‘Sorry, society doesn’t develop like this’ Stéphane Bauer, the director of Kunstraum Kreuzberg hosting Meduza’s ‘No’ exhibition, explains how he avoids becoming trapped in an art bubble
The Kunstraum Kreuzberg/Bethanien in Berlin is hosting the Meduza-organized exhibition “No” until July 6. This project brings together artists and journalists to discuss how the world has changed over the last decade. The venue was not chosen by chance. For more than 50 years, Kunstraum Kreuzberg has served as a hub for protest artists, political activists, and representatives of minority groups. Since 2003, curator Stéphane Bauer has led the institution, which has survived many attacks from conservatives under his leadership. In an interview with Anton Khitrov, Bauer discusses how his institution attempts to attract new communities and resist the commercialization of contemporary art.
— What are these boxes you have?
In Bauer’s office, on the cabinet, there are boxes that resemble cereal and laundry detergent, but instead of brand names, they read “Lies” and “Advertising shit in your head.”
— It was a very special exhibition about the art of adbusting. Adbusting is when you take over the places where there is advertising and you change its content. You make fake advertising to point out political, social, and other issues. It’s against the capitalistic system, against making money out of everything. It’s a very creative way to take over the landscape of the city. The point of adbusting is to say that not only companies are allowed to take over the public sphere, but we — as creatives, as artists, as politically engaged people — can also take it over and change its content. The exhibition was about different strategies of adbusting: it can be done outside and inside. These boxes were part of a fake supermarket. The authors pointed out that all these products are not healthy, that the companies want to make money out of it.
This exhibition, titled “Werbepause – The Art of Subvertising,” took place at Kunstraum Kreuzberg in 2022. The curatorial team consisted mainly of artists, many of whom — like British-Irish Darren Cullen, founder of the project Spelling Mistakes Cost Lives Limited, who created the fake supermarket — practice adbusting (aka subvertising) themselves.
— The CDU was attacking us. “You are promoting illegal actions in the public space,” they were saying. We had two pages in newspapers accusing us of providing and promoting illegal actions.
— I feel there is a big story between Kunstraum Kreuzberg and CDU.
The CDU (Christian Democratic Union) is a center-right political party that won Germany’s parliamentary elections in 2025. In the 1970s, Kreuzberg district councillors from the CDU demanded that the district mayor investigate the work of Dieter Ruckhaberle, who was then director of Kunstraum Kreuzberg, and criticized the German authorities for their policies towards migrants.
— The CDU is always in opposition in Kreuzberg. They are a very small party here. So, in some way, it’s their role to attack the leftist mayor and their politics. I think if we would have a mayor from the CDU, then maybe other parties like SPD would say, “What are you doing there?” I think it’s not a question about the party, it’s more a question about the understanding of what art should do and what art should not do, and what is allowed in a public institution like here. It’s a big issue nowadays with a new minister who is very right-wing.
In 2025, conservative publicist Wolfram Weimer became Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media in Friedrich Merz’s new government cabinet. Weimer criticizes multiculturalism, the decolonial agenda, and queer movements.
— All the discussions about anti-Semitic accusations against artists. What is the role of the artist and art, and what is the freedom of art?
Bauer refers to artists and cultural figures who got into trouble in Germany after speaking out in support of Palestine. One of them was Candice Breitz, whose 2023 exhibition was canceled by the Saarland Museum's Modern Gallery. Breitz is Jewish.
— Of course, I think there should be a debate about it, because of course I wouldn’t agree… like, I think it has to be art, you know? We don’t make exhibitions with only a statement. I think art always creates an ambiguous and ambivalent situation. That’s the role of art — to create a discussion, to create new thoughts, to create a situation to discuss something, to create a discourse. Some people don’t understand that. It’s not the question of which party they are. It’s more a question of what they understand about art.
In 2004, the Kunstraum Kreuzberg showed the project “When Love Turns to Poison,” dedicated to sexuality and sex. The organizers were accused of pornography and protecting pedophilia. The tabloid press launched a campaign against the exhibition and the site. The protests almost led to the resignation of the mayor of Kreuzberg, Cornelia Reinauer.
— There were conservative and far-right people against it, but there were also far-left people. So, to give you an example, it was very intense. One day, I got a phone call from people I know who are linked to the far left. And they said, “Here, we know you, we know the place. We are ourselves artists. We have connections to far-left people, and we heard that tonight they’re going to attack your place and remove the whole exhibition.” I took it really seriously. The police were there, in front of the building, to take care of the exhibition, so that no one could enter the space and destroy everything. The accusation was that we promote child abuse, which was stupid.
Or another example, at the Akademie der Künste, there were also leftist people. They came into the exhibition like, “Where is the child abuse art? You changed the exhibition because of this scandal!” They were walking around looking in every space. But we didn’t change anything.
In that case, of course, we are not a normal gallery, because a normal gallery or curator would say, “Art is free. Art is always without a purpose. Pure aesthetics.” And I don’t believe in pure aesthetics. I think art should always trigger something in your head. It should trigger questions and discussions in society and politics. Of course, there is freedom of art, and there is aesthetics, and art should be built with the method of aesthetics. But art is also a language for me. Language creates sense. But art is a language that can open your mind instead of giving you answers.
I think it’s really necessary to do that more and more because we live in a society where somehow everything is defined: rules you have to follow, how you go to school… Everything is very, very small-sized. And I think you need, as a human being, you need the space where you’re like, “Oh, I didn’t know that.” “What is it? I don’t understand it.” There is no answer. It’s not there to be understandable. By learning that, you’re also more aware of challenges in society.
— You mentioned the political culture of this neighborhood of Kreuzberg. I read in some of your interviews that this neighborhood has changed a lot, and this famous old Kreuzberg is gone. What’s it all about?
— There are two aspects I have pointed out: the history of Kreuzberg and also the way Kreuzberg was built. So, I’ll try to make it short. The first houses on the street are huge, these are very bourgeois flats. There are quite rich people living there. But then you have the first and the second courtyard, where workers lived who worked 12 hours per day. And then in the third and fourth courtyards, there were small industries. So, it was a short way to work. Here, it was a hospital where these workers had to fix the arms that were taken away by machines.
Kunstraum Kreuzberg is situated within the former Bethanien Hospital. It was built here in the mid-19th century. The hospital operated for more than a century. In 1970, the authorities sought to demolish it, but the local community defended the historic building, and a cultural center subsequently emerged there.
— When Berlin was liberated after the war, very harsh economic changes happened, and industry went away. Kreuzberg was in the far east of West Berlin. The wall was there. Look out the window: where you see that car now, there used to be the wall. This was also the reason why all these places were empty. It was not demolished by the bombs, but no one wanted to live here at the far end of West Berlin.
Then immigrants arrived — a large number of immigrants. And also young leftist students who were looking for cheap places to live. They came from West Germany to escape from going to the army, to shoot some communist enemies. Students lived in very large former industrial spaces, like 1,200 square meters [almost 13,000 square feet], which was very cheap. They built walls to live there with 10 people and created new sorts of communities. This was the ground for a new alternative scene. Artists came, of course, because they could rent a huge former industrial apartment, 100 square meters [about 1,075 square feet], for $200. This was the ground for this very alternative, very political situation. Immigrants and leftist young people wanting to change the world.
And then the wall came down. Kreuzberg became the center of the new capital. It was no longer the far end of West Berlin. Of course, there was enormous economic pressure, and people wanted to make money out of housing in all these places. Many artists had to go. The first wave of new residents was the so-called “creative industries.” Architects, designers… Small, cool, still making money, able to pay. Later, these creative industries were forced to go away as well, and only venture capital was able to stay. Of course, this has an enormous, tremendous influence on how the rent increases. If you don’t keep your rental contract and are evicted, then they hike up the rent, and it’s over.
— So, in this century, your audience has renewed?
— Well, not totally. If you are able to keep your rental contract, you stay there. I know people who still live in a small apartment in Kreuzberg, paying only 100, or 200, or 300 euros [$115–$345], because they kept their contract. That’s good in Germany. There are certain regulations.
According to German law, rents for housing in Germany can increase by no more than 15 percent over a three-year period.
I think one way you see it is that there are quite big changes in schools. When I started to work in 2002, there were primary schools where 90–95 percent of the students were Turkish migrant children. Now it’s only 50 percent. Twenty years ago, they were all complaining, “We have to teach them how to behave.” Now these classes are full of children from very rich families.
Your question was about our audience. I think there are four of them. There is still a neighborhood living here, and we feel it on Sundays or Friday afternoons. They make their Sunday walk with the dog, or they want to have breakfast somewhere, or they want some fresh air, and then they just enter the Kunstraum. I think they don’t even look at the title of the institution, they just know there’s no entrance fee and that it’s open from 10 to 8. I know some of them. Sometimes they say, “Wow, wonderful show, thank you…” Sometimes they may say, “Oh, this one was really bad.” They return every eight weeks for every show. Some of them come three times to watch all the videos.
The second audience is international, including tourists. We are advertised as a place that you can visit for free. Some people think, “Oh, where can I go in Berlin without having to pay 15 or 20 euros?” Then there’s the culturally interested crowd.
And then, of course, the fourth part. Like with the “No” exhibition, I think we never had so many Russian-speaking people. Or with this adbusting exhibition, we had politicians, people from activist movements. What I always try with a show is to create a new context. When a curator or an artist offers me a project, I often say, “You know, maybe it’s interesting, but let’s think together what could be the hook to the outside world.” Not only aesthetics. Not art for art. It’s about more than having a cool or an important artist. All this is the second aspect. The first aspect is always to look for the hook and attract as many people from outside as you can, not only from the art scene.
So, we did projects about street art, also trying to involve people who are not usually going to galleries. We did a project about urban gardening. There’s one urban garden in front of my window, so I opened it and asked some people, “Hey, in one year we will do an exhibition about urban gardening. I want you to make the side program and invite anyone who’s interested. You can have a conference, a meeting, or some workshops. There will also be art, there will be people from the art scene coming, and so we will have an encounter.”
The exhibition, titled “Hungry City: Agriculture and Food in Contemporary Art,” took place in 2012 and was curated by Anne Kersten and Stéphane Bauer. Among the works on display was a documentation of Agnes Denes’s famous 1982 land art project “Wheatfield — A Confrontation,” in which the artist grew a wheat field in Manhattan. Denes described the project as “an intrusion of the country into the metropolis, the world’s richest real estate.”
Then we had many discussions with urban gardening activists saying, “Your exhibition is making urban gardening fancy, it’s not good.” I said, “Sorry, society doesn’t develop like this.” We have to create discussions, be political, and go to boundaries, but we also have to open spaces. Neither the activists nor the artists should stay with themselves. That’s what I call a hook: I try to make projects that go outside of the art world.
It’s also important for me not to lose contact with the art scene. Some people say, “It’s interesting, but sometimes the shows are really strange.” Because it’s something other than artsy-artsy work. I don’t want an opening with people standing with champagne and only talking with themselves.
— So, your strategy is mixing communities?
— Yeah, mixing communities, mixing approaches.
— At the end of last year, Berlin reduced its cultural budget by 12 percent. Why is this happening, and how does it affect cultural life?
— One reason is very formal: the state is not allowed to incur debt anymore over a certain limit. The budgets in general are too big and break this law. When you compare Germany with other countries, Germany is still very conservative in terms of spending. The other reason is political: there’s a culture war in Germany, a tough discussion on the role of art and everything. Some people believe they could renew art in a conservative way.
There are a lot of right-wing people who say, “All these leftist artists are only in their bubble, only interested in what they do.” I would say no, it’s the opposite. And I think the neo-liberal artsy-artsy gallery scene, which is only working on art fairs, thinking of art as a product to sell, they are in their bubbles. What we try to do is to involve other communities, to use art as a language for education.
Even at the level of the district, I sometimes get questions like “Why are you only making leftist projects?” I don’t understand it, because we don’t do leftist projects or right projects, we are trying to reach new communities and create new languages. Of course, I wouldn’t do anything with anti-democratic approaches.
— Are you saying that cutting the budget actually helps commercial art and harms political art spaces such as Kunstraum Kreuzberg?
— Yes. They say, “You are an artist, so earn your money by yourself. You want to be independent, so be independent like a designer.”
— Something similar is being said by the Russian authorities. For example, there’s former Culture Minister Vladimir Medinsky, who is currently negotiating with Ukraine in Istanbul. While he was in charge of cultural policy in Russia, he argued that artists should only be allowed to criticize the government with their own money.
— To be honest, it’s the same question we were asked with “When Love Turns to Poison.” We were asked, “Why do you spend money from the state to make a photographic exhibition?” Then we had a scandal with the exhibition of street art.
The street art exhibition “Backjumps – The Live Issue” curated by Adrian Nabi, Stéphane Bauer, and Studio Anti took place at Kunstraum Kreuzberg in 2003. Banksy was among its participants. At that time, street art had not yet become a recognized part of contemporary art. The institution subsequently held several more street art exhibitions under the same name, “Backjumps.”
— “You made an exhibition with funding from the federal government and from the city of Berlin to promote graffiti which destroys the city.” The exhibition was, like, I think, 50,000 euros [roughly $56,500 in 2003]. At that time, the police were going with helicopters at night with special cameras to film people doing graffiti on trains. I’m sure every flight with these helicopters was more expensive than our project.
— Street art is now actually also commercialized; it’s like a tool of gentrification.
— Yes, I agree. At the moment, I wouldn’t do it anymore. I think one reason is that all these people in the street art scene were unable to get financing, so they were really attached to commercial companies. Now they’re doing advertising.
— Your institution is famous for its work with immigrant communities. I read very inspiring stories about the exhibitions that took place here in the 1970s in protest against xenophobia and the state’s anti-migrant policies, exhibitions like “Mehmet Kam Aus Anatolien” and “Nazim Hikmet.”
— What is important for an art institution is to make it possible for people with different backgrounds to do things. But also to avoid traps like, “Oh, it’s Orientalistic! How nice! How cute!”
I think the main problem for me in Germany at the moment is really racism, and not only in Germany — in Europe, you can say, or in the USA. Racism is like COVID. I fear it’s growing. For the last few years, I have tried to read about racism, what is the reason for it. To be honest, I don’t understand it. I’m half French. My great-grandfather was in the First World War. He lost his arm due to injuries. I remember him. He was a farmer. He pumped water with one hand to give water to his plants. And he had nothing against my father, who was German.
I’m actually very lucky, I’m running a very nice place in the middle of an international town. I can gather people from all over the world around me and work on projects with them. And I know that in other parts of the country it’s not possible anymore, because either they don’t care anymore, or it’s too dangerous for them.
Interview by Anton Khitrov