Artists in exile: Between loss and hope

Countless artists around the world have been forced to flee their homeland to escape war, violence or political persecution. Often, their artistic work itself is the reason for their exile. The exhibition “Once We Were Trees, Now We Are Birds” at the ifa Gallery in Berlin showcases works by around 50 artists who have found refuge in Germany with the help of the Martin Roth Initiative.

By Katrin Figge
 

A woman in traditional dress stands on a street in the middle of an Indian city. She is about to jump, holding a lance in her right hand. Her face, however, remains covered because she is wearing a cow mask. This photograph is part of the series “The Cow Mask Project” by Indian artist and political activist Sujatro Ghosh, whose pictures pose the provocative question of whether women in India are worth less than cows. According to the artist, cows are sacred in Hindu India and therefore enjoy special protection. Women who are victims of violence, on the other hand, often wait in vain for justice.
Sujatro Ghosh’s impressive photograph is one of around 50 works from various disciplines currently on display at the ifa Gallery Berlin as part of “Once We Were Trees, Now We Are Birds.” Curated by Muhammad Salah Abdulaziz, Emrah Gökdemir, Anna Karpenko and Thibaut de Ruyter, the exhibition for the first time provides a deeper insight into the lives and work of the artists supported by the Martin Roth Initiative.

Displacement and new beginnings

The Martin Roth Initiative, a joint project of the Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen (ifa) and the Goethe-Institut, was founded in 2017 in response to the global decline in pre-political freedoms. It protects artists and cultural workers who are no longer safe in their home countries and enables them to continue their work through temporary protection stays.

In one of the first conversations about the exhibition, a bird was mentioned as a metaphor, says co-curator Emrah Gökdemir, himself a former Martin Roth Initiative scholarship holder – which immediately reminded him of a proverb from his home town in south-eastern Turkey.

“We believe that the pigeons are singing: Oh my neighbor, oh Oleaster, once we were trees, now we are birds,” says Emrah Gökdemir. “In my home country, they actually mean reincarnation. Nevertheless, I think the proverb is a good fit for this exhibition, because it also talks about longing and displacement, uprooting and new beginnings in a foreign environment.”

Art in words and pictures

The photo “A Stone From a Distant Land” by Turkish artist Zeynep Güzel was taken from an airplane. Through the clouds, one can glimpse a sea of lights of an unnamed city. She has written a poetic text that describes her feelings when she took this picture: a text that expresses uncertainty, despair and a certain powerlessness. “I am a stone from a distant land/ Between being and nothingness/ A whole new species/ Fugitive/ Like a ghost/ Afraid to leave traces/ Perhaps a little idle/ Or soaked by the rain/ Whereupon it caught a cold/ And never recovered.”

„Im Grunde spielt es keine Rolle, welcher Ort auf dem Foto zu sehen ist“, erklärt sie. „Es steht sinnbildlich dafür, dass man unterwegs ist, einen Platz zum Leben sucht. Vielleicht man findet man nicht genau das, was man braucht, aber gleichzeitig sagt der Ort, an dem man landet, viel über das neue Dasein der Person aus, die dort Zuflucht findet.“

“Basically, it doesn't matter which place is shown in the photo,” she explains. ”It symbolizes that you are on the move, looking for a place to live. You might not find exactly what you need, but at the same time, the place where you end up says a lot about the new existence of the person who finds refuge there.”
Viele Plakate entfalten ihre volle Wirkung erst, wenn man sich die Zeit nimmt, Wort und Bild gleich viel Aufmerksamkeit zu schenken. Betrachtet man das Foto von Salih Gürkan Cakar, so sieht man auf den ersten Blick einen jungen Mann, der am Meer sitzt und den sonnigen Tag genießt. Im Hintergrund ist eine Insel zu erkennen. Erst der Text zum Bild offenbart, dass es sich um einen Migranten handelt, der zu Fuß aus Afghanistan in die Türkei fliehen konnte. Er befindet sich am westlichsten Punkt der türkischen Mittelmeerküste, die Insel am Horizont gehört zu Griechenland und ist für den jungen Mann unerreichbar. Der eben noch so schön anmutende Nachmittag entwickelt plötzlich eine andere Dimension und ruft beklemmende Gefühle hervor.

Kunst zum Mitnehmen

“I still keep the key to my house in my pocket”, one of the participating artists is quoted as saying. This simple, short sentence contains so much that the works in this exhibition and the artists represent: pain, loss and isolation. Yet it also contains a sense of confidence and hope – as well as strength and resilience.  

There are pragmatic reasons for presenting the exhibition as a series of posters: This way, as many artists and countries of origin as possible could be represented; in addition, many originals were no longer available because they had to be left behind in the artists’ old home countries. Secondly, posters have a long history as a medium for artistic activism and social criticism.

Therefore, the exhibition posters are placed on shelves in a separate room so that visitors can take them home. “That's also part of this political moment,” says Thibaut de Ruyter. “The exhibition exists in the here and now, but I hope that in a few years' time I might enter the home of a friend or a new acquaintance and discover one of these posters on the wall. That way, the story will continue.”