29/11/2024 - 15/02/2025

Swaying the Current
Alpin Arda Bağcık, Aziza Kadyri, İz Öztat, Sandra del Pilar, Neriman Polat, Sim Chi Yin, Cengiz Tekin
Curated by Ece Ateş, Lotte Laub, Lusin Reinsch

Opening: 28 November, 6 – 8:30 p.m.
29 November 2024–15 February 2025

Zilberman | Berlin
Schlüterstr. 45, 10707 Berlin, Take stairs to 1st Floor

The exhibition Swaying the Current brings together works by Alpin Arda Bağcık, Aziza Kadyri, İz Öztat, Sandra del Pilar, Neriman Polat, Sim Chi Yin and Cengiz Tekin – artists who go in quest of the history surrounding their origins, whether by reconstructing it on the basis of surviving diaries, photographs, textiles, and other personal objects or by imagining their unknown ancestors. In so doing, they create counter-narratives to official discourses, which always serve the interests of the powerful. The artists take various approaches, such as that of critical fabulation: They integrate speculative and fictional elements into their works, in order to delve into the thoughts and feelings of those who have been sidelined in historical memory. The title Swaying the Current refers to the subtle power one may exert to nudge the course in a different direction, gently but deliberately.

Sim Chi Yin tells the story of Loo Ngan Yue, her grandmother, who was made a widow by Britain’s violent suppression of anti-colonial forces in Malaya – a conflict that lasted twelve years and later served as a served as a template for Western counter-insurgency campaigns both historical and contemporary. Sim’s paternal grandfather, a journalist and left-wing intellectual, was – along with many other Socialists and their sympathetisers – imprisoned by the British and deported to China, where he was then executed by the anti-Communist Nationalist army (Kuomintang). Sim juxtaposes moments of leisure with oral histories of her family's inter-generational trauma, using photographic means to create a cinematic experience. Against the background of the “Malayan Emergency” (1948–1960), Sim draws a picture of fear, loss, flashes of joy as well as familial and historical amnesia – and therewith points to the unhealed wounds of the Cold War, which deepened the cleft between different segments of the population and led to enduring conflicts, whose repercussions we continue to feel today.

In The Colorado Reminds Me of Syr-Darya, Aziza Kadyri reflects on memory, legacy, and the interwoven histories of rivers and cotton across continents. A diary entry written by her grandfather during a voyage to the USA moved her deeply: “The Colorado reminds me of Syr Darya”. This connection leads her to parallels between the centers of gold mining and cotton in the USA and the “white gold” of cotton in Uzbekistan – elements that historically shaped both regions. Kadyri’s grandfather was sent, during the Cold War in 1969, on an exchange trip from the Soviet Union to the USA, to conduct research on the efficiency of modern cotton gins – an invention which when made had not reduced, but rather increased the demand for slave labor in the USA. At the heart of her work is a pink fabric from Tashkent – a machine-embroidered Suzani, woven for the 26th Congress of the Communist Party. In her installation of suspended textiles and spoken word, Kadyri links past and present through rivers that symbolise both abundance and exploitation, beauty of nature and industrial scars. 

Sandra del Pilar examines the historical figure of Malintzin in a large-format, five-paneled screen inspired by pictorial histories. Due to her exceptional linguistic skills—she was fluent in her native language, the Nahuatl of the Aztec occupiers, Maya, and Spanish—she played a crucial role in the conquest of the Aztec Empire in the 16th century. Sandra del Pilar’s work highlights the contradictory representations and meanings that Malintzin embodies in Mexico’s history and cultural memory. While Malintzin is marginalized as a slave and mere "tongue" (interpreter) in the texts of the Spanish conquerors, del Pilar recognizes her prominent role in indigenous visual representations, such as the Florentine Codex and the Lienzo de Tlaxcala, where she is portrayed as a high-ranking diplomat and leader. In Sandra del Pilar’s interpretation, she fights for her autonomy and that of her people.

Alpin Arda Bağcık in his contribution takes an icon from the Hagia Sophia as his starting point. The famous Vestibule Mosaic from the 10th Century depicts the Mother of God as a guardian figure. It was created after the periods of Byzantine Iconoclasm in the 8th and 9th Centuries, at a time when the veneration of images was once again permitted. Maria is portrayed sitting between models of the Hagia Sophia and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, thus as patron saint of Constantinople and Jerusalem. Since its erection in the year 537 A.D., the Hagia Sophia has served for centuries, in turns, as church, mosque, and museum. Since 2020, it is once again being used as a mosque. The icon is now veiled from view by a curtain. In a fanfold leaflet painted on both sides, Bağcık uses a technique of reproduction to show the icon in a series of increasingly faded copies. On one side, the image gradually vanishes to almost nothing, while on the other its colors come back stronger and stronger. History does not run a linear course: There are repetitions, and what is once hidden may re-appear later.

İz Öztat uses a historical fanfold map, showing the course of the Danube River all the way to the Black Sea, to re-tell the story of Zişan (1894-1970), who appears to Öztat as a ghost and an alter ego: in 1915, Zişan fled the Armenian genocide from Istanbul to Berlin. A red line, like a stream of blood, meanders through the gallery and is then interrupted – like the river cut up into segments on the numerous leaves of the military map from which İz Öztat borrowed the river course. This collaborative, time-crossing exchange makes it possible to reflect on how a denied and suppressed past makes itself felt in the present. Titled Danube as Biography: Reduced and Simplified, the work, accompanied by two publications, reflects on how any narration of a life story is always constructed and how these (auto)biographical narratives then affect lives. In her work Screens, the artist connects the window of a confessional box with the architectural element of the Mashrabiya, which is a recurring motif in Orientalist representations. By questioning the screen of projection standing between the self and the other, Öztat reflects on the borders between the public and private spheres; what is made accessible to the public and what remains hidden to it.

Neriman Polat’s installation Elbise (Dress) powerfully evokes the consequences of gender-specific and state violence. In the back room of the exhibition, a flowery dress floating in the air numinously suggests the body it once cloaked. The pattern, which at first glance appears to be regular, reveals itself, upon closer inspection, to be a pattern of absences: Polat has painstakingly bleached out by hand what once were flowers. A song of mourning resonates from the dress and threads its way through the gallery rooms. Polat gives us a version of the song, originally sung by Metin and Kemal Kahraman, in a recording by Gökçe Balkan, a female vocalist. It summons up the pain and powerlessness felt in the face of violence, which is often left unspoken or suppressed. This work was created during a period of massive repression and violence in the Kurdish region, when armed interventions of the state claimed many innocent victims, and the bereaved were even prohibited from burying the dead. Polat’s Elbise recalls all those women, who were torn from life by misogynous violence. She gives a voice back to those who were speechless in the face of violence.

In his work Silence, Cengiz Tekin explores themes of refuge and resilience in the face of adversity, depicting the home as a sanctuary from external chaos. Through charcoal drawings of seemingly mundane objects – each imbued with personal history: a nail, a plastic bag, a belt, an electrical outlet, and an image of his mother tucked behind a light switch, a reminder of her protective presence and holding a fragment of family memory – Tekin conveys a sense of fragility and introspection. His focus on everyday objects evokes a sense of quietude and contemplation, reflecting a period marked by social and political unrest. The work subtly alludes to the cyclical nature of conflict and its impact on individuals and communities. Silence serves as a poignant reflection on the emotional toll of political turmoil and the resilience of the human spirit.

If we follow the meandering, fragmented red line, look at the drawings of Cengiz Tekin, let Neriman Polat’s suspended dress have its effect on us, listen to its song, then those who were not mourned, who were banished from history speak to us. The artists in this exhibition fill the void which those others left behind anew with the traces of their experience. A message of existential significance is here being conveyed: History cannot be viewed from a single perspective. Evaluating events from a point of view diametrically opposed to that of the dominant narrative is crucial; and the hope for a shifting of course in adverse times is not illusionary. Swaying the Current immerses us in the interwoven currents of memory, history and identity, acknowledging how the seemingly submerged and forgotten are inscribed in the fabric of our lives.

Translated from the German by Darrell Wilkins

The group exhibition Swaying the Current is curated by Ece Ateş, Lotte Laub, Lusin Reinsch.

An artist talk will take place on Saturday, December 7, 2024, at 5 p.m.:
Ah Ma: On family memory and trauma – Sim Chi Yin and Tash Aw in conversation

» SEE ALSO

Artist Pages
  - Alpin Arda Bağcık
  - Sim Chi Yin
  - Sandra Del Pilar
  - İz Öztat
  - Neriman Polat
  - Cengiz Tekin

Exhibition Works