Rieke

A lady in a voluptuous Victorian gown sits on a garden bench lost in thought. As if eavesdropping on her own memory, peaking through the hedges, she revisits a scene between two lovers standing by a Christmas tree. Below them a peacock, whose closed feather train resembles the lady’s slumped dress, longingly observes them from the secret garden. Butterflies in the stomach have turned into a tapeworm. The past is gnawing at you, chewing at your mind. A bird has managed to escape, a child crawling on the floor reaches for it in vain, as if trying to catch the string of a balloon that has left its grasp. A concerned mother figure observes this scene. The feeling is of always being one second too late, one step behind. It’s about an amorphous sense of identity, a bird which would want to fly, imprisoned in the garden of memories, hiding its own beauty. Moving forward requires digesting these memories, before they eat you alive. 

Mausi, Berlin-Neukölln, 7.2.2026, 4PM.