MARTINA GENETTI: In light of the letter format’s ­current resurgence – particularly in the form of open letters and letters of solidarity – I’d be ­interested to hear what drew you to use this format for your video, and your thoughts on the possi­bility of understanding the letter as a statement or as a means of communicating when dialogue is no longer possible or wanted?

RABBYA NASEER: I’ve been using text in my work in various forms. The letter form is also something that has come from my practice – in particular, from a work called Undelivered Mail (2017 and 2019), which comprises very intimate letters written to an anonymous “Dear You.” Those were take-away letters; people visiting the exhibition could claim them and take them for free. I was also using this letter form in one of the four works proposed for the Belvedere exhibition. But unlike ­*Undelivered Mail* or my refusal video – that is, dinner party (my first museum solo) (2024) – the letter for the Belvedere exhibition was neither text on paper nor a video; it was meant to take a different form in relation to the space where it was going to be displayed. It was an attempt to speak with anonymous “Dear You(s)” about the abilities/inabilities of language to bridge the gap between the “I” and the “You” – the “self” and the “other.” Since this refusal video is intended to be a work, it couldn’t have been a conventional petition. And yes, this video letter is addressed to the Belvedere, but it’s been made public because it’s hoping to address other art institutions, curators, and fellow artists as well, to reflect on “our” roles in times like these, what “we” can do, collectively or independently. I’ve been thinking a lot about this “we.”

GENETTI: We won’t discuss the specific works you proposed to the Belvedere, especially since they haven’t been produced yet and still might be. So, without going into detail, could you briefly share what ideas or questions you were working with in preparation for the exhibition?

NASEER: As I write in my artist statement and as the jury for the Belvedere Art Award very accurately noted, my work is a response to my immediate surroundings, my experiences, and my encounters – and the structures that contain those experiences and encounters. So, the four works I had proposed for the exhibition, followed by several edits I offered to the Belvedere, were a response to my “immediate surroundings” – that is, the experience of watching a live-broadcasted genocide unfolding in the palms of our hands (i.e., on our phones) and the absurdity of having to carry on with everyday life despite that. In these works, I was looking at the structures that contain this experience. In summary, the works proposed for the exhibition were and are a contemplation on the functions and limits, or perhaps failures, of ­language, wondering what happens when words lose their meaning or when they start to mean their ­opposite. I was unpacking the concepts of the “self” and the “other,” looking at them in ­relation to each other, in order to explore the ­possibility of a temporal “we.” This is an ­interest that I explore in my practice in general and my current research in particular. In one of the ­performance videos, I was including texts by ­several authors (for example, John Berger, Arundhati Roy, James Baldwin, Omar El Akkad, Mahmoud Darwish, and Naomi Klein, among several others), blurring and maintaining the clear distinction between the author and “my-self,” to suggest that this “I” is not exactly an “I,” and this work is perhaps “our” (the author’s and my) attempt to reflect on “our” roles as witnesses, storytellers, artists, and, most importantly, ­fellow humans. This “we” also included friends who were conversation partners throughout this process of conceiving, refining, and editing this exhibition proposal – Ujjwal Kanishka in ­particular, a filmmaker who, in addition to his role as a conversation partner, was going to film two of the performance videos in this ­exhibition. This “we” also included dancers who were going to be part of one of the works. The idea was to turn this solo exhibition into a non-solo venture by including a long list of names: people in the company of whom I was putting together this exhibition. I was hoping that this frequent mention of the shifting borders between the “self” and “other” and between “I” and “we” in each work might enable the gallery visitors to think about their roles as well. This interest in the “we” is multilayered; I can go on and on about my reasons, but basically, I was using the same vocabulary and methodology that I use throughout my practice.

GENETTI: Within the conflict surrounding exhibition politics, disagreement often manifests through narratives and through the use of specific wordings. Given your artistic practice of working with language, I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the responsibility that comes with such a practice, particularly in terms of language’s ­potential to foster sensitivity or, conversely, to provoke polarization?

NASEER: Words, just like visuals, are symbols, so I’m interested in the semantic versus syntactic relationship of words within the realm of meaning-making. Even when I want to speak about something “particular,” my hope is to do so in a manner where the particular becomes non-particular so that it resonates with “you,” and “you” are able to connect with it via ­something that “you” yourself may have experienced, felt, or thought. So that’s perhaps the opposite of provoking polarization.Regarding disagreement, specifically with the Belvedere: Despite the facade of “freedom of expression,” I knew I had to wait for them to greenlight the ideas, and I wasn’t wrong, apparently, because they didn’t greenlight them. In fact, they rejected all of them. It was unclear what was allowed or not allowed, so for months I kept trying to find ways to say something as opposed to nothing. But there comes a point when you can see a clear distinction between being creative with censorship and being complicit, when ­cleverness starts to resemble obedience.

GENETTI: What you’re saying regarding the “­particular” also comes through in your video, in how it holds space for both clarity and ­ambiguity, for complexity. In terms of language, it stands in stark contrast to the discourse that followed the exhibition’s cancellation – at least as I perceived it – a discourse that often turns to polemic language and leaves little room for a relational or situational “I,” “you,” or “we.” While trying to understand what happened, I kept returning to the question: Where does language help to clarify – and where might it actually foreclose complexity? What role does language play in shaping how this specific event becomes part of a broader discourse around exhibition politics?

NASEER: I feel like within this whole ­polarization business, regardless of however much people want to be “non-binary,” this creation of ­categories and then enforcing people into those categories, is the actual problem. This strategy of putting people into boxes and organizing the world in this way is not new. Whoever wants to further polarize in order to serve their agenda will continue to do that. Polarization isn’t a side effect, perhaps; it is a strategy. It helps shut down any dialogue. Take, for example, the category “pro-Palestine” or how my proposal was “too pro-Palestine” for the Belvedere. How is critiquing colonialism “too pro-Palestine”? How is caring for human life “too pro-Palestine”? What does it mean to be “pro” or “anti” something? Does it mean that you are “for” or “against” anything and everything that entity does?

GENETTI: In a statement made available upon request, the Belvedere said it does not wish to “provide a platform for one-sided partisanship in a conflict that is multi-layered and multidimensional and whose discourses are interspersed with racist and anti-Semitic undertones.” I understood this not as a critique of your work but rather of the potential discourses that might arise around it. Given Austria’s very present problem with antisemitism, I see the concern that narratives are being misused to fuel antisemitism. Maybe we need to talk about those discourses?

NASEER: Perhaps what I’m trying to say is that there are no two sides. And that’s what I tried to do in my refusal letter. There are no “two sides” when you are standing up for human life and when you are criticizing the death ­machine. ­Antisemitism is being used as a tool to shut down any critique of colonialism, while actual ­antisemitism is going unchecked, which is a serious problem. As mentioned earlier, my aim, always, is to speak about things in a way that ­resonates with my audience. The desire is to touch them as opposed to just address them; even if I’m not always successful, that is the ­intention, which is the opposite of trying to offend or provoke my audience. So, of course, I was keeping the Austrian context in mind, and I was continuously editing my exhibition proposal – every time the Belvedere team rejected it, even when their reasons for rejecting it weren’t very convincing.

GENETTI: Given this situation, how do you see the possibility of exhibiting in the face of disagreement or even misunderstanding? Do you think it’s possible to imagine an exhibition format that doesn’t aim for consensus but instead makes space for dissent?

NASEER: So that’s what I kept asking myself every time I proposed a change or I removed a layer. But I told myself that I’m not comfortable ­making it so sterile that it becomes palatable for the museum and I become complicit in this censorship. I kept on trying to get to a point where we both, the museum and I, would be okay with it. But then after rejecting all my proposals, they said let’s not make new work, let’s show your ­existing work, which is all about mending, care, and ­community. But the irony is that when somebody is actually caring and making work about caring, we can’t have that. At the point where they said that nothing related to Palestine or the Middle East was possible, that is when I had to draw the line. My job is to make work. Even if it can’t be shown in a gallery or museum, I can still make it and exhibit it. In fact, the refusal video dinner party (my first museum solo) that was exhibited – as in, made public – on the internet probably had a wider international audience in comparison to the number of people who may have visited my exhibition at the Belvedere in Vienna.

MARTINA GENETTI: The cancellation of the exhibition is part of a series of events that may be interpreted and labeled in very different and partly even conflicting ways, but that ultimately all lead to a point where neither art nor its accompanying criticism, confrontation, or dialogue takes place. I perceive this as a situation of ­increasing reticence, and I wonder, How do you define the role and responsibility of your institution in this situation?

STELLA ROLLIG: I would not agree with you that this is a situation of reticence; on the contrary, I have never talked so much with my colleagues about any exhibition as I have about this one. In other cases, too, in which the directors of institutions in Germany were faced with or involved in the cancellation or non-realization of exhibitions, there were intensive discussions. That’s because we are in a situation that is rife with conflict, and with which we do not have much experience. It’s true that there is then always an exhibition, an artistic statement, or a speech that doesn’t take place in public – but at the same time, internally, there is a very intensive discourse about our role, our function, and our decisions.

GENETTI: The counterpoint to this nonpublic ­institutional discourse is the artist’s video work, which seeks to make something comprehensible using very unambiguous speech. Which possibilities does the institution have for revealing its internal considerations and thus doing more than remaining silent or positioning itself in a statement?

ROLLIG: The fact that we are sitting here together is a sign that we are not closing ourselves off from this discussion. We have a responsibility to the public, also in the sense that we do not make conflicts bigger than they are. We did consider a public discussion or an event, but we also saw that since October 2023, the conditions for such public discussions are so unfavorable that there is currently no calm, respectful negotiation of different stances. That is a central point: If we cannot solve this conflict with the artist, and the artist cannot solve it with us, I do not know whether it is ­productive to present it to a wider public.

GENETTI: I agree with you about publicity to the extent that the media, in particular, tend to take the discourse to extremes, which prevents dialogue. At the same time, in other public spaces, including academic and cultural studies spaces, there is a demand and a willingness to engage in dispute and to endure ambivalences. How do you see the possibility for such disputability in ­museum spaces?

ROLLIG: Our responsibility is to convey the content of our exhibitions to as diverse an audience as possible, to make it accessible, and also to create a safe space for everyone to engage with this ­content. In other spaces – for example, in the ­academic realm or in smaller art spaces or Kunstvereine – people can conduct dialogues, discussions, and communication in a more direct way. This is not possible for us in the everyday running of our museum. The fact alone that our institution has 350 people on its staff means, in my view, that our responsibility for the program includes protecting those staff from conflicts that they haven’t sought out, that they may not be able to conduct or that they do not want to get involved in. In principle, there is plenty of political content in the program of the Belvedere 21. But this particular topic – Israel, Palestine, and the current war – is an open wound, a tragedy that cannot be resolved with the possibilities and means of an art museum. In Austria, in particular, with its historical complicity in the Holocaust and in a state institution that addresses a very large number of people both from within Austria and from abroad, the topic cannot be negotiated one-sidedly. One-sidedness is what we rejected, and that is why the artist canceled the exhibition.

GENETTI: Regarding the criticism of one-sidedness, I wonder whether it’s at all possible to ask that a subjective, artistic practice be anything but one-sided. And furthermore: Shouldn’t the demand for multiple perspectives also be called into question, because it potentially ascribes political partisanship to an artistic work?

ROLLIG: The planned exhibition was to be read as a gesture of solidarity with Palestinians. We are horrified by what is happening in Gaza. It is terrible to see the inordinate number of ­civilian victims and the destruction of the basis for life in Gaza, but on October 7, 2023, Hamas attacked Israel, tortured, raped, and killed Jews, and burned down their houses. We know that Israeli hostages are still being held. How can the ­Belvedere publish a pro-Palestinian statement, even if only an artistic one, without referring to the suffering of the Jews? We cannot do that. Luckily, we were very much in agreement on this stance, internally. Perhaps we can also ask: Why is there a demand that art institutions should argue things out that are in no way solvable in “real life”? This is too much to ask of art institutions.

GENETTI: What role is played by the fact that the discourses around the conflict are “interspersed with racist and anti-Semitic undertones” as you write in your statement – that is, the ­possibility that within an artistic work, the proximity to particular terms, stances, or gestures of solidarity could be read as potentially antisemitic?

ROLLIG: We have never accused Rabbya Naseer of being antisemitic or of making antisemitic work, nor have we ever implied that. Our stance is that we in Austria have a particular ­responsibility ­toward Jews, and that people who visit the ­museum or even read about the exhibition feel hurt if we talk about the suffering of Palestinians but not about the suffering of Jews in the attacks by Hamas.

GENETTI: I do see a possibility of ­distinguishing there. But perhaps I have to ask a follow-up question in order to avoid possible misunderstandings: Does that mean, in your view, that independent of the aesthetics, poetics, strategy, or language of an artistic work, speaking about ­Palestinian topics is currently not possible?

ROLLIG: In the situation described, in its specific time, place, and institutional context, it was not possible.

GENETTI: I find that surprising. It also shows me how much dialogue is necessary to really unravel this situation and understand it. I understand the institutional dilemma. But given the ­situation in the cultural sector and the intellectual cul-de-sac in which we find ourselves, I also see it as a missed opportunity to make oneself ­vulnerable as well as to enter a debate and to allow the possibilities of a public process of learning. What are you taking with you from this situation?

ROLLIG: I maintain that this project, in this time and place – in this institution in Vienna, in ­Austria, in the year of its conception, 2024 – was not possible. Both sides missed, or did not take, the opportunity to listen to each other in a process of mediation and to understand each other’s reasons. Immediately after the cancellation, I think we parted with a great lack of understanding for each other. On my side, that is beginning to dissipate, and I think I can learn from this situation to address conflicts more directly and then negotiate in a structured way, perhaps with a third party to chair the discussion. That does not mean that we would have been able to realize the exhibition in this form; the arguments against it were too strong. But perhaps we would have been able to agree on a different solution – for ­example, realizing the exhibition at a later point or working together to make the conflict transparent. I believe that a better or deeper ­discussion would have been good, but neither side was prepared to engage in that. At the same time, one must also say that working with Rabbya Naseer presented a greater challenge than working on other exhibitions, insofar as her exhibition was planned on the basis of a decision by the Jury of the Belvedere Art Award, so we did not know each other beforehand. This approach is unusual; generally, artists are invited to exhibit because we, as curators, know their work well and have already familiarized ourselves with their practice before we begin to work together. This starting point created an additional obstacle for our conversations, and perhaps there were assumptions and projections at play on both sides.