Before our eyes
The act of looking is never neutral. What we choose to see, and what we avert our eyes from, says something about us. The exhibition Before Our Eyes explores how eleven (inter)national artists question and navigate this responsibility. Their work responds to the political events of our time, with particular attention to the genocidal violence in Palestine, through images that take a stand or call for reflection. For how can artists address the violence? Not by simply showing it again, but by carefully choosing what to make visible—and what to withhold.
Looking as a Subject
The first work in the exhibition—a silent film by Angharad Williams—shows a close-up of the artist’s face. Her eyes rest beside the camera; what she sees remains out of frame. Her lips move, but her words are inaudible. The film reflects on the relationship between seeing and speaking: can we speak about what we see, and do our words not fall short? Rabih Mroué also questions the role of the viewer. In his Black Boxes, he presents collages of newspaper clippings about recent wars in the Middle East, accompanied by a soundtrack. By presenting the collages behind a special lens, the work creates both distance from and proximity to the events.
Between Speaking and Silence
How can violence be made visible with respect for those affected by it? What do you reveal, and what must be withheld? In her paintings, Rosalind Nashashibi uses symbols—flowers, swans, stones—that refer to art history and to Palestinian reality. Hamishi Farah evokes the figure of the “witness” as a pillar of salt, in paintings inspired by the biblical story of Lot. The portraits by Marlene Dumas also do not show the violence in Gaza directly, but instead depict two faces looking out over the devastation. Their eyes convey quiet powerlessness.
Revealing and Concealing
For some artists, what you do not see is at least as important as what is visible. In the empty interiors of Mohammed Sami, the violence resonates precisely through what remains unseen. Luc Tuymans creates a monumental wall painting of an image that does not immediately reveal its origin or meaning. In contrast, Ryan Cullen confronts the viewer with military violence in stark, direct detail: close-ups of restraint holds reduce the violence of a state to its essence—the subjugation of the other through sheer physical force.
Traces of a Life
Filmmaking duo Sirah Foighel Brutmann and Eitan Efrat examine the history of Israel and Palestine through the eyes of Sirah’s father, the photojournalist André Brutmann. His archives interweave news footage and personal photographs, creating a layered narrative of memory and history. Marianne Berenhaut creates an image of brokenness in an assemblage of 150 mirror fragments.The same fragility resonates in Jardin d’enfants, where six broken children’s chairs stand on a tiled floor. By giving objects destined for destruction a new life, she enacts an act of resistance and remembrance.
With works by
Marianne Berenhaut, Ryan Cullen, Marlene Dumas, Hamishi Farah, Sirah Foighel Brutmann & Eitan Efrat, Rabih Mroué, Rosalind Nashashibi, Mohammed Sami, Luc Tuymans en Angharad Williams.
Curator: Tim Roerig
