by Mia Butter // Sept. 18, 2026
Situated in Kreuzberg, Gropius Bau pays homage to its Kiez by examining the history and influence of migrant workers in the area. ‘Kreuzberg: Kunst und Migration seit 1960,’ as the exhibition is aptly titled, presents art created by so-called “Gastarbeiter” (guest workers), their descendants and those who came to West Germany in exile, for their studies or under other circumstances. While adults came to West Germany to work, their children entered a country that had made little provision for them. Past the double doors on the second floor of the Gropius Bau, Vlassis Caniaris’ ‘Kind’ (1980) welcomes the viewer into the space, its front bike tire flattened and windmill in its outstretched hand frozen. The tone has been set at this point: beyond labor, the term “Gastarbeiter” implies a cultural movement in Germany, encompassing family, politics, cultural exchange and identity.
‘Kreuzberg: Kunst und Migration seit 1960,’ installation view, Gropius Bau, 2026 // © Gropius Bau, photo by Rosa Merk
Across 11 rooms and over 40 artistic positions, ‘Kreuzberg’ presents a selection of underrepresented voices in art in Germany, discussing an uncomfortable history of immigration politics and how it reflects in the present. Several of the exhibited artists participated in the DAAD program, such as Eduardo Paolozzi, Jannis Psychopedis, Irena Vrkljan and Vlassis Caniaris. While some came specifically for the program, and others immigrated for economic reasons, the show does something rare enough to be mentioned: it depicts the immigrant as artist. Othering and flattening the experience of so-called “guest workers” as simply workers negates their contribution to their communities and influence on the areas they inhabit. The illusion that Gastarbeiter were solely pieceworkers is one way of minimizing their experiences; a form of racism and classism that sees migrant workers as cogs in a machine and not multifaceted, emotional or creative.
‘Kreuzberg: Kunst und Migration seit 1960,’ installation view, Gropius Bau, 2026 // © Gropius Bau, photo by Rosa Merk
This history unfolds through video works, paintings, sculptures, wall texts and audio installations. A diverse range of works spreads across 11 rooms dedicated to specific themes, such as letter-writing, political engagement of migrant workers, the streets as a playground and persistent national-socialist sentiments. Dividing rooms into themes for exhibitions as large as this one has its reasoning, but isn’t necessarily the way to approach something as complex as immigration. What works well here, though, is that the exhibition focuses on Kreuzberg, not Germany in its entirety and not even Berlin, in which several other neighborhoods were inhabited by guest workers. Narrowing the lens allows for the art to guide the themes and gives visitors an opportunity for self-research. At no point does ‘Kreuzberg’ feel like an exhaustive account of the Gastarbeiter experience, nor does it intend to be. For visitors less familiar with the subject, the show offers an entry point rather than a conclusion. Against the backdrop of far-right gains and hostile rhetoric around immigration in Germany, the institution carries a certain responsibility, one that Gropius Bau appears to understand in this instance.
‘Kreuzberg: Kunst und Migration seit 1960,’ installation view, Gropius Bau, 2026 // © Gropius Bau, photo by Rosa Merk
Mehrangis Montazami-Dabui: ‘Analphabeten in zwei Sprachen,’ 1975 // Courtesy of Film Distribution of Deutschen Kinemathek – Museum für Film und Fernsehen, © Mehrangis Montazami-Dabui
A particular highlight is Mehrangis Montazami-Dabui’s 1975 film titled ‘Analphabeten in zwei Sprachen,’ or ‘Illiterate in two languages.’ Montazami-Dabui presents the reality of children of guest workers growing up in Germany who are neither fluent in Turkish nor in German. There were no government programs at the time to support these children, and the effects this had on their cultural identities, not to mention their employment and educational situations in adulthood, was yet to be seen. Montazami-Dabui’s moving pictures are accompanied by Esther Friedman’s photographs stuck to the wall across from the boxy CRT-monitor. These depictions of life on the streets of Kreuzberg in the late 1970s show a group of young girls playfully working the camera, all while Friedman’s partner, a kind of Iggy Pop, smirks in the background. Arguably, it’s a pretty accurate snapshot of Kreuzberg’s appeal to all walks of life, and its reality as a home, playground and social stomping ground.
Esther Friedman: ‘Kreuzberg,’ 1978/2026 // © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2026
Perhaps that’s what is so often missing from the narrative on immigration: expression. The exhibition’s achievement isn’t the obvious statement that immigrants contributed to the life of Kreuzberg, but that it pushes against the idea that their experience can be understood only through work and discrimination. They exceed their status as evidence of discrimination and labor policy: they make things, photograph each other, paint each other, write letters. It’s exciting to see an imperfect institutional perspective on the matter, not there to give you a summary, but rather the opportunity to engage with a history that may or might not be your own. Existing in Kreuzberg means interacting with this history, and if there is one take away from this show, it should be to recognize the impact of these communities on Berlin today. With several trends swirling around institutional exhibition-making, let this nuanced approach to immigration politics in the arts stick around a while longer.
Exhibition Info
Gropius Bau
Group Show: ‘Kreuzberg: Kunst und Migration seit 1960’
Exhibition: Sept. 10, 2026-Jan. 17, 2027
berlinerfestspiele.de
Niederkirchnerstraße 7, 10963 Berlin, click here for map
