Bipolar Apocalypse Forecast: The Future of Humanity at Kunstmuseum Bonn
We're all gonna die (perhaps). In Bonn, curator Dr. Stefanie Kreuzer (Gen X, German) brings works from two different centuries together for an outlook on where we're heading.
I don’t know how else to explain this, but … this exhibition messed with my brain. I gaslit myself into believing that I was the problem, that I was somehow just not getting it. When I saw this show for the first time, I had this weird feeling in my gut. There was something uncanny about it and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Plus, I’ve been extremely anxious that day. So I felt this odd vibe I couldn’t explain. That’s why I decided to not review it first. But I happened to see the exhibition again a few days ago. And this time, it dawned on me. I am finally able to put my unease into words.
The world is coming to an end
The German language loves making up words with no translatable counterpart. Stefanie borrowed the bulky tongue-twisting title Menschheitsdämmerung from a collection of poems published in 1919 by Kurth Pinthus (1886-1975, German). The word Dämmerung can either mean dusk or dawn, so Menschheitsdämmerung leaves it up for speculation whether this is a story about humanity’s hopeful beginning or its gloomy end.
Well, actually, the exhibition isn’t so much a linear story. Two optimistic and two pessimist rooms bear the cryptic titles Downfall and Outcry, Awakening of the Heart, Entreaty and Indignation, and Love Human Beings, which confused me more rather than prepared me for my experience. To be honest, if I walked into the show without any info, not in my wildest dreams would I be able to guess what it’s about.
Each room creates parallel strings of possible futures. Like a multiverse, if you will. Even though this is not a sci-fi show. There isn’t much futurism except for the dope 3D-glasses-requiring painting From Gondwana to Endangered, Who is the Devil Now? (2020) by Goshka Macuga (Gen X, Polish). Stefanie chose artworks from the museum’s 20th-century collection – some of which have never been shown before – and works from the last couple of years. The connection is simple: People at the beginning of the 20th century went through all sorts of crises. We now at the beginning of the 21st century are going through multiple crises at once. So far, so good.
The exhibition tries to straddle two tasks at once: Showing art created in a time of uncertainty and art about uncertainty. I feel like trying to do both is limiting the art and not benefiting it. Art created in a period of upheaval and crisis doesn’t necessarily deal with the same and art dealing with these themes can be created in peaceful times. Framing the works in such a fixed historical context forces me to search for cues of upheaval where I don’t see them. Remember I promised to not squeeze meaning out of art where I don’t see it? I feel like if I need to read a catalog to get behind the reasoning why specific artworks fit the theme and if they can’t speak for themselves in the exhibition, then why even bother making the exhibition?
Let’s go to therapy & down in history
I realized where my discomfort came from when I started digging into art history. I read this mindblowing interview with the German-American philosopher Anselm Haverkamp.1 He analyzed exhibitions of the 1950s through a psychoanalytical lens and observed a trend in the art world of Post-war Germany to obsessively define and explain what makes us human in response to the horrors of the Shoah. Anselm concluded that this fascination for humanism actually played down the consequences of this obsession with defining humans: the brutal biopolitics of German fascism (p. 50). The Nazis were keen to make a clear distinction between what fits their image of a human and what doesn’t. The 1950s unintentionally played into this thought pattern thinking they were restoring humanity. WOW, I thought. This obsession with Menschenbildnerei as Anselm calls it is not only a Nazi thing, though. My take on this show is not THAT hot, everybody take a breath.
I was reminded of another exhibition of the 1950s. Meanwhile in 1955, former military (!!!) photographer and curator Edward Steichen (1879-1973, American) organized an exhibition called The Family of Man at MoMA in New York. Bringing together photographs of people from all around the globe, Eddie attempted to prove that no matter who you are, where you are from, or what your circumstances are, you are part of one single race, the human race. Sounds democratic so far… It was supposed to unite people after World War II tore them apart. But it radically simplified the lives and realities of marginalized communities. The exhibition rejected any idea of locality, uniqueness, or specificity. It all boiled down to similar phases of life, traditions, emotions, and structures. A bit patronizing, innit?
Well, this is not exactly what Stefanie does here. She does bring in works that offer anticolonial, PoC, and queer perspectives on the future. So what exactly reminded me of The Family of Man here? Apart from the general idea of breaking down a universal human experience (focused on uncertainty in this case), one specific curatorial decision. An untitled work from 2016 by Francis Alÿs (Gen X, Belgian) takes up an entire wall. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors with text snippets and tilted canvases showing climate catastrophes on one side and an idyllic future paradise on the other invite visitors to move around and inspect the inside of the tilted canvases. Obviously, you’re supposed to see yourself in the mirror, too. Edward, too, initially used mirrors in The Family of Man to highlight his point: The visitors are part of this huge family of humanity like the people in the photographs. He later decided to put the mirror away though. Using a work that has a similar effect is quite an odd coincidence. I am confident that Stefanie knows that exhibition as it was the most visited one in the history of art exhibitions until to date.
Another thing: the labels. Some curators prefer keeping them close to the works (in which case I am eternally grateful), while others completely abandon them for the sake of concentrating purely on the art. Both approaches have their ups and downsides. Stefanie pushed all the labels aside to enhance the visual and thematic similarities instead of contextual specificities. In that sense, we are again closer to that The Family of Man approach.
It’s giving… retro…
It’s interesting to see a show in 2023/24 that is so focused solely on the future of humans while other shows have already moved on to a Queer*Ecology approach: Instead of holding on to anthropocentrism and humans as the center of the world, art shows are increasingly exploring the role of humans within diverse and complex non-hierarchical networks of our ecosystem and sometimes even beyond. In other words: Not everything needs to revolve around us. It feels like this show is a bit behind in the conversation….
The room that inspired me the most was the one created with visitors. There, people are invited to stamp their own future manifestos and make it part of the exhibition. I was astonished by the creativity and depth of some self-made texts. Whoever wrote the bar We have to look reality in the eye to avoid going blind in the future: Shakespeare just called, he wants to collab.
You can speculate on the future at Menschheitsdämmerung: Kunst in Umbruchzeiten until February 18, 2024, at Kunstmuseum Bonn.
Kunstmuseum Bonn
Museumsmeile
Helmut-Kohl-Allee 2
53113 Bonn
What do you think of this one? Ngl, I was nervous about posting this one. But I said what I said. If you’re down, I’d appreciate you sharing this post with a friend, liking or commenting.
See you soon!!!
Jennifer
The Gen Z Art Critic
Latenzzeit. Die Leere der Fünfziger Jahre. Ein Inverview mit Anselm Haverkamp, von Juliane Rebentisch und Susanne Leeb. In: Texte zur Kunst, 2003, 12(50), pp. 44-53, here especially p. 50.