive topic; to speak openly and clearly (e.g. “Now speak your mind!”). (1).
Like many buildings that stood empty in the eastern part of the city after the fall of the Wall, this one was also occupied by artists. The artists’ initiative Tacheles, which occupied the building in 1990, gave itself this name because of the problems associated with freedom of expression in GDR times. Many messages in music, film and art had to be hidden ambiguously. Breaking through this ambiguity in art was one of the aims of the artists’ group. Over time, the name of the group was transferred to the building itself (2).
I remember this place for it’s garden and studio spaces. Usually the doors where left open so one could enter the bulilding and walk throught it’s hallways seein people linving, creating, sleeping in their rooms. There was a bar at the ground level. Sometimes friend’s of mine were performing there, sometime I met artist from another part of the world. One time we organized a festival presenting women* in Hip Hop and one of the upper levels became a hub for graffity, b-girlz and MCs. The walls of that building were full of art, powerful unique pieces like the one that is still visible on this picture.
On December 8, 2011, around 30 employees of a security company forced their way into the premises on the 5th floor. The Belarusian artist Alexander Rodin was evicted from the premises, but was unable to take any of his personal belongings or his 15 large-format paintings. Lawyer Michael Schulz, who carried out the eviction on behalf of an unknown client, stated that the eviction of the 5th floor was lawful as no owner could be identified (3).
On March 22, 2012, the Tacheles was closed to visitors following an attempted eviction. But the Berlin Regional Court declared the eviction of the Tacheles cultural center unlawful. (4) The court issued a temporary injunction to the forced administrator to immediately return the Tacheles rooms. This had already happened the day before.
Kunsthaus Tacheles was finally evacuated at 7 a.m. on the morning of September 4, 2012, with only a symbolic artistic protest (5). The new buildings were controversial because, according to critics, luxury real estate was being built in another former place of art. For example, a 250 m² penthouse apartment in the new building was sold for almost ten million euros (around 40,000 euros/m²) before completion. (6)
The Egyptian Museum in Berlin houses one of the world’s most significant collections of ancient Egyptian artifacts, including the iconic Nefertiti Bust (1). There are several issues associated with this institution and the symbolism it represents. These include the presence of stolen artifacts, the imposition of Western beauty standards and aesthetics on African faces, incorrect descriptions of various pieces to support a narrative of white supremacy, and the denial of Black African influence on Egypt’s achievements. For the reader who is interested in decolonial perspectives on Egyptian anthropology I’d like to recommend to dig deep into the work of Cheikh Anta Diop.
