During the opening of the Berlin Biennale, I was there (arrived alone) present and absent, made invisible by a large power structure. I had no work on display (because all the works and solutions I proposed were denied or postponed), to the extent that there I was at my own opening, with no work. I met friends who asked me: “Is this your work?” or others who asked: “Are you here to visit the Biennale?” “Why isn’t your name on the flyer?” I was like that, a visitor, at my own opening, without “permission” or “authority” to show my work. They asked me to be patient, more patient and to wait until after the opening. I felt psychologically abused. A friend told me to look up the meaning of “gas lighting.” I tried to be calm, but my blood was boiling, and I asked myself: “What are you and why are you here?” The answer came to my mind in the form of this work. That was exactly how I was feeling, like I was preparing myself for a race that happening over and over again, but that they wouldn’t let me run in.
I decided to do this action on my own and reclaim my space. They resisted me, but I was stronger. You could see the rage in my face at the verbal pressure and physical sabotage of the censors obstructing my work. But I was stronger.
Note 1: The poem I wrote then at night, in the hotel, and finished the following day while traveling by train.
Note 2: The Biennale agreed to exhibit the video but they did not want to include the poem, which is part of the work.
Update one month after the interview: I would like to point out that communication and interaction with the Biennial technical team has improved in the last few weeks. This will have a positive impact during my upcoming presentations in August and September.
Translation: Sara Hanaburgh