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In recent decades, many states have undergone a radical turn toward conservatism, oppression, and fascism, with some countries enforcing these shifts through large-scale, destructive military actions. Amid these crises, contemporary art and academia—traditionally seen as spaces for critical inquiry and imagination—are increasingly marked by exclusion, hostility, and shaming. Influenced by global chaos and media-driven antagonism, institutions and individuals often engage in impulsive activism without considering its long-term effects. The responses from administrations and police to pro-Palestinian protests in universities across the Netherlands, Germany and the US further reveal that cultural and educational platforms are not immune to broader conservative shifts. A similar sense of frustration in such a state of affairs can be observed in the curatorial perspective. ‘I felt paralyzed by protest actions, both online and offline, that repeatedly asserted that silence equates to complicity,’ says Laura Mudde in her curatorial text. ‘I felt compelled to take a stand but also had to search for the right ways to do so.’

This internal feeling of discomfort prompted Mudde to create another layer of her exhibition in which she addresses the question: How can one promote nonviolence without perpetuating the very divisions created by violence? Inspired by Judith Butler, Laura Mudde claims that ‘the first act of violence is drawing boundaries that define a group as “the other”, separate from “us.” Even then, face-to-face encounters with “the other” often render these boundaries fluid.” It’s useful to continue this line of thought by understanding that this “fluidity” accompanied by constructed fear is often very masterfully used by political oppressors, for whom starting and sustaining wars is often the only way to stay in power. Bearing Witness highlights the urgent need to break the cycle of divisive violence and advocates for nonviolent action. By presenting cases of societal polarization that have led to war, as well as reparative practices for such traumas, this exhibition project fosters reflection on alternative paths toward healing and reconciliation.

In our conversation, Mudde mentioned that although the exhibition has two parts, she sees it as a single, coherent project. During the preparation, she worked simultaneously at both venues, each providing a specific context for the exhibition.

POST in Arnhem, which has established itself in recent years as a leading regional art institution, has recently relocated to Weverstraat 40 in the city centre (the former Space of De Groen Collection). The exhibition inaugurates the new space and signals a shift in institutional programming. Co-director Youri Appelo, who runs POST with Lieke Wouters, highlights its ambitious professionalization efforts to expand audiences and collaborations nationally and internationally. Plans include working with guest curators, launching an exchange program, dedicating an annual solo exhibition platform to regional artists, and adopting more sustainable practices. Bearing Witness aligns with some of their programming themes States of Violence, that critically examines global conflicts and everyday manifestations of violence between citizens and governments.

At Willem Twee Kunstruimte, Bearing Witness is part of the 2024-2025 theme Space for Resilience, exploring how art fosters mental and societal resilience in a world shaped by climate change, war, and polarization.

In both exhibitions, some artworks directly address the destructive trauma of war and its lasting effects, while others explore different forms of violence. What unites the works in Bearing Witness is the artists’ aspiration to engage in deep and sensitive research. They look for a way out of the imposed patterns of aggression by exploring the structure of violence and its inevitable aftermath. The exhibitions at both locations can be viewed independently or together, though several interconnected thematic threads make it particularly interesting to experience them as a whole. I’ll point at some works that in my opinion are particularly nuanced in exploring artistic language and emotional spectrum.

Inherited Memories

Several works within Bearing Witness offer a perspective on recent military history, focusing on Bosnia and Herzegovina by showcasing still unresolved social conflicts that were attempted to be resolved through warfare during the Bosnian War (1992-1995), highlighting the deep intergenerational traumas they leave behind. The video Colorless Green Freedom Sleeps Furiously (2023) by Miloš Trakilović presented at POST serves as a conduit of memory between him and his mother, who was 33 years old when she fled Bosnia to seek asylum in the Netherlands with two small children. I found it particularly intricate how the artist grapples with his distant and faded memories of the war while simultaneously struggling with a desire to gain a deeper understanding of his mother’s trauma. By taking the colour green and exploring its various symbolic and practical meanings in both nature and military contexts, Trakilovič in his video creates a specific model for a therapeutic experience based on technology and intimacy for those for whom peace has never existed.

The series of drawings by Elma Čavčič, Saved on Other Hard Disk. Memory Cannot be Found (2022-2025), exhibited at POST, depicts domestic scenes of a Bosnian home where her parents once lived—a place that was lost to some of them forever. Once a space of warmth and belonging, it bears traces of destruction from the Bosnian war. What moves me most is how Čavčič reconstructs these memories, not just through images but through the act of drawing itself. Her technique becomes a bridge between past and present, a way to carry forward the stories her parents shared with her. In a sense, she isn’t just documenting memory—she’s preserving it, piece by piece, in a way that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant.

Wounded Nature

Nature is both a silent witness and a victim of military and technological destruction. As I stand before the peaceful sand dunes under the vast blue German sky, as depicted in Nadine Hattom’s photographic series Two Unequal Winds (2023), I am struck by the contrasting stories these landscapes hold, which have witnessed military exercises where NATO soldiers trained for missions before being sent to the Middle East. Presented at POST for the first time, the artist expands this work by incorporating material traces of military infrastructure embedded in nature, transforming them into delicate glass sculptures. In No Word for Blue (2024), Hattom repurposes artillery fragments found in the dunes, first casting them and then turning in glass sculptures. To do so she uses an ancient Mesopotamian technique, bridging history, fragility, and the enduring imprint of warfare on the landscape.

Elena Khurtova and Anika Schwarzlose also investigate the material remains of violence in their multimedia installation Residue (2023-2024). It is based on the history and artifacts discovered at Hembrugterrein, a former weapon factory in Zaandam that operated from 1904 to 2003. The factory’s soil, which bears traces of weapon and ammunition manufacturing and requires remediation, is a key element of the work. The installation features several wooden boxes filled with soil and large textiles depicting historical objects and archival materials printed using soil chromatography.

Mila Panič’s semi-gastronomic work Strawberry Field (2018) requires extra effort to be found in the exhibition space, but it’s definitely worth the hunt. A jar of strawberry jam, symbolizing a sweet home and the fragility of peace, is placed high under the ceiling, only visible through binoculars (provided). The jam that stands on a shelf with a printed map is a simple but sharp artistic gesture which marks hidden and yet still dangerous remnants of war. The strawberries were collected from a recently cleared minefield in the artist’s hometown of Brčko, although many minefields in Bosnia remain uncleared.

Restorative Practices

Whereas some artists showcase the material and psychological scars of war, others exhibit forms of self-preservation, self-healing, and self-organization. Such as Stéphanie Saadé’s works The Encounter of the First and Last Particle of Dust (2020) and Building a Home with Time (2019), showcased at Willem Twee Kunstruimte. I’m struck with how the artist subtly yet indisputably engraves her deeply personal items into her works. Like the curtains from her childhood home in Lebanon and a long necklace resembling a wooden sculpture, each piece infused with personal memories. The necklace, consisting of 2,832 beads, corresponds to the days between Saadé’s birth and the official end of the Lebanese Civil War. Meanwhile, the 37 barely noticeable embroidered lines on the curtains trace the paths she walked across Lebanon, allowing her to physically reconnect with her homeland after the war.

For Vika Mitrichenko, ceramics symbolize resilience and provide a therapeutic refuge. In her mural series Amusing Pictures (2021) composed of glazed tiles at Willem Twee Kunstruimte, she blends scenes from her studio routine with random thoughts and dreams. Despite its comic-like style, the work carries a grim tone, as the brutal repression of the recent anti-government protests in her homeland, Belarus, lingers in her mind, evoking apathy, fear, and paranoia.

Bearing Witness raises timeless questions about war, morality, oppression of powers and personal traumas, inherited from both distant and recent military history and explored in various ways within European culture over the past centuries. However, the exhibition arrives at a moment when we are still shaken by the ongoing war in Ukraine, the radical outburst of the Israeli-Palestinian war and ongoing war in Syria, which makes it utterly timely.