The photo project "All the people" shows people who define and live out "gender" in their own way. Jana Maria Knoop describes her very personal thoughts when looking at the pictures - and during the exhibition opening.
The exhibition "All the people" has been running at the NEUEN GALERIE BERLIN since July, and I was asked if I would like to put my impressions of the photographs and the opening evening into words. All the people" is an international book project by the married couple Bernd Ott (photographer) and Emily Besa (author and creative consultant) on the subject of transgender people - a term that is used less as a self-description in this country, but is certainly a possibility. I prefer the word trans*.
The exhibition had already been open for half an hour when I arrived at Ludwigkirchstraße 11 in Berlin-Wilmersdorf. At this point, the gallery was already filled to the brim with numerous visitors, curious glances and chatty words. Of course, the "stars" of the evening were already there: the photographs were lined up close together along the two long sides of the relatively small gallery, extending into the depths of the room. They always kept a little distance from each other so that each picture could enjoy the attention of each individual viewer.
Right at the beginning, 5-year-old "Birdie" greeted me with a heart-warming and sincere smile. She looked out of her picture frame towards my feet. It felt like a quick but very private conversation between us. I then briefly checked my standing position, tapping my right foot on the floor. Firm and secure. Very good. Then we could get started.
Different styles were chosen for the presentation of the individual photographs. There were large-format pictures without frames, some of which were accompanied by text excerpts from the photo book, and there were small-format prints that were stylishly presented with a space-creating white passe-partout and black framing. I have deliberately refrained from describing the people depicted here (and in the rest of my report). Judgements based on outward appearances and the desire for gender categorisation often associated with this are a violent experience for many trans* people, among others. I also think that the photographs should speak for themselves. However, as already mentioned, the pictures were hung very close together and I would have liked more space between the individual works, but perhaps that was just my personal impression, as I can be distracted quite easily by neighbouring close-up objects.
" You can't judge a book by its cover"
Over the course of the evening, I spent several rounds taking in the pictures. During the first walk, I constantly had the feeling - but also the lingering question in my head - of what was particularly worth exhibiting in this exhibition. Rather, I had the impression that I was leafing through a family album or looking at holiday photos of friends and acquaintances. After just a brief glance, the people in the pictures appeared to me as people close to me, as people from the centres of my life. In some places, it was not so easy to get a good viewing angle on the exhibits, as the exhibition space was full of visitors, each with a glass of wine in hand and engrossed in various conversations. Whether they were talking about the exhibition or about their own everyday lives is not something I can clearly state here for interested readers, as I only heard snatches of words. In any case, the photographs on the walls seemed quite unimpressed by these conversations. It was very similar for me.
And "Becky", who whispered the words "you can't judge a book by its cover" to me from her picture, also seemed unimpressed. This sentence immediately prompted me to take a second walk, during which I felt that I was developing a closeness to some of the pictures - a closeness that seemed familiar, almost familiar.
The large-format photographs were able to develop even greater depth due to their size and the accompanying text excerpts. This could also be clearly felt when leafing through the photo book laid out for viewing. The detailed texts gave the viewer a further unembellished insight into the biographies of the 39 people photographed. An insight beyond the boundaries of the majority society's ideas of "women" and "men". Once again, I thought of my many different encounters with people for whom knowledge of their gender identity simply does not play a decisive role.
Following this thought, I was called back to reality by the announcement of the opening speeches, whereupon I listened to the words of the speakers and my hitherto positive mood began to waver, sometimes even threatening to tip over. Yes, on the surface, what was said may have been quite all right, and I can see the good intentions behind it. But it shows me what position trans* people (have to) take most of the time. They are often made invisible, they are simply not (yet) present. Or they are portrayed as "exotic" and "different", as exciting and thrilling. It was not the first time that the image of a zoo animal arose in my mind's eye - talked about, stared at or consumed as if on an "experience tour".
I would like to cordially invite anyone who feels doubts or rising resentment due to my statements to use this excellent opportunity to ask themselves about their own position within society. Mechanisms of exclusion, devaluation and discrimination are not always recognisable at first glance and cannot always be tolerated as soon as they are named or exposed.
And yes, of course the appearance of the man who calls himself "FtM" (stands for "Female to Male", editor's note.), "self-made man" and trans activist Benjamin Melzer offered those present space for any questions that arose. However, afterwards I was left with the somewhat bittersweet aftertaste of a well-chosen self-promotion strategy. This is perfectly legitimate and understandable, but for me it doesn't have much in common with activism and lobbying for trans*. At the end of the words spoken, the questions and answers, I was left standing in a room full of people with the thought that we do not (yet) live in a society that automatically recognises the existence of trans* people, for example.
"Strength. Resilience. But also exhaustion."
But my reason for visiting the exhibition was the paintings, so I wanted to give them my attention. So I also grabbed a glass of white wine, loaded a few cubes of cheese onto my hand and focussed on each individual painting once again. Incidentally, the speeches had made me feel even more connected to the pictures. Perhaps solidarity is the right word for it.
Time passed, the evening drew to a close, the visitors gradually left the gallery and the room filled with space again. Now I had a clearer and more generous view of the photographs on the walls. Only now did I realise crystal clear what the pictures symbolised for me: strength. Resilience. But also exhaustion.
Yes, it was this seemingly exhausted melancholy in the eyes of the protagonists that appealed to me. It seemed to me as if they were finally among themselves again and finally had a bit of peace from the world for which they were so often "different" or in which they were so often made "different". I said thank you and goodbye to the pictures and made my way home. To end with the words under Mirella's picture: "On good days I love being trans."
The exhibition can be seen until Saturday, 13 August in:
NEW GALLERY BERLIN
Ludwigkirchstraße 11
10719 Berlin
Opening hours:
Monday to Friday
from 10:00 - 18:00
Saturday
from 10:00 - 13:00
