In the early morning of 1st October 1965, six Indonesian generals were captured and either immediately shot, or executed later. A seventh general escaped. Those responsible for the operation then took control of the radio station in Jakarta and announced that they, the “30th September movement”, had stopped a planned coup against President Sukarno. Sukarno had come to power as part of the anti-colonial struggle and enjoyed the support of the Communist Party, Islamist groups, and others.
Little-known right wing General Suharto appointed himself Supreme Army Commander on October 1st. Suharto’s vicious reaction was described by historian Vincent Bevins as: “the state-organized extermination of civilians who opposed the construction of capitalist authoritarian regimes loyal to the United States.” By March 1966, Suharto had taken control of Indonesia, imposing a CIA-backed military dictatorship. He would stay in charge until he himself was overthrown by a popular uprising in 1998.
Under Suharto’s rule, at least 500,000 people were killed (some claim that the real figure is nearer 1,500,000). One million leftists were sent to concentration camps, where many were tortured. A CIA report even went so far as to call the aftermath of October 1, “one of the worst mass murders of the 20th century.” The number killed was equivalent to those killed in Rwanda in 1994, but Indonesia received nowhere near the same media attention, even though in terms of population it was the fourth largest country in the world.
Suharto was backed to the hilt by Western governments who were bogged down in the Vietnam War and feared Communist expansion in the Global South. With 3 million members, the Indonesian Communist Party, the PKI, was the third largest in the world (after China and the Soviet Union) and Sukarno had been increasingly dependent on Chinese aid. The CIA provided Suharto with death lists. His assumption of power also paved the way for US companies like Goodyear to move to Indonesia and exploit prison labour.
Indonesia was a symbolically important country for the US to assert its authority. In 1955, a conference had taken place in Bandung in Indonesia for newly decolonised states trying to attain independence from both the US and the Soviet Union. Years later, in 1975, Suharto’s troops massacred over 100,000 people in East Timor. This October, as Indonesians take to the streets once more, the country’s history reminds us that their fight is not just against a corrupt government but also against murderous imperialism.
Siege of Fortress Europe
f.Lotta is repoliticizing the central Mediterranean and fighting for freedom of movement
Fortress Europe has never been so hostile to the freedom of movement. This has been illustrated by a recent case where the self-proclaimed Libyan coast guard delivered an unprecedented attack on an SOS Mediterranée vessel, directly targeting survivors and humanitarian workers in international waters.
Cases like this, however, are just the tip of the iceberg, with many other instances of detentions, boycotts of SAR (search and rescue) operations, and escalating violence towards people on the move and the people in their support. The current debate in politics and media is trying to mask the state violence of the racist and deadly border system by framing it as a humanitarian issue—which it is not. It’s a conscious political decision, and that’s why this time we go to the central Mediterranean not as humanitarian workers but in a political act.
In the system we live in, freedom of movement will never simply be granted to us—which is why we need to fight for it. And that is exactly what hundreds and thousands of people taught us 10 years ago in the summer of migration. Through direct action, they showed us in a grassroots movement how to defy borders. They showed us how to set fire to the racist and deadly system called an EU border. This is what we want to pay tribute to and get inspiration from. Some anniversaries should not go down in silence. The struggle for unconditional freedom of movement did not end in 2015; it continues today more urgently than ever—across the whole world and in the central Mediterranean Sea, the world’s deadliest migration route.
To resist the current status quo and to project a radically different political horizon, we will set off in a few days from Lampedusa with around 10 to 15 boats. We will sail 30 to 40 nautical miles southwest and form a solidarity chain to repoliticize the space that has become an open graveyard over the last years.
Each boat will be a flag-bearer of one campaign previously developed by a land group, connecting different local realities and struggles. They each have a different focus under the overarching message of freedom of movement, such as campaigns against the Libyan-Italian memorandum, for a free Palestine, against voluntary return programs, and the criminalization of those supporting people on the move. All campaigns can be found on our website.
Parallel to the main action south of Lampedusa, there will be protests all over Europe: f.Lottines. They will take place on land and sea and can take any form—a rally, an occupation, or a sit-in in front of the local deportation centre. For now, we have several protests in mid-September taking place in Italy, France, Cyprus, and Germany, such as in Berlin on the 13th of September. At around 4 pm, we will start from Lohmühleninsel and, after a quick stop at Oberbaumbrücke, we will go along the Landwehrkanal to spread f.Lotta’s message. There will be several pit-stops along the canalside, featuring brief interventions of our collectives. Currently, Chkoun, de:criminalize, WeSmellGas, Free Hanna solidarity group, FACQ, Klima4Palästina, and Abolish Frontex are involved. The groups carry the goals and demands of several interlinking causes, from Palestine in support of the Global Sumud Flotilla to decriminalization of migration and migration solidarity to freeing all antifas and more.
Our struggles for freedom of movement are one!
This decentralized organization helps us to amplify our message and connect our struggles all over Europe. Our message is: If Europe is building a fortress, then we will be there to put it under siege.
f.Lotta is spontaneous, horizontal, grassroots and self-organized. Our aim is to make Fortress Europe fall, as well as the ground it builds its walls on—racism, colonialism, capitalism, imperialism, and patriarchy.
Thoughts on a language of politics in the cultural sphere
When Berlin’s “Red-Black” (SPD/CDU) coalition government announced massive cuts in certain areas of cultural funding last winter (studio spaces, exhibition fees, art in urban spaces, diversity funds), I followed the protests of artistic interest groups like the Council of the Arts and the BBK (Berufsverband Bildender Künstler*innen) from afar, in Italy. Coincidentally, I was in Berlin when ver.di called for a large demonstration on February 22 against the Berlin Senate’s austerity policy (which affected not only the cultural sector, but also social services, education, and science). After the BBK had carried culture to its grave in front of the Red City Hall in December with a coffin (an astonishingly hackneyed symbolism), I now dreamed of a broad, democratic, intersectional manifestation of resistance. About 5,000 people gathered at the Neptune Fountain on Alexanderplatz, and a Palestine bloc was not allowed to participate. The language of the speakers made me depressed; it sounded like self-incantation: Berlin needs culture. Berlin is culture. Was/is that the language of fighters?
This alarm at the lack of language, or rather its helplessness, accompanied me in the following months. All the more so because this disproportionate attack on the cultural infrastructure was preceded by two years of “silencing” cultural institutions: not a word to/with/about Palestine in institutions that receive public funding. And everyone obeyed eagerly—even though neither the raison d’état nor the Bundestag’s BDSresolution have legal status. Was the silence of cultural institutions regarding state censorship of voices critical of Israel and Palestinian voices after October 7 a symptom of a lack of solidarity in the cultural sector, or was it the result? In any case, deep disappointment and bitterness set in. Nothing in Berlin’s cultural scene is the same as it was before October 7, 2023.
And then, a year later, there were massive 12% cuts to the public culture budget. The austerity policy will negatively affect the working conditions of tens of thousands of cultural and educational producers in the city in 2025, 2026, and 2027. As radical cuts to the culture budget are set to continue through 2026, sites like Berlinistkultur announce various network meetings, actions and dates. On December 20, 2024, BBK issued a statement following the House of Representatives’ decision to cut funding: “We will continue to fight for the professional interests of artists: we will remain in dialogue with the administration, politicians, and cooperation partners and work to ensure that all studios can remain in the program, that diversity and variety can be lived out, and that art in urban spaces is secured.”
It sounds as if there has been a temporary rift between long-standing partners. This is apparently what grassroots artistic representation sounds like after decades of a consensual “cultural nation” whose achievements were envied by many colleagues around the world. Who speaks from what position when (massive) conflicts arise between the state and a hyper-professionalized and institutionalized cultural scene? Who speaks to whom at a demonstration? Is it about defending the status quo or about the self-empowerment of cultural producers in a phase of conflict, of attack? Is it “only” about interests or the common political space? Who shows solidarity with whom? Apparently everyone with “Berlin”. Der Rat für die Künste (the Council for the Arts) shared an open letter against the funding cuts, along with a comment: “Berlin is the city of art and creativity. Let’s not allow it to lose its artistic soul and future”—but is Berlin a label, a bubble, or the sum total of social conditions?
The structural situation of artists in Italy cannot be compared to that in Germany. State infrastructure has never become as broad and far-reaching here, contemporary artists receive little support, and independent projects are often dependent on a system of public competitions, alongside commercial operations and corresponding networks. For three years, the Meloni government has been intervening massively in the work of institutions and public media through personnel policy, placing post-fascist associates (some from the “Youth Front” of what was the fascist Movimento Sociale Italiano party) in the management of museums, theaters, biennials, juries, etc. After the election in fall 2022, the “left-wing” cultural scene was immediately targeted, which was to be disciplined, purged, and standardized in terms of identity (God, family, fatherland). The state-owned public broadcaster RAI was brought into line with “Telemeloni”.
Below the government level, the politics “from above,” however, there is a network “from below” in Italy that can be activated again and again and is writing its own unofficial history: from the partisan movement against fascism in 1943-45 to the traditional nationwide network of Case del Popolo, the activists of the Centri Sociali in the 1990s, local grassroots unions fighting for migrant workers, and ecological initiatives. Solidarity with the disregarded rights of the Palestinian people and opposition to Israeli genocide are loudly manifested in all villages and cities, and in voluntary initiatives from all sectors. In the political arena, this energy of resistance never finds institutional forms, remaining extra-parliamentary. At the grassroots level, however, the sparks of autonomous resistance continue to fly latently and intersectionally.
The most prominent example is the collective of the former GKN factory in Campi Bisenzio, which has been occupying the former auto parts factory for four years to protest job losses and demand a self-determined ecological conversion of production. From the first day of the occupation, neighbors and colleagues from other companies showed solidarity with the strikers. Agricultural collectives brought food, and—in the opposite direction—the collective sought national and international alliances with Fridays for Future, local youth initiatives, flash mobs for Palestine, migrants in the neighboring textile industry in Prato, and other groups. They issue public shares to finance an alternative cooperative, organize an annual festival of workers’ literature, and have a combative, radical, solidarity-based language, trained by the tradition of the metalworkers’ union.
“Vogliamo tutt’altro” (We want everything different)—under this slogan, resistance flared up in Rome at the beginning of this year against another identitarian personnel decision by the Meloni government for the general management of Rome’s theaters. An open letter from the movement declares: “We are artists, workers, and employees in the theater sector. We are mobilizing to denounce the poor state of our country’s cultural institutions and the gravity of the events of recent months: public offices filled through maneuvers bordering on illegality, riot police guarding public theaters, an inconsistent and incompetent city administration in Rome, structural job insecurity, and a lack of places dedicated to research and artistic production.” An Instagram page and a blog were immediately set up to communicate all demands, protocols, and actions (e.g., online meetings with thousands of participants).
In early summer, the next disaster struck: the partially reappointed jury of the national competition for the spettacolo/danza sector, an essential source of funding for many independent groups in the country, announced its decisions: the ratings of numerous renowned performance groups and festivals had suddenly fallen below the required score. The evaluation criteria had been changed, and contemporaneity and artistic risk were suddenly no longer decisive criteria. Many groups across the country are facing closure. Actors from the field of lavoratori della spettacolo (theater workers) expressed frustration with changes to their working conditions, with one person stating that “we are currently experiencing a violent delegitimization of art.” On July 21, a meeting was held in 16 cities across Italy. Here are some short excerpts from the extensive minutes:
“We are angry, toxic, and furious, and we want this anger to be translated into political action.”
“We have all been excluded since our training; there is a problem of structural elitism in our world—it is not just a question of fascists in government, but a classist and racist system that has grown over decades.”
And declared actions:
“Strengthen the power of dissent and continue to imagine another world.”
“Organize study and self-education groups.”
“Be intersectional, connect struggles with each other.”
“Open up a supranational level: In Europe, these issues are already being considered, especially the connection between armament and cuts in public spending; create connections.”
A first national assembly took place in Rome on September 8.
I am not comparing the actions and rhetoric in Rome and Berlin in order to idealize one side over the other, but rather to learn from them. Why are cultural workers in Berlin, Cologne, Munich, and Dresden isolating themselves from one another, even though they are all affected by the same political strategy of cutting funding for the cultural sector? Why are there no intersectional actions and solidarity movements in Germany with those affected in the social and education sectors? Why do demands focus only on their own field, without including parallel developments—right-wing violence in the Berlin area, ecological rollback, militarization, “culture war”—in their arguments?
Why does the cultural scene ignore social antagonism in order to (futilely) preserve the status quo? Why is there no political language that reflects society, the common good, and possible alliances? Why is there never any talk of “work”?
According to Hannah Arendt, power is not that of the rulers, but the ability to communicate collectively and agree on collective action. It is the potential for the public shaping of the community, i.e., the political. Political responsibility is not a moral obligation, but an existential necessity that arises from participation in the political sphere. The public sphere is the space for discussion, debate, and decision-making. The public sphere is a space of conflict.
In her reflections on infrastructural critique, Marina Vishmidt speaks of the “conditions of possibility” within and beyond the artistic field, of the necessity of transforming self-sufficient cultural logic into antagonistic logic and of engaging with the space of social struggles and the world of work, i.e., of developing a materialist theory of the “conditions of possibility.”
Daniel Baker, artist, curator, and art theorist of the GRT (Gypsy, Roma, Traveller) community, said years ago in a conversation that the idea of art as a tool of everyday life “is less about art and design as a way of improving life and more about a way of living, in which creative practice is integral—a bottom up process rather than top down”. He continued that “the idea of a closer alliance between the practices of art and of living has implications too in terms of the reclamation of art from the privileged arena of the museum and the art world where emphasis is placed upon market interests and hierarchies of knowledge—the segregation of intellectual, cultural and financial capital”.
The art “bubble” is part of the infrastructure of platform capitalism, as is the flexible personality of artists, their suitability as soft ambassadors of politics in neoliberal times.
In order to be able to think and speak politically again, we need collective self-empowerment, a different understanding of power, that of the collective sovereign, not that of the dependent.
The Last Chance
Why we are marching at the Palestine demo on 27 September
After two years of genocide in Palestine, the official discourse begins to crack. Between the truth in the mainstream media and institutions in Germany and the political and economic practices of the so-called ‘democratic’ state, there is now an intolerable gap. A gap between the civilising narrative of Western human rights and the reality of Gaza, the West Bank and the wider Middle East region. We know the pictures. We know the figures. We know those who send the weapons, who design the drones and who open fire on hungry children, executing them as they search for water and food. There is no doubt about what reality is.
The opportunistic shift of the narrative to a ‘humanitarian crisis’ stems from the need of colonisers’ societies to maintain their moral superiority over peripheral countries. But behind this lie the most terrible crimes against humanity. Now they need to calm public opinion from “the North”, to reset the Western ‘civilising’ discourse. Right-thinking citizens and elites can wash their hands of guilt while continuing to benefit from genocide and supremacist domination. However, the cloak of complicity is beginning to fall away.
The root cause of every genocide lies in the voracious pursuit of profit and control over a territory’s resources. The genocide of our generation is driven by the agreement between Western governments and the arms industry.
Katherina Reiche of the Federal Ministry for Economic Affairs and Climate Protection (Bundesministerium für Wirtschaft und Klimaschutz – BMWK), claims the arms industry is not only a matter of national security policy, but also a window of opportunity for the economy and innovation. Both show a total decline in Western values. Today, Germany is the second largest exporter of arms to Israel after the United States.
The proposed solution to the crisis in Europe’s economic model is to transform car factories into arms factories. Thus, the “Keynesianism of war” establishes itself as the economic model to follow. Economic and political leaders know how to produce nothing but death in pursuit of their interests.
Death is financed with our taxes, through cuts in social benefits and social and cultural infrastructure, all to ensure the exorbitant profits of the global bourgeoisie. Including Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, billionaire of MAGA, to Moritz Döpfner, son of media entrepreneur Axel Springer, to name but a few.
All this shows that the protection of the Jewish people has nothing to do with the current situation, but with the greed of the bourgeoisie. Germany has a historical responsibility to the Jewish people – Just as it does to the Herero and Nama peoples, the Slavic peoples, the Roma and Sinti, the LGTBIQ+ community and the countless socialists and communists, political opponents murdered by this state in concentration camps and in gas chambers. Just as it now has to the Palestinian people.
Our role as the popular Left
In October 2024, as Bloque Latinoamericano, we spoke out about the need to create new fronts. These must engage broader sectors of society to break the media siege surrounding the genocide and normalised repression of the Palestinian and migrant communities. We also called for the transformation of social and labour spaces into places of dispute.
We therefore welcome the alliance and joint mobilisation within the framework of ‘Zusammen für Gaza’ on 27 September 2025. This call offers a tool to transform more spaces into territories of dispute such as our work, our football club, our family gatherings, etc. Specifically, we call on everyone to spread the word about this call, to discuss and promote mobilisation in the different spaces we inhabit.
Since October 2023, the massacre in Palestine has led hundreds of thousands of people to become interested in politics and criticise the status quo. For the younger generations, their introduction to politics is closely linked to Palestinian liberation.
That is why we from the Left must do ensure that this crisis of Western common sense makes way to a heroic and revolutionary stage of creation, where genocide is not part of the elite’s arsenal of options.
We also know, as a revolutionary political organisation, that the opportunistic political shift of some does not aim at the complete liberation of Palestine and its people, nor at their inalienable right to return to their land. That is why we demand that full solidarity during the march with the people who are repressed: the Palestinian communities from here and everywhere.
You, elected politicians, do not represent the will of the migrants living here, and with each passing day you lose the support of the popular majority. Each one of you, by voting and signing to send one more single weapon, one more piece of ammunition, one more tank, is a war criminal, an accomplice to genocide, and will be condemned in one way or another. We will not forget.
Those who do not take now to the streets to denounce the genocide will go down in history as accomplices. You cannot ethically distance yourself from those who “did not know” where the full trains were going; to and had not asked themselves what was burning in the steppes of the USSR. Western moral superiority is not only a weapon of colonisers and oppressors, but also an excuse for not facing reality. Those who do not fight do not feel their chains.
Enough with neutrality, we must end the immobility and fear of raising our voices. There is no such thing as fair colonisation, there is no right to massacre and starve a people. There is no forgiveness for slavery, plunder, dispossession, genocide, imperialist war, nor for the destruction of the social system to finance the industry of death and private property for the 1% of the world.
As long as there is no justice for the Palestinian people, there will be popular struggle and resistance.
When Palestine is free, we all will be freer.
This is a translation of an article in Spanish from The Bloque Latinoamericano website. A German version of the article is also available. Translation: Ana Ferreira. Reproduced with permission.
“If we hadn’t been there, they all would have died, and nobody would have even known”
Interview with photographer Lucas Maier, about his exhibition “People don’t let People drown”
Yes, I do. It’s about Sea Punk 1, which is a sea rescue vessel in the Mediterranean. I was with the crew in January this year.
How did you get involved with the Sea Punk 1?
I wrote them a message because I had some free time. I was taking some months off work, and I asked them if it’s possible to help them with their media.
Let’s talk about the subjects of your photographs – the refugees crossing the Mediterranean. There’s been a lot of media discussion of refugees being a problem, a burden, or people coming here trying to disrupt our country. Who are the people and why are they on the little boat in the middle of the Mediterranean?
It’s not one kind of people. It’s super diverse. I think the youngest person I’ve seen was younger than one year, the oldest was most probably over 80. They were also really mixed between women and men.
What they have in common is that they live in shitty situations, and want to have a better life, a free life. If they come from certain countries, they have no other option than to go over the Mediterranean with a fucking rubber boat or something. It’s the only choice they have.
A lot of the people in your photos were coming from Libya. How did they get to Libya in the first place?
Super different. Some told us that they walked there from African countries where there is a land connection. Others were, for example, from Pakistan. A lot of people also go to Tunisia nowadays because it’s less dangerous, with fewer chances of being thrown into prison.
Once they’re finally on the Mediterranean, what are the problems that they encounter there?
There are a lot of different problems. First of all, they have no captain on the boat. It’s just random people who are forced to drive. If you don’t know how to drive a boat in the middle of a big ocean, it’s not the best situation. You have no navigation system at all, because mobile phones do not work out at sea, and most of them are in a plastic case, so you can’t use them.
They’re left to navigate using the sun and the stars. And this is super dangerous, because it can extend your journey by days or weeks, and it is high likely that you would run out of gasoline. If that does happen, you have no power to fight the waves anymore, which makes it highly likely that your boat will capsize. And if the waves get too high, these unseaworthy boats will just capsize.
Then you have double decker boats, where people are trapped inside, and some of them die because there’s not enough oxygen, or due to fumes from the motors. Some get fuel burns because when you mix sea water with gasoline it becomes highly toxic, and results in really bad burns.
Then they reach Europe. I guess, theoretically they could land in different countries. Is there a difference between the way they’re treated in each country?
I mostly encountered people going to Italy and Malta. I think it depends a lot on whether you’re out in the Mediterranean, and if you’re able to leave the Libyan SAR Zone. If the Libyans pull you back, you have to go through the fucked up situation from the beginning again – and encounter even worse hardships.
Italy has, for example, the Piantedosi decree from the fascist Meloni, which overrules international sea law and says that they can decide where you should bring people saved by sea rescue. Back in the day, it was normal to go to the next port, because it makes sense to go to the next safe place. But nowadays, it takes days to bring people onshore, with legislation instated just to block the NGOs from what they are doing.
Speaking of NGO,which NGOs were you working with?
Sea Punks is a smaller NGO with a smaller vessel, compared to Sea Watch or Ocean Viking. I think the boat is a total 32 meters, and can carry up to 14 crew members and can take up to around 40 people at maximum capacity.
The boat is mostly made for accommodation or assisting situations. Because it’s so small, it’s not that easy to carry people. So if it encounters a boat which is not sea worthy, people on the Sea Punk can speak to them and give them proper life jackets. And if a boat runs out of gasoline, they organize help from Italy or Malta so that the boat doesn’t capsize and get to Charlie Papa.
Are they able to do this without being impeded by the Italian or Maltese governments?
Yes. You need to have a lot of law stuff in mind and in focus. That’s why you also get trained at the beginning. Every step is done legally, 100% correctly. Until now, there have been no bigger problems with the state. There has been no detention yet. Let’s see what the future brings.
Let’s move onto your work as a photographer. What difference do you think an exhibition like this can make?
I think it can bring the situation to the people. Especially in Central Europe, it’s far, far away – not only in distance, but also in people’s mindset. Most people here can’t imagine how it is to stay for days on such a boat and nearly die.
For the people who died while I was there, it’s the only way to show that they died and that this is happening. If we hadn’t been there, they all would have died, and nobody would have even known. It’s such a huge sea, and if you don’t find the boat, it’s just gone.
The exhibition currently is in the Regenbogen Café, where most people are at least aware of refugees and are generally on their side. How can you get across to a wider audience of people who are either not aware of refugees or are aware and don’t want them?
This is the first time I showed this exhibition, and it’s a nice environment to have it in. But of course, in the future, I also want to go to places which are more conservative, encounter people without an explicitly leftist mindset. Maybe at a church or similar. I want it to lead to discussions which are outside the box.
Do you think you’ve got hope of getting venues like this?
Actually, I know some people in person. After a quick chat with them, I think it could be managed. It’s not that hard for me to find other places.
If someone goes to the exhibition and thinks “This is terrible, I should do something,” what should they do?
First of all, they should speak about it. In Germany, we have a really strong rise of the right wing. It is becoming more normal in society to say: “It’s ok that they are dying. It’s just refugees.” And that’s not okay.
Of course, it’s always good to support NGOs with money or with volunteer work if you can. Sometimes it just takes little steps to change the world a little bit more.
What about the people who say: “They’re having a bad time, but Germans are having a bad time as well. Germans are losing the jobs. Germans are poor.” Why should people worry about refugees?
Firstly, there’s a difference between losing your job and losing your life. We had one family who lost all three of their children in one day. Losing your job is nothing compared to that. I think it says a lot about white privilege to think that way.
If you have faced situations like that, it can help you deal with your own problems at home, because you come to appreciate that there are people who have a much harder life than you and have problems that threaten their survival. Of course, losing a job is not the best situation, but it’s also not the worst.
Part of what you’re doing is talking to people with terrible experiences. Of course, it’s worse for them than it is for you. But how do you sustain yourself in terms of just viewing all this misery?
Before I got there, I prepared for the worst case scenarios – if it comes to difficult situations, I always prepare like that. It helped me a lot. Beside that, it was good to have the support of the crew. We helped each other, and talked to each other. We also had two days of psychological support at the end.
How does someone become a crew member for something like this?
There is a form on the website. There are different positions on board. For some, you need to be sea worthy with certificates. For others, you don’t. As a media person, I just wrote a message to them and said: “Here’s my CV. You can check if it fits what you need.” Then they called me back and invited me.
The vessel is not always at sea. There is a lot of time spent in port. And people can help with maintaining the boat. A large part of the work is maintaining the boat so that it’s still seaworthy.
What are your next plans? How can you make your photos available to a wider audience?
My next step is to put the exhibition online. I got a lot of messages from people saying that they’d like to see the photos but it’s not possible for them to come to Berlin.
Do you have a chance of showing in other cities?
Yeah. I’m in talks with one place in Potsdam, and maybe also in my home town in Bavaria.
One last question for the Berliners. How long is the exhibition going on? Where can they see it? And when?
It’s at the Regenbogen Café, next to the Regenbogenfabrik in Kreuzberg. It is on until the last weekend of September, during the normal opening hours, which are on their website.
If people want to support you personally, how can they contact you?
My contact is written at the exhibition, so they can just contact me. But at the moment, I don’t need that much support. At the moment, people should really be supporting the people who are drowning in the Mediterranean.
All photos: Lucas Maier. These are just part of the exhibition which you can see until September 27th in the Regebogenfabrik Café, Lausitzerstraße 22a, The café is open on Tuesdays from 12:00 – 18:00, and Wednesday and Fridays from 15:00 – 22:00
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