A speculative pop-up boutique selling survival gear for mothers searching the Mexican desert for their children's bones arrives at Studio Я, turning the language of consumerism into an indictment of the global economy of disappearance.
A new queer rave series names itself after the body's most unseparated opening, daring its audience to find the room — though whether that room is in Berlin or Pittsburgh remains genuinely unresolved.
At FIND 2026, Katie Mitchell — a director who built her reputation cracking open literary texts with surgical live-camera precision — abandons language entirely for a piece about the sounds of a cow and a deer, daring the Schaubühne's most literate audience to sit with what theatre becomes when human speech is no longer the point.
At Berlin's Museum für Fotografie, 300 photographs from the Bauhaus-Archiv finally assemble the women who shaped the school's visual language — from Lucia Moholy's architecture shots misattributed for decades to the subversive commercial work of ringl+pit — into a case not for recovery, but for reckoning with how thoroughly they were written out.
Marina Abramović's twenty-year journey from a video of women baring themselves to scare away storms has become a four-hour durational epic with dozens of performers, and Gropius Bau — sitting in the shadow of the Topography of Terror — is the next building asked to hold it.
Femi Kuti brings Positive Force and four decades of inherited, lived political Afrobeat to a Neukölln ballroom built for ordinary people — a pairing that feels less like booking and more like recognition.
Juana Molina brings three decades of uncategorisable, loop-built sound to silent green's domed former crematorium — a room built for final departures hosting an artist who has made a career of refusing to stay in one place.
At Berliner Ringtheater, Palestinian-German artist Mudar Al-Khufash splits his audience into groups and hands them instructions to perform the mechanisms of erasure in real time — while a camera documents their complicity, turning spectatorship into evidence.
A quarter of a million African soldiers helped liberate Europe from Nazi occupation, and then Europe spent eighty years writing them out of the story — Haus der Kulturen der Welt now stages a sprawling, multigenerational exhibition inside a Cold War monument to the very freedom those soldiers were denied.
A ten-piece instrumental collective born on a São Paulo street named for the abolition of slavery brings fifteen years of wordless, politically charged Afrobeat-samba-funk to the vaulted former military stables of Gretchen, where the architecture might be the only thing capable of pushing all that brass back down to earth.