What are you currently working on—and what do you find particularly stimulating or challenging about it?
Right now we’re preparing Jordan Strafer’s solo exhibition, which opens at Fluentum on 10 SEP 2025. The show will feature some of her existing works, but we’re also producing a new piece—filmed live during the opening! For this, the exhibition space is being transformed into a surreal 1990s-style talk-show set, with New York actor Jim Fletcher performing live in front of the audience. I’m really excited about the evening, but the live filming also poses a challenge, since so many unpredictable things can happen.
Do you have a daily ritual that gives you structure or inspiration?
Besides my U-Bahn journeys, it’s mostly shared meals. Usually my partner gets up a little earlier to have breakfast with me, and at Fluentum, my team and I cook and eat lunch together almost every day.
What kind of music do you listen to when you want to focus or reconnect with your creative process?
On my way to work today, I listened to ›Dots and Loops‹ by Stereolab again. But I actually focus better without music.
Has there been a book that fundamentally changed your perspective—and why would you recommend it?
It’s hard to name just one. At the end of last year, I read ›On and Off-Screen Imaginaries‹ by Tiffany Sia, and I’m still thinking about it. The book brings together six essays written in the context of the 2019—2020 Hong Kong protests, but its insights go far beyond the political conflict there. Sia explores how filmmakers develop a new documentary vocabulary in an age of surveillance and repression, and she also examines the visual worlds and political narratives of the Cold War, which continue to play out across multiple international fronts today. I’ve also long been drawn to the writings of Ronald Schernikau, especially ›Die Tage in L.‹ from 1988 and his posthumously published essay collection ›Die Königin im Dreck‹. Schernikau experienced both West Germany and East Germany and wrote about the contradictions of both states with sharp insight and a witty, gay humour. He also produced brilliant reportage and essays on topics such as HIV/AIDS, GDR pop music, and Andy Warhol. I very much hope that his books will one day be translated into English.
Is there a work of art you would love to have in your home
Many of my favourite works of art aren’t really suitable for a home, but I would love the painting ›Radieuse‹ by Jana Euler, which shows two camels in front of the Cité Radieuse in Marseille. Alternatively, a small sculpture by Olga Balema, Phung-Tien Phan, or Henrik Olesen would be wonderful.
Which exhibition venue in Berlin inspires you?
Since returning to Berlin in December, I’ve especially rediscovered the exhibition spaces in the western part of the city. I really enjoy the Haus am Waldsee, as well as the Georg Kolbe Museum and the Brücke Museum.
I also always look forward to exhibitions in Berlin’s project spaces like The Wig, Scheusal, and Scherben. The space ›After‹ on Köpenicker Straße presents sound works and experimental music for about six months of the year, and the series ›Videoart at Midnight‹, curated by Olaf Stüber at Babylon Kino in Mitte, also has a fantastic programme.
Is there an object that accompanies you and reflects a part of your identity?
I hope not.
What keeps you going, even in moments of doubt?
Most of the time, it’s enough to switch off social media and talk to people who really know me.
Which personality would you like to have a conversation with—and what would you talk about?
I would really love to have had a conversation with René Pollesch about his plays.