Draussen von Bettina Khano. Window 79. Berlin-Weekly. (Courtesy: Berlin-Weekly).

Walking along the dark, dark streets of Berlin, especially in winter, when the light of the streetlamps is devoured by the darkness and the shops are already closed, you may suddenly be captured by a bright light in one of the windows.
What kind of message does it send outwards— is it some shining words? Or some naked model that you can draw? A huge person trying to fit into a small space? Or a mysterious greenhouse full of shades?  Or is it a micro-world of colorful chemical reactions that blew up to the galactic scale? Perhaps it’s a meteorite (almost real) that fell out of a painted post-apocalyptic amusement park?

It depends on Stefanie Seidl, the space’s owner, and the artists to whom she gives the possibility of building a little hermetic world in her Berlin-Weekly Projectraum at Linienstrasse 160, Berlin.

Berlin-Weekly was established in 2010. The gallery occupies a small space on Linienstrasse inside a former arch-topped driveway leading to the inner courtyard of a hundred-year-old building. The whole arch became a display window showcasing installations oriented to a street viewer and rarely inviting visitors inside. Exhibition openings take the form of a street party.

Linienstrasse itself is a cool historical address for a gallery in Berlin. Recently, Stefanie published a book, “100 Windows,” an edition that throws light on the gallery’s 15-year history.

Here is MishMash’s interview with Stephanie Seidl.

MishMash: Your space is mostly visible in the dark. The light is usually on at night. It is a kind of inversion of a traditional exhibiting space. Did you come to this concept intentionally, or did you adapt to this small space and its big arched window facing the street? What is the concept or programming of your space besides this inside-outside, day-night, light-darkness dichotomy?

Stephanie Seidl: First, there was the space, followed by the concept of how to utilize it: A shop window as a platform for art in public space. To address the unique situation of the space, which can only be viewed from the outside with a closed window, the displayed installations are always oriented towards the street to create a dialogue between the interior and exterior space. My goal was to provide artists with a stage in a public space where anyone passing by could experience the artwork in its entirety without needing to enter a gallery. This way, the exhibitions can reach a broad and diverse audience, some of whom would hardly ever visit a gallery.

In the Garden, Nicolaus List, Window 159, Berlin-Weekly. (Courtesy: Berlin-Weekly).

MM: Indeed, the exhibitions in your space are seen by everyone, willingly or unwillingly – both prepared viewers and those who are not. Your openings are not typical gallery openings, but the crowd in front of the window. What reactions have you observed? Do random people join the opening street parties? Are there any stories of connections with city dwellers?

SS: Most passersby stop in front of the window for a long time. Many take pictures of the installations and pick up an information card about the current exhibition. The audience consists of numerous passersby, people from the neighborhood, visitors to the surrounding galleries, and, of course, the recipients of the newsletter who visit the openings. Weather permitting, benches are set up in front of the window, and drinks are offered so visitors can have a direct view of the installation and discuss it.

It is very interesting to observe how the Berlin-Weekly shop window display also creates special conditions for its audience because while passers-by linger longer in front of the shop window, they expose themselves to unusual attention and experience themselves as “displayed,” which is clearly different from visiting a gallery or museum.

The curator and art theoretician Michael Fehr describes this in my book “100 Windows” as follows: “The act of viewing artistic work in galleries or museums is characterized by the fact that those who visit such institutions can feel at home in a community of more or less like-minded people, enabling them to be seen as part of an audience without fear of being conspicuous as a viewer. In public spaces, the act of viewing is legitimized as conventional behavior and not worthy of attention, in activities such as window-shopping, for example, when it is clearly determined by socially sanctioned consumer interests. When viewing an artistic installation in a glazed gateway, however, such legitimacy is not available, and there is a transgression of the expected viewing conventions so that the viewers now feel exposed to unaccustomed attention, experiencing themselves as ‘on display’, as deviant participants in this transgression. Those who pause in front of the gateway to look into the room find themselves in a critical situation. They are exposed to themselves as individuals, responsible for experiencing and legitimizing their actions for themselves and, in so doing, being obliged to recognize the conditionality of their own judgment: the fundamental aesthetic experience.

The unarguable fact of this experience is clear to see each time there is an opening night for a new installation at Berlin-Weekly. Passers-by, rushing past, notice the people gathering on the street in front of the gallery and no doubt ask themselves why, even though they are curious, they do not stop to see what the audience is looking at.”

Maps and Gaps, MishMash. Window 169, Berlin-Weekly. (Courtesy: Berlin-Weekly).

MM: You are one of the few gallerists in Berlin open to artists’ proposals, not just invitations. How many applications are coming in monthly? What are the selection criteria? How have they changed over the past 15 years?

SS: I get about 10-15 applications per month. Berlin-Weekly is primarily aimed at artists who work mainly sculpturally and in relation to the space. The curatorial program is interdisciplinary. Artists working with a variety of media can apply for an exhibition in the Berlin-Weekly window. However, since it almost always involves site-specific spatial installations, the focus is on artists working in installation art, particularly from sculpture and conceptual art, with few representatives from painting. Video artists, photographers, designers, scenographers, and set designers are also invited, as long as they work at the intersection of art and follow a conceptual approach. Through this, I aim to work across disciplines and explore the boundaries between these different fields.
The artists are given complete freedom in terms of content and form; the only framework is the space itself. This means that ideally, no pre-existing or finished work should be shown, but rather a spatial installation designed specifically for this high, enclosed showcase space.

Over the years, I have gained experience in how important it is for the artist’s proposal to be based on a clear conceptual foundation, which is visualized in such a convincing manner that it does not necessarily require a verbal explanation. Each window installation stands on its own – it should surprise passersby, prompting them to pause and reflect.

MM: Is it possible to identify some general mood, a line that unites all the exhibitions?

SS: No, not really. The common thread is actually that all the artists I approached found the challenge of developing a new idea for this small, precisely defined display window inspiring and exciting. This constant reinvention of such a small, defined space is what makes the project particularly thrilling.

MM: What do you think about the politicization of art that the Berlin art scene tends to lean towards?

SS: I see the politicization of art less in the artists themselves and more in the mediators, theorists, and institutions that are eager to ascribe political messages to artists or artworks, often valuing these messages more than the works themselves. The art world tends to categorize and polarize artists and their works of art, whereas political art is probably easier to evaluate because it serves a clear purpose.

It seems to me that politically motivated art projects are often considered more worthy of funding by art juries. This, in turn, can influence artistic production, as it means that artists may incorporate more references and research into current or historical political events into their work. Similarly, independent project spaces and initiatives could increasingly tailor their programs to socially relevant topics to secure funding.

Of course, politics and social criticism are essential, but ultimately, most art is political,  just not always in such an obvious way, but rather in subtle ways.

MM: What was the very first window?

SS: The first windows were more like actual display windows, and they really changed every week (hence the name Berlin-Weekly). However, instead of presenting a completely new installation each week, I placed a design object by a conceptual designer friend (Jerzey Seymour) in the first window. I added a new object every week and rearranged them differently. But after just a few weeks, the concept evolved into what it is today: monthly changing spatial installations by various artists.

MM: Are you only attached to your place, your Genius Loci, or do you also act outside of your place? Like art fairs or exhibitions?

SS: I am not a gallerist who attends art fairs. Berlin-Weekly is my project, where I can curate freely, independently of the demands of the art market, clients, or institutions. Perhaps I will curate in other places in the future, but only if the location is interesting and I am granted enough creative freedom. Otherwise, I would rather focus on my own artistic work again.

Casablanca, Stefanie Seidl. (Courtesy: Stefanie Seidl).

MM: Berlin and London were both capitals of contemporary art life in Europe during some historical periods. You lived in London for a long time, and you used to run a gallery there as well. How can you describe the difference between the art worlds and the core of art itself in these two cities?

SS: In the past, Berlin had a large supply of unused and undeveloped spaces, which offered enormous opportunities for creative, non-profit businesses. In London, every square meter is developed and prohibitively expensive. Additionally, Berlin has more funding opportunities for artists and artistic projects than London. I mainly refer to project spaces and small galleries, not the large international galleries. Unfortunately, both affordable spaces and funding have significantly decreased recently. But while London is very expensive, it also has a much wealthier audience, which makes it easier to sell.

Although Berlin’s art scene is large and diverse, it is still relatively manageable and well-connected. London is simply much bigger and more dispersed – there are so many districts with completely different scenes. However, perhaps it only seems that way to me because I have lived in Berlin for such a long time.

MM: In London, you specialized in design, and in Berlin, in art. How did your focus shift?

SS: I have always been interested in the intersections between different disciplines and try to explore their boundaries. Conceptual art and formalism are not mutually exclusive. Many designers work conceptually, while many visual artists take a formalist approach and reference architectural or design history. I don’t want to limit myself too much—I have also showcased installations by stage designers or architects, provided they work freely and conceptually rather than being purpose-bound.

Berlin, Stefanie Seidl. (Courtesy: Stefanie Seidl).

MM: You are not only a gallery owner but also an artist and photographer. Tell us about this aspect of your practice.

SS: I studied photography and later took a few semesters of visual communication. A large part of my photography focuses on space and its various stagings. Space appears as a portrait, as a condensed expression of a larger context. In my photo series on cities, I aim to capture the underlying mood of an era, a society, or certain characters through unusual perspectives and evocative details of urban life. Rather than focusing on specific events, I seek to reveal the poetry of the city, found in fleeting, fragmented moments. Although people sometimes appear in my photographs, it is often the city itself that takes center stage. The individuals remain anonymous, usually seen from behind or at a distance, allowing the urban environment to become the true protagonist. The distinctive features of these places can also be read metaphorically—as reflections of the human psyche. Ambitious construction projects, decay and renewal, abandoned squares, vibrant public spaces, wide boulevards, and narrow alleys all serve as a backdrop for exploring the individual’s place in the complexity of contemporary urban life. I also created videos and sometimes combined photographs into video pieces.

However, I always found it difficult to work alone as an artist—I much prefer collaborating with others. That was certainly one of the reasons I founded the project space Berlin-Weekly. But I didn’t expect the curatorial work to be so time-consuming. On top of that, I need to take on additional jobs to make a living, leaving me with little time for reflection and focus on my own artistic practice. After all, art requires inspiration and focus – it can’t just be squeezed in between other tasks. I have numerous projects that have been started and left lying around for a long time, as well as videos and photo series that are waiting to be taken up again, and I plan to weave them into an installation that combines text, photography, and video. But my first step will probably be to revive my own website, which was still made in Flash and has been lying idle for far too long.

MM: If photography is the art of capturing a single moment, then curating is the art of weaving them together. How has your relationship with time changed as you moved from one to the other?

SS: That’s an interesting question. Photography, curating, and collecting art have something in common: observing, discovering, and the small sense of achievement that arises when you find something worth capturing.

When photographing, one often develops a preference for certain motifs or themes that specifically guide one’s gaze. But sometimes, a compelling motif reveals itself unexpectedly – its interpretation comes later when it is integrated into the context of a project. It’s similar when curating or collecting. I look for artists whose work fits the Berlin-Weekly project and engages with the specific space. But often, I come across artists whose work fascinates me, even if they have not previously worked with installations. In such cases, we develop a way to present their work as an installation together.

The composition of a photograph is usually created in the moment of a glance, but often the photographs are also deliberately arranged and staged. Curating the Berlin-Weekly window installations is ultimately also a staging of the space. Despite these parallels, however, I increasingly miss both the kick of the direct creative process that arises during photography and even during post-processing, as well as the conceptualization and implementation of my artistic work. That’s why I want to devote myself to my own work again in the future. Of course, the exhibition format of Berlin-Weekly is also an artistic challenge for me as an artist and inspires me to create works for this space. I myself have only created two installations for the Berlin-Weekly window so far: “act to go” and “referring to.”

MM: Germany and Berlin were especially famous for their government’s support of art. It all started many years ago, back in the 70s, didn’t it? But now, there is a new major tendency to cut funding for art and culture. How is it going to affect you and your space? And the whole art scene in Berlin?

SS: The current budget cuts in the cultural sector are a severe blow to all non-commercial cultural institutions. When I started the Berlin-Weekly project 15 years ago, there was hardly any support for project spaces. To survive as a non-commercial gallery, we founded the “Network of Berlin Project Spaces and Initiatives,” and through years of continuous lobbying with the Berlin Senate, we were first able to secure a project space award and eventually two-year basic funding for project spaces. This was a great success and is unique in Germany. I do not know what will happen if this funding is discontinued from 2026 onwards. In that case, project spaces would have to operate more like commercial galleries. Still, it is precisely the non-market-oriented focus of the project initiatives that is important for reflecting the multifaceted nature of Berlin’s art scene.

MM: What would we see in Berlin weekly this spring and summer?

SS: First, in April, I will showcase artist Sebastian Klug, whose photo installation explores the recent history of this area by referencing the bars and clubs that spontaneously opened here after the reunification and disappeared just as quickly with the gentrification of the neighborhood. He will conclude his installation during the Gallery Weekend in early May with a group exhibition curated by him in the back room.

Antje Blumenstein’s installation in May/June directly engages with the Berlin-Weekly shop window space, playing with the interplay between interior and exterior spaces as well as reflections.

Silke Koch’s installation in July relates to the site’s GDR past, focusing on the architecture of the former East Germany.

MM: Sounds beckoning!