Review of ‘Freiraum Kunst’ at Schloss Bellevue

by Dagmara Genda // June 19, 2026

‘Freiraum Kunst,’ the two-week temporary exhibition in Schloss Bellevue, was a missed opportunity to back up words with action. “A stable democracy must be able to endure a difference of opinion,” proclaimed Federal President Frank-Walter Steinmeier (SPD) in his opening speech on the front lawn of the 1785 Prussian palace that, until recently, served as his residence and office. Now emptied for renovation, it is the site of an exhibition that features a selection of Akademie der Künste member artists, curated by Anh-Linh Ngo, Cécile Wajsbrot and Manos Tsangaris. Steinmeier was already once criticized by his CDU coalition partners for stating the truth about the illegality of the U.S.-led war in Iran, a public disagreement that showed that the expectations of a stable democracy don’t necessarily align with the expectations of a stable government coalition. And so the somewhat staid exhibition doesn’t really demonstrate the resilience of democratic discourse, as it could have by challenging the censorious turn in government cultural policy. It simply continues to toe the official party line.

Christian Awe: roof installation as part of ‘FREIRAUM KUNST. Akademie der Künste goes Bellevue,’ installation view at Schloss Bellevue, June 13–28, 2026 // Photo © dotgain

One of the roles of the Akademie der Künste is to advise the government on culture and art, as well as advocate for free expression. The curators claimed to do exactly that by not “subordinating the works to a single thesis,” though it is obvious that decisions had to be made. The show stuck to the usual safe political points. A weak nod to feminism was made through a variety of works, support for Ukraine was understandably expressed, memory culture was touched upon by the inclusion of Gregor Schneider’s somewhat over-determined ‘Geburtshaus Goebbels’ (2014) and German unification also had to be there, represented by Jürgen Böttcher’s iconic ‘Die Mauer’ (1990). The quality of the individual works was, however, devalued by the impression of checking off curatorial and political boxes. Presented dutifully together in the hallowed halls once housing Prussia’s first museum for contemporary art—the “Fatherland Gallery” founded in 1844—they just seemed to weigh each other down.

Jürgen Böttcher/Strawalde: ‘Die Mauer,’ directed by Jürgen Böttcher, cinematography by Thomas Plenert, DDR 1990, 99 Min., filmstill, installation view in ‘FREIRAUM KUNST. Akademie der Künste goes Bellevue,’ at Schloss Bellevue, June 13–28, 2026 // © DEFA-Stiftung / Thomas Plenert, photo © dotgain

Opening the show in the foyer was street artist El Bocho’s signature depiction of a girl’s face, this time wearing what might be a school uniform. Titled ‘Die Bundespräsidentin’ (2026), the portrait was touted as proposing a historic first—a female Federal President. Despite its good intentions, the representation of a school-aged girl made the potential critique come off as a bit of a mockery. Must the future president also be young and cute? Or is the mismatch of aesthetics an attempt to point out how much of a long shot this historic first actually is?

The second female figure, which garnered extensive media attention before the show even opened, was Alexandra Bircken’s ‘Trolley I mit Eva’ (2026). The work featured a bronze cast of a Japanese sex doll, which, according to the exhibition text, “reflects on the male gaze through which women’s bodies are turned into objects, revealing how they are shaped and rendered available within a globalized patriarchal order.” It is debatable if Bircken’s work is revealing much of anything that is not already grotesquely unfolding on the world stage, or is in fact better contextualized within the lineage of post-Courbet depictions of vaginas (minus the women who have them), including Marcel Duchamp’s ‘Étant donnés’ (1966), Hans Bellmer’s ‘La Poupée’ (1936) or the more recent ‘Maid’s Room’ (2020) by Richard Jackson.

Alexandra Bircken: ‘Trolley II mit Eva,’ 2026, steel, bronze, wood, hair, motorcycle suit, installation view in ‘FREIRAUM KUNST. Akademie der Künste goes Bellevue,’ at Schloss Bellevue, Junr 13–28, 2026 // Alexandra Bircken © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2026, photo © dotgain

A kind of “embodied” politics continued with Monica Bonvicini’s ‘Hard String’ (2017), which at least also incorporated male torsos, although the exhibition text strangely only mentioned the “interchangeability, standardization and media staging of female bodies.” Boris Mikhailov’s ‘mother and baby, Crimea, Ukraine’ (1990) depicted a larger-than-life statuesque female nude, head thrust back and disappearing behind the shoulders, breasts forward-center, lifting a baby into the sky as if in an act of triumph. The image reads, 36 years after its creation, as a symbol of Ukrainian resilience, a will to live and keep living via the age-old symbolism of the woman’s body as the seat of fertility and as an allegory for the nation. But wasn’t the woman-as-available-and-interchangeable-symbol criticized in the other texts, or is this particular symbol currently politically correct?

Monica Bonvicini: ‘Hard String,’ 2017, detail, installation view in ‘FREIRAUM KUNST. Akademie der Künste goes Bellevue,’ at Schloss Bellevue, June 13–28, 2026 // Monica Bonvicini © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2026, photo © dotgain

The choices of work and their slapdash interpretations shone a strong light on those that were missing. Where were the Palestinian and Jewish voices? Candice Breitz and Mona Hatoum, for example, are also Akademie der Künste members. Both would have been necessary political and artistic positions that could have testified to a democracy’s ability to include difference as well as foreground freedom of speech and the freedom of the arts. Though film would have been difficult to curate, the inclusion of Agnieszka Holland could have also been an important voice in reference to the refugee crisis and the brutal closure of borders.

And where was the real biting political critique? A room filled with the posters of previous Akademie der Künste president and current member Klaus Staeck would have shown historical parallels and given concise words to contemporary problems. ‘Eigentum verpflichtet zur Ausbeutung’ (1973), for example, would have poked a finger in the wound of Berlin’s housing crisis. But perhaps ‘Der Aktionäre ist das größte Säugetier’ (1975) might give Friedrich Merz reason to stretch the justice system with yet another confounding libel complaint. ‘Nostalgie ist noch lange kein Grund CDU zu wählen’ (1974) could have also prompted the public ire of coalition partners.

In this context, Jochen Gerz’s poignant video, ‘To Call until Exhaustion’ (1972), which could be seen in the various rooms of the exhibition, takes on a particularly heavy meaning. His lone, desperate calling figure stands in for a public trying to be heard by a bulky government exemplified by arrogance and indifference. But most of us won’t be able to visit the show anyway, since it is already booked out. The majority of us will have to content ourselves with Bjørn Melhus’ ‘SOS Signal – in der Dunkelheit erstahlt ein Licht’ (2021/2026). Every day of the exhibition, starting at 10pm and ending at 1am, all the lights of the palace, like those of a sinking ship, will flash the distress signal in Morse code. The question is: who is making the distress call? A tired art system whose half-hearted critiques just seem to ornament rather than speak truth to power, or a floundering democracy calling for its life raft? Will it, like Gerz’s figure, also call out until exhaustion? Hopefully not, but along with Gerz’s video, it is one of the most apposite works in the show.