Re-Examining The Role Of The Museum In Society
Letters to the past and the future
It's 1985, a year before I was born. In Belgrade, the winter has loosened its grip, though its memory lingers in the bones and in the rationing of coffee, electricity and fuel. For twenty-four consecutive, blistering winter days in December and January, the daily temperature never rose above 0 °C. It was one of the longest freezing streaks in the city's recorded history. Now the cold and the blackouts have subsided and in an office on 6 Lenin Street, warmed by little more than resolve, someone, or several someones, bend over a page, searching for words of solidarity that Yugoslav women might send to the Palestinian women due to gather in Tunis.
It's the same year, and spring lingers over Tunis as April turns to May. The air is mild and the light gentle. Inside the Hotel Amilcar, the Fourth Conference of the General Federation of Palestinian Women is in session. In attendance are “Palestinian sisters” who spent long years in the Zionist occupation's prisons, freed from captivity in late 1983. Some important men sit in the front row. A representative of the Federal Conference for the Issues of the Social Status of Women of Yugoslavia is about to deliver the greetings that travelled down the Adriatic and across the Mediterranean, a message carried by the same waters that touched different shores. She begins;
“Dear comrades,
I am very pleased to have the honour of conveying greetings to you on behalf of the Conference for the Issues of the Social Status of Women of Yugoslavia, and on behalf of all the women of Yugoslavia I thank you for the invitation you extended to the conference, and I hope that the work of your conference will be crowned with success.
[...]
The people of Yugoslavia and the women of Yugoslavia are aware of your just struggle for freedom and for the establishment of a free, independent Palestinian state, and of the difficulties you face in your popular liberation struggle. The contribution of women to your struggle is immense and an integral part of it. Without it, the goal, which is freedom, cannot be achieved.
The women of Yugoslavia, [...], led by the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, entered the field of struggle against fascism and Nazism and their collaborators during the Second World War. These days, and specifically on May 9th, Yugoslavia celebrates the victory over fascism, a victory achieved through the common struggle alongside other progressive peoples and nations, in which all the peoples and nationalities of Yugoslavia actively participated, including women on an equal footing. As we mark this anniversary, we highlight the great contribution women made to the people's liberation struggle and to the development of socialism. Since we ourselves have this experience, we sincerely affirm our support for your just struggle. We too lived through the siege of war and the fight for liberation, and at the same time, together with the other progressive forces in our society, our socio-political system declared the principles of a socialist society, in which men and women participate equally in all areas of decision-making. This is guaranteed by the constitution and laws of our socialist self-managing country.
[...]
We still encounter certain difficulties, and we must keep working for the consistent application of the constitution and the law, until the remnants of patriarchal consciousness and traditions are completely overcome, and until all the rights women gained through their contribution to the people's war, the revolution and the rebuilding of the country after the war are fully and lastingly realised. Women, the working class and all working people today take part in carrying out the tasks of completing the development of the political system of socialist self-management, accelerating material prosperity, completing the economic stabilisation program, strengthening brotherhood and unity among our nations and nationalities, and holding firm in international relations on the basis of the principles and aims of the policy of non-alignment, whose foundations were laid during President Tito's lifetime.
[...]
The Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia [...] unequivocally support the struggle of the Palestinian people and insist on Israel's withdrawal, without conditions or restrictions, from all the Arab and Palestinian territories occupied in 1967, and for the realisation of the Palestinian people's inalienable rights to self-determination, independence and sovereignty, and to the establishment of their own state on their own land. [...]
[...]
Dear comrades, I wish once more that your conference's proceedings will be crowned with success, and that you will continue to improve the situation of Palestinian women. I also express our readiness to continue cooperation between the General Federation of Palestinian Women and the Conference for the Issues of the Social Status of Women of Yugoslavia.”
It's October 2026, and the weather in London has turned. The summer was apocalyptic. The heat that pressed down on the city for weeks left the parks faded to a dusty orange I have never seen here before. Now autumn seems to be arriving, and I am relieved by its crispness. My hands are cold.
I sit to read these messages from the past once more. The pages are cream-coloured and slightly skewed in their scans. I am using modern technology to decipher them, feeding the scans into a machine that reads the Arabic lines that I cannot. I am reminded that I really should have committed to learning the language. Maybe it's not too late. I should really do it soon.
I notice that page 3 of the speech appears to be missing. The numbers run 2, then 4, and I wonder whether it’s a typo, a slip of the numbering, or whether a whole page really is gone. Was it lost, misfiled, never scanned or kept? Did it even exist?
I think about the gaps in archives, and about my desire to fill them. I think about time travel and generational disappointments, and I wonder if the women in that hall thought of this too. I scan the photograph of the meeting held at the sidelines of the conference for signs of this. Impossible to know.
Just a few short months following the conference, on 1 October 1985, in an operation they called Wooden Leg, Israeli jets bombed the PLO's headquarters outside Tunis. In Belgrade, the brotherhood and unity named in the speech has a few years left, and the stabilisation programme will give way to inflation, then to war, and the country that sent the greeting will be gone before I am old enough to remember it.
In Celtic Christian tradition, a thin place is where two realms press so closely they almost touch. As I disappear deeper into the letters and speeches, I find myself in the orbit of familiar vocabulary. Time starts to feel like a thin place too. The distance between these pages and today feels more permeable than linear chronology allows. I am caught in the arc of a returning boomerang, suspended in constellations, not timelines.
Today, a free Palestine has yet to arrive. But we promise that it will. We insist that it will.
Prompted by Munira Khayyat, I think about what tense all this belongs in. I think about October. I think about ellipses. You sit in them too. Are the three dots comfortable?
I ask myself if time is a traitor and the archive a trickster. I drift into a daydream about the women at that conference, tasting freedom after years in the occupation's prisons. I think of the letters and poems I have written for almost two years to a friend who is held in one of those prisons today. Letters I cannot send. I think about his freedom as a debt that is owed to the sky.
Outside, the Sunday light is low. The sun slants in through my windows, bringing with it an unnerving sense of calm. I realise that I have already resolved to write in the present. I pour a second cup of coffee, and turn to another letter. I begin;
Dear A,
[...]
Angelina Radaković
London, UK
By Sarah Bahgat
In the 1960s French philosopher and historian Michel Foucault introduced the notion of the examining gaze. He argued that the meticulous observation of details and political awareness of small things could potentially help us see the “truth”.
With the support of Alserkal programming, I was extremely privileged to visit Singapore for the first time to attend the CiMAM 2017 Annual Conference. I can definitely confirm that my short journey was full of examining gazes, endless observations and stimulating discourses.
Three vibrant conference days, held at National Gallery Singapore, helped me learn/unlearn Southeast Asia, from the best structures in the fields of artistic and archival practices. The conference consisted of keynote speeches, networking dinners, museums visits, and numerous exchanges of conversations/jet lags.
A distinguished group of speakers – artists, professors, curators and directors - addressed a wide range of topics pertaining to theoretical and practical institutional cases.
Censorship was a key trigger for a series of debates that pushed us, as conference delegates, to delve deeper into the evolving relation between public interest and private resources in the field of museums and civil society. It was extremely inspiring to listen to the artist Tiffany Chung (Vietnam/USA), evoking how specific projects might attract “unwanted attention”.
As the Adjunct Curator at Townhouse Gallery (Cairo, Egypt), over the past few years I had to negotiate with not only increasingly conservative and nationalistic tendencies, but legal restraints being put in place to reinforce these attitudes. With so many Egyptian artists and intellectuals moving into exile, the accountability of Townhouse Gallery to the public to remain open and committed to freedom of expression is increasingly more relevant.
Furthermore, engaging in conversations with local artists Jennifer Teo and Woon Tien Wei (Post- Museum, Singapore) and learning about their interventions to respond to their communities couldn't be more applicable to some of the hard questions we are facing today in Egypt, during a time of major change.
On the third day of the conference, the notion of “right to the city” was vividly illustrated within the Tiong Bahru art and heritage tour, one of the oldest and first public housing projects in Singapore, with its striking Art Deco pre-war architecture. The tour featured the visit of BooksActually, an independent bookstore housing the largest collection of Singapore literary publications and the official bookstore for Singapore Writers Festival (which coincided with the conference). Grey Projects was the final stop of the tour which couldn't conclude any better. An exhibition space, library and artist studio, Grey Projects provides an open platform for research, multiple encounters and publications.
Among the other inspiring visits which enabled us to gain larger insights into Singapore's arts scene, was the NTU Center for Contemporary Art dedicated to research programs, international exhibitions and artist residencies; Singapore Art Museum (SAM) which was the main organizer of the Singapore Biennale in 2013 and 2016; and DECK independent art space - housed within 20 modified shipping containers –which supports photographers through its research based projects and specialized photobook library.
CIMAM 2017 annual conference was stimulating and thought-provoking on a personal and professional level, to say the least. It provided me with fresh reflections on my work practices at Townhouse Gallery. Also, getting to be around 280 delegates from more than 50 countries taught me a lot about how we are all surviving and tackling different issues in our distinctive socio-political and economic situations.
By Rachel Dedman
CIMAM's 2017 Annual Conference was fascinating, stimulating, and impeccably-organised. Questions around regionalism in Southeast Asia, urgencies in the development of collections, and artists' experiences of censure and politics all provided ample food for thought in the complex context of Singapore.
The city, therefore, was a fitting concern with which to open the conference. Nikos Papastergiadis' opening keynote advocated cosmopolitanism as a lens for seeing cities: its heterogeneity a compelling antidote to globalisation's desire to ‘make things commensurate'. However, casual references to ‘democratising the museum' felt reductive given the varied demographic and global turnout of the conference. Increasing numbers of museums exist in contexts where the ‘demos' itself is complicated, contested and uncertain, either due to political occupation (such as in Palestine) or in cases of totalitarianism. Surely by now we are uncomfortable with the idea that museums are island-bastions of democracy that might signal the way in tough times, rather than agents imbricated in the neo-liberal financial and political dynamics that contribute to today's realities?
The strongest moments of the conference were when this was acknowledged and made nuanced. Patrick D. Flores' reference to the curator's ‘intense co-implication' – the leverage of agency within a particular context – felt like one such moment. The final point of his address proposed eluding the ‘colonial optic' by developing object/subject divisions outside and beyond colonial taxonomies, which struck me as a rare practical proposition for decolonising the museum imagination. This resonated with my work at the Palestinian Museum, an institution born within a vacuum of state infrastructure, privately-funded by wealthy individuals and NGOs, though carrying out a public remit. Such cases problematise and challenge any assumptions we may hold around the homogeneity of the museum; reminding us to examine institutions on their own terms, within their local contexts.
Indeed, in this sense the conference was an enriching opportunity to connect with colleagues from all over the world, offering common ground between the localities of my work and those of the Museo de la Solidaridad, Chile; the Museum of Contemporary Art, Yinchuan; and the Museum of Modern Art, Warsaw, among others. Both critical and light-hearted conversations, in the conference room, on the bus and over breakfast, rendered these few intense days the catalyst for new relationships and collaborations. I sincerely thank Alserkal Programming for their generous sponsorship of my participation – it was wonderful to meet Sarah and Asmaa too.
Modern and Contemporary Art Museums: Civil Society, Regionality, and Internationality
By Asmaa Elmongi
Modern and Contemporary art museums present history of every single society and its relation to other societies. They provide us the opportunity to understand the contemporary thoughts of every nation, which in turn could be related to historical and political issues; therefore, they are playing a key role in the world. From this point, I have been introduced to several talks of art museums' professionals during CIMAM 2017 Annual Conference. The theme of the conference was: Roles and Responsibilities of Museums in Civil Society.
Through this article, I would like to highlight particular parts of the speech of three different speakers: Ade Darmawan (Artist, Curator, and Director, Ruangrupa, Jakarta, Indonesia), Donna De Salvo (Deputy Director for International Initiatives and Senior Curator, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, USA), as well as, Jennifer Teo and Woon Tien Wei (Artists, Singapore).
Nobody can deny that art is a common way of communication among individuals. This is due to its accessibility all over the world, and its accompaniment to the contemporary events. It is important to involve the public in the art scene, and to reduce the gap between what people think the role of art is, and the main purpose of art. According to the speech of Ade Darmawan, “The living-together art spaces are an affirmation that art can be situated, quite naturally, among the people.” Darmawan who has directed an art space that is represented in a residential home that becomes a studio and a meeting place for different art events such as exhibitions, workshops, festivals, discussions, film screening, has opened the space to anyone of the neighborhood who want to teach, as a kind of a collaboration to make the public intervene with the place. In addition, the space is available to the public, a year before any event, so that it is like a brainstorming for anyone who wants to share the experience.
Availability of art spaces for the public - even those who are not art professionals - is one of the main hubs for engaging the audience. This is especially true in countries with economic crisis, or countries that experienced a serious political issue. Nations of both of these two cases often have priorities to be concerned about. However, there is always a need for discussions, whether by talking to each other, or by watching or listening to what could encourage them to confront with the situation.
Whitney Museum has been one of these places that supported the American public throughout the last US elections, as what was mentioned by Donna De Salvo. “The museum was open to the public, while the other art spaces and museums were closed. We decided to offer spaces, where people could talk and discuss. It was so energetic”.
Recalling “nations” leads us to mention Regionalism and Internationalism, and talking about Modern and Contemporary Arts is indicating advancement and globalization. While artists were practicing Modern Art as a result of the Industrial Revolution from the 18th to the 19th century, Contemporary Art emerged as a result of globalization. After the World War II, the US started to spread new artistic movements all over the world. Whatever the materials or methods are, it is concerned mainly with political and social issues. The Industrial Revolution provided artists with new techniques and functions, which offered them a new way of seeing nature, light, and colors. The Cultural Cold War resulted in a new perspective of the world.
Artists Jennifer Teo and Woon Tien Wei, who are the founders of Post-Museum – a cultural and social space which is an open platform for examining contemporary life, promoting the arts, and connecting people –, have given attention to regionalism, as a confirmation of their “right to the city”. “Local community-led projects are sidelined as they do not fit into the narrative of ‘grand rebirth' and advancement.” said the artists.
In this confrontation, there is a difference between encouraging Social-Practice art projects, and regional artworks that does not conform to advancement. The first type refers to contemporary works of art that are concerned with social matters, and this is one of the main objectives of Contemporary Art. The latter could indicate local arts. With regards to the term “Practice the City”, which have been referred to by the artists, they have mentioned a number of art projects, which ascertained their practice of Contemporary Art. Since Contemporary Art refers to Internationalism, it cannot be limited to regionalism; on the other hand, we cannot describe art as "regional" by practicing Contemporary Art.
In conclusion, expressing our society or local community, is of a considerable importance. It is a way of involving the public in the art environment, in order to offer them a peaceful method to discuss or exchange opinions. At the same time, we need to spread our thoughts globally. Consequently, there must be a gate to the other societies, through which we can deliver the message, and to assure that the other party will receive it correctly. This gate could be Modern and Contemporary Art museums, or could be museums of “diverse-art”.
In support of the CIMAM 2017 Travel Grant Program, Alserkal Programming sponsored a trip to the CIMAM 2017 Annual Conference for three grantees. The grantees selected were Sarah Bahgat, Adjunct Curator and Archives Manager, Townhouse Gallery, Cairo, Egypt; Rachel Dedman, Independent Curator, Palestinian Museum, Beirut, Lebanon; and Asmaa Elmongi, Curator and External Cultural Relations Coordinator, Museum of Fine Arts of Alexandria, Alexandria, Egypt.
The CIMAM 2017 Annual Conference was held at the National Gallery Singapore between 10-12 November. In 2017, the conference's focus was on The Roles and Responsibilities of Museums in Civil Society. Here, Sarah, Rachel, and Asmaa shared their experiences and learnings from the conference through essays.
What We Plant, What We Owe
I grew up in a small village in southern Slovenia, surrounded by forests. My grandmother gathered herbs; my father and grandfather worked in forestry. From our elders, we learned that the forest gives and the forest takes. We also learned to take only what we needed, and to understand that the forest was not ours to possess.
This knowledge has stayed with me. It shapes how I think about our relationship with the living world, and how I approach the history of the Non-Aligned Movement: not only as a political project of decolonisation and independence, but also as an unfinished experiment in imagining how we might live together, across differences, without submitting to the centres of power.
At the founding conference of the Non-Aligned Movement in Belgrade in 1961, political leaders planted plane trees. Similar ceremonies took place at later summits, with trees chosen for their particular meanings and origins. Flowers, too, were carefully arranged for meetings and diplomatic encounters. These gestures might seem ceremonial, even ornamental. Yet a tree is never only a symbol. It takes root in a particular place, draws water from the earth, grows through time, and outlives those who plant it. It reminds us that political futures, like forests, require conditions in which different forms of life can exist together. But still, we must ask. Who plants, and on whose land? Who decides what should grow, what must be cleared, and which forms of life are considered expendable? The planting of trees, like the language of conservation itself, can also carry the legacy of colonial control over land and people. Colonial forestry turned forests into sources of timber and revenue, closing them to those who had lived from them for generations. Many protected areas were created by displacing the very communities who had cared for the land.
Environmental concerns were not at the centre of the Non-Aligned Movement’s early programme. Gradually, however, ecological balance became inseparable from issues of sovereignty, development and global inequality. The point was larger than protecting nature: it was to ask who profited from its destruction, who controlled its resources, and who was expected to pay the price. These questions remain urgent.
From oil extraction and poisoned landscapes to deforestation and the destruction of ecosystems through war, environmental devastation follows the unequal distribution of power. In Gaza today, the destruction of land, water, farms and olive groves, what many describe as ecocide, shows how the erasure of a people and the erasure of their living environment go hand in hand. To uproot an olive grove is to undo the act of planting, and with it a people’s claim to a future on their own land. There is only one Earth, but we do not inhabit it on equal terms.
Perhaps flowers and trees offer a way of thinking about solidarity beyond political declarations. Not as a universal language that erases differences, but as a practice grounded in specific places, histories and responsibilities. A seed carries the possibility of a future, but never guarantees it. What grows depends on the soil, the climate, the hands that tend it, and the forces that threaten its survival.
To return to the Non-Aligned Movement today is not to restore an idealised past. It is to ask what remains of its unfinished promises, and what new forms of solidarity they might make possible. What would it mean to treat the Earth not as property or an inexhaustible resource, but as a shared condition of life?
We are guests here.
Bojana Piškur
Ljubljana, Slovenia
About the Non-Aligned Constellations Working Group
Grounded in the concept of ‘constellations’ and derived from the Southern Constellations exhibition series (launched in 2019 at Moderna galerija, Ljubljana, Slovenia), this research explores the intersection of art, history, and geography, with a particular focus on the global relationships fostered through the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM). The project investigates the legacy of the Gallery of Art of the Non-Aligned Countries Josip Broz Tito (Titograd, 1981–1995), whose collection, comprising 800 works from 56 NAM countries, is now housed at the Museum of Contemporary Art of Montenegro. Curators Angelina Radaković, Bojana Piškur, and Natalija Vujošević (the initiator of the Art Collection of Non-Aligned Countries Laboratory project at MSUCG) aim to revive the collection through participatory, experimental, and interdisciplinary methods. By engaging with its historical and political context, they seek to reestablish connections with cultural actors from the Global South. Tracing the exchanges of solidarity, this project will reframe the artworks, offering new perspectives on the cultural and political dialogues that shaped both the past and present.
Bojana Piškur is a senior curator at Moderna galerija in Ljubljana. Her research and curatorial work focus on the Yugoslav and post-Yugoslav context, the Non-Aligned Movement, and the evolving concept of the ‘East(s)’. Since 2019, Piškur has curated and co-curated Southern Constellations exhibitions at institutions such as Moderna galerija (Ljubljana), Asia Culture Center, Gwangju (South Korea), Filodrammatica Gallery (Rijeka, Croatia), Museumof Contemporary Art of Montenegro (Podgorica), the Qattan Foundation (Ramallah, Palestine), National Opera and Ballet (Skopje, North Macedonia), and The Mosaic Rooms (London, UK).
Bodies expanding, bodies contracting
I will tell you exactly where the Gallery of Art of the Non-Aligned Countries is located in my memory, in my body, and in the body of the building itself.
It was sometime around 1986, and I was a ten-year-old girl. As part of a school activity, we visited the Gallery of Art of the Non-Aligned Countries “Josip Broz Tito.” The Gallery was housed in the Petrović Palace, in Kruševac Park. We are in the attic, and it is crowded. The air is stuffy, my sweater is itching, I can feel myself sweating, and my feet hurt because of my flat arches. We are having a music lesson, looking at a collection of musical instruments from Indonesia, Burma, and Congo. Our teacher tells us that we belong to the Non-Aligned Movement. She explains that these instruments were gifts to the Gallery from friendly countries. She tells us that, together with these countries, we form a community committed to peaceful coexistence, one that refuses to join military alliances seeking to dominate others through the law of the strongest. She speaks about anti-colonial and anti-imperialist politics, and about how the community of non-aligned countries holds a different vision of the world, one in which relationships are built on mutual support, respect for others, and recognition of differences.
I do not know how much of the political language our teacher used to explain non-alignment I understood at the time. But I clearly remember the feeling that came with realizing that we belonged to something much larger than the country we lived in. My itchy, sweaty body expands from within, and I am filled with a joyful sense of belonging, pride, and responsibility.
Today, this memory feels like an abandoned utopia. But that utopia had its own public infrastructure. The building has shrunk and fallen into neglect. Since the 1990s, three different institutions have occupied it. Behind it, a new and much larger building housing the American Embassy has appeared. For decades, the collection has remained largely out of public view, while the struggle to bring it back into public life continues, with uncertain outcomes.
For years, researchers supported by grants from European, Canadian, and American universities have been visiting the museum to study and write about the non-aligned collection. Their interest often makes an important contribution to the collection’s visibility and understanding. Yet the question remains of how the resources, authority, and outcomes of such research are distributed. Who gets the opportunity to produce knowledge, build an academic career, and determine interpretive frameworks, and who remains the custodian of archival materials and a provider of information? Do the methodologies and principles underpinning these research relationships reflect the very values that are the subject of the research itself? Are these relationships anti-colonial, reciprocal, and grounded in solidarity?
Young people from the local community who visit the museum know almost nothing about this heritage, or about the Non-Aligned Movement. Their political education takes place within the horizon of Euro-Atlantic integration and the market economy, while historical experiences of alternative forms of international relations have almost disappeared from public education. At the same time, cultural heritage is increasingly valued in terms of its tourism and market potential.
In the post-Cold War order, marked by new forms of neocolonial domination, the heritage of non-alignment is becoming increasingly visible within international academia, while remaining difficult to access for the communities from which it emerged. It acquires new value as an object of research, but not necessarily as public knowledge or social practice. Today, narratives surrounding the political imagination of non-alignment circulate predominantly through the channels of Western academia and within the specialized discourse of contemporary art, in publications and at panels where access is restricted by class, economic, and institutional barriers.
These barriers determine whose bodies can expand from within today, and whose contract. They are not merely obstacles to accessing information, but part of a broader asymmetrical distribution of resources, knowledge, and the possibility of imagining the world differently. In postsocialist societies, where decades of privatization have transformed material and collectively held goods, the question arises whether a similar fate threatens heritage, ideas, and political imagination itself.
I wonder how we can learn from the Non-Aligned Movement today without turning its heritage into yet another resource for academic and market valorization. How can we re-establish the principles of solidarity, reciprocity, and collective action as practices, beginning with research exchanges and the production of knowledge themselves? How can we once again create places where bodies can expand from within, where knowledge can generate a sense of belonging, solidarity, and the possibility of imagining the world differently?
And who will have access to those places?
Natalija Vujošević,
Podgorica, Montenegro
About the Non-Aligned Constellations Working Group
Grounded in the concept of ‘constellations’ and derived from the Southern Constellations exhibition series (launched in 2019 at Moderna galerija, Ljubljana, Slovenia), this research explores the intersection of art, history, and geography, with a particular focus on the global relationships fostered through the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM). The project investigates the legacy of the Gallery of Art of the Non-Aligned Countries Josip Broz Tito (Titograd, 1981–1995), whose collection, comprising 800 works from 56 NAM countries, is now housed at the Museum of Contemporary Art of Montenegro. Curators Angelina Radaković, Bojana Piškur, and Natalija Vujošević (the initiator of the Art Collection of Non-Aligned Countries Laboratory project at MSUCG) aim to revive the collection through participatory, experimental, and interdisciplinary methods. By engaging with its historical and political context, they seek to reestablish connections with cultural actors from the Global South. Tracing the exchanges of solidarity, this project will reframe the artworks, offering new perspectives on the cultural and political dialogues that shaped both the past and present.
Natalija Vujošević is a curator, researcher and cultural organiser based in Montenegro. Her work is particularly concerned with Yugoslav and post-Yugoslav cultural and political histories and with the relationships between historical material, institutional memory, and contemporary conditions. In 2024, she received the Igor Zabel Grant, awarded in recognition of outstanding achievements by curators, art historians, theorists, writers, and critics working in the field of visual.
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