Goshka Macuga, Born From Stone, 2024. Photo: Jason Alden.
Interview

Knitting together the past and the present. In conversation with Goshka Macuga.

Discussing her recent exhibition, Goshka Macuga delves deeper into her expansive range of projects, influences, and methods of working. As a Warsaw-born, London-based interdisciplinary artist, Macuga (b. 1967) blurs the borders of curator, researcher, and collaborator, creating projects in which the past and present intersect. Nominated for the Turner Prize in 2008, her practice revolves around retelling ancient stories in a modern way, drinking from the well of mythology and old fables to make sense of the present cultural and political landscape. Site and location are the genesis for her works, which reference social-political movements and ideologies, drawing connections across time. The site of an ancient Roman temple in central London was the starting point for her second BLOOMBERG commission, Born From Stone, on display at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE until 18 January 2025. 

Goshka Macuga, Born From Stone, 2024. Photo: Jason Alden.
Goshka Macuga, Born From Stone, 2024. Photo: Jason Alden.

Maggie Kuzan: For your current project, Born From Stone (2024), you have carefully selected works on loan from the Imperial War Museums to curate a modern retelling of the ancient Roman myth of Mithras. What factors, concerns or questions circulate in your mind when ongoing the selection process for a new project?

Goshka Macuga: In approaching any new project, the first factor I consider is its context. This involves examining the function, history, or collection of the institution hosting the commission or exhibition. For Born From Stone, a site-specific installation at the London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, I engaged deeply with the site’s unique historical layers. I aimed to construct an exhibition that not only addressed these complexities but also hinted at current global political issues. These references are intentionally symbolic, encouraging viewers to form their own connections rather than providing direct interpretations. As such, the paintings I selected, on loan from the Imperial War Museums, depict scenes of fire and explosions from WW2, resonating with contemporary conflicts often seen in the news. By layering these powerful images with Mithraic symbolism, I wanted to create a space where the past and present intersect, offering viewers multiple layers of meaning to explore.

‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith

M.K.: Undoubtedly, the discovery of this ancient Roman temple of Mithras below Bloomberg’s European headquarters in London’s financial City district makes for a dissonant pairing. To what extent did themes of art, wealth, power, and capital arise when working on Born From Stone? Which trajectories were you interested in exploring and digging up for a modern audience?

G.M.: The discovery of the ancient Roman temple amidst London’s financial district creates an intriguing juxtaposition. The iconography surrounding Mithras, his birth from stone, the bull-slaying ritual, and his banquet with Sol, the sun god, presents rich allegorical material. Notably, the bull can symbolise stock market growth, with the bull’s sacrifice potentially interpreted as a counterpoint to the usual optimism associated with financial markets. This juxtaposition enriches the exhibition’s layered meanings, linking it to the Mithraeum’s setting within the Bloomberg Building. In some depictions, Mithras emerges from stone as a youth wielding a dagger and torch or sometimes holding a globe alongside a thunderbolt. Flames burst from both the rock and his cap, underscoring themes of sacrifice and violence. This vivid imagery of Mithras slaying the bull also invites reflection on humanity’s environmental impact and the ecological crisis we are facing today.

‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith

M.K.: Beyond Mithras, legends, tales and stories particularly call to you at present. Are there any recurring motifs or themes persisting in your works?

G.M.: I’m drawn to legends and motifs that hold a deeper enduring resonance particularly the cave or rock as a symbol of origin and creation. The cave is a recurring motif within the myth of Mithras, representing the sacred birthplace and the beginning of his journey. But this fascination with caves extends far beyond Mithraism. Across human history, caves have served as sites of profound significance, from the prehistoric paintings at Lascaux – where early humans recorded their connection to the world – to modern imaginings of caves as shelters in post-apocalyptic visions. Caves embody themes of creation, survival, and the origins of human expression. This philosophical depth is also captured in Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, which serves as a metaphor for the journey from ignorance to knowledge. In this allegory, the cave symbolises a constrained perspective, while the act of emerging represents enlightenment and a broader understanding of reality. This notion of the cave as both a literal and metaphorical space resonates strongly in my work, as it reflects humanity’s search for truth and the deeper layers of existence.

In my own artistic practice, the cave motif has appeared in various forms. My initial exploration of this idea was in 1999 when I created a cave-like installation from crumpled brown paper for an artist-run space called Sali Gia. This work marked an important milestone in my artistic practice, allowing me to experiment with material, form, and space in a collaborative setting. The installation served as a foundational piece, establishing a method of working that I have refined over the years. In Hollow Earth: Art Caves & The Subterranean Imaginary (2022–2023), I revisited the “Cave” installation, reimagining it as a testament to the experimental spirit of London’s artist-run spaces in the late 90s. These spaces were instrumental in my artistic journey, providing a platform for exploration beyond institutional or commercial constraints. Recreating the cave for this exhibition was not just about revisiting a past work, but also about honouring the formative influence of these environments on my practice.

What captivates me about caves and underground spaces is their ability to encompass both physical and metaphysical dimensions. They are spaces of concealment and revelation, of darkness and light, of safety and danger. Caves blur the lines between inner and outer worlds, inviting a deeper exploration of themes of creation, transformation, and human experience.

‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith

“What captivates me about caves and underground spaces is their ability to encompass both physical and metaphysical dimensions. They are spaces of concealment and revelation, of darkness and light, of safety and danger.”
— Goshka Macuga

M.K.: You mention how your first cave installation also enabled you to work in a collaborative environment. You are not only an artist but also a curator, positioning yourself in relation to other artworks in your installations. Your curatorial decision to include works by your friends, artists Keith Tyson and Dexter Dalwood, within Cave (1999) reveals the relational aspect of art, enabling a multitude of readings and perspectives. How much does this relationality inform your planning and pre-production stage of a project, as well as its subsequent development?

G.M.: Through these experimental installations, incorporating other artists’ works, I began to develop a communal approach to art, a spirit of collective authorship that extended beyond my own creations. Initially, this community spirit was centred around close connections I formed during my education at Goldsmiths and the network that continued to grow after 1998. My inspirations at the time were drawn from works by Duchamp, El Lissitzky, and Kurt Schwitters as well as from artist groups like Unit 1 or a Polish group called Rebellion. While these practices aren’t often labelled as curatorial, I was intrigued by how the art world began to classify my work in this way, even though I initially saw it as an extension of artistic collaboration.

Collaboration has been integral to my practice, spanning both past and current projects. After completing my MA at Goldsmiths in 1996, I became part of a generation that curated its own exhibitions and established artist-run spaces. My approach to art remains deeply connected to the theatre. We were self-sufficient, simultaneously acting as artists, curators, critics, and our own audience. Although we aspired to gain broader exposure, in hindsight, we were in an ideal place, nurtured by a community that was less shaped by academic instruction and more by the collective we formed. In my early house exhibitions, Show Me the Money, I followed a model of collaboration where one show would lead to the next, with each participant inviting new contributors. I was fascinated by how a domestic environment influenced the artworks it housed, how each piece fit into its surroundings, and how the space encouraged a collective reading of the work. I analysed these dynamics carefully and made a conscious decision to adopt this strategy creating contexts, letting the space and other elements inform each piece’s interpretation. I also began integrating my own artwork into larger environments, borrowing objects and artworks from others. These early projects were ambitious, yet carried out on modest budgets.

The projects I worked on from the late 90s through 2000, like Show me the Money, Cave, and Mountain and the Valley, continue to shape my current approach. Artist collectives like Bank, which not only curated their own shows but also published their art magazines and wrote criticism, were particularly influential. Their model of running their own art world remains inspiring. Around this time, it began to see a rise in curating courses, starting at RCA and eventually spreading globally. As more artists and curators began to examine their identities, the practice of categorising artists, curators, and collectors also gained traction. My practice, which often included the works of other artists, became increasingly labelled in these curatorial terms.

But reflecting on art history particularly works by Duchamp (Mile of String for First Papers of Surrealism in 1942, or Twelve Hundred Coal Bags in 1938) and El Lissitzky (Kabinette der Abstrakten for Alexander Dorner’s Atmosphere Room in 1927), I see my work as part of a long-standing tradition rather than as something entirely novel. The relationality and collaborative elements in my work are rooted in this lineage, and while it may surprise some that these aspects are now classified as curatorial, I consider them intrinsic to the broader history of art rather than solely as curatorial innovation.

I see my work as part of a long-standing tradition rather than as something entirely novel.
— Goshka Macuga

‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith

M.K.: You question deeply entrenched social concepts and movements in your works – communism, fascism, modernism, and futurism all arise in The Nature of the Beast (2009) or the International Institute of Intellectual Cooperation (2019). Which concepts do you keep returning to and why?

G.M.: Many of the concepts I engaged with in past projects continue to resonate powerfully today, reflecting issues that remain deeply relevant. For instance, in my work with the International Institute of Intellectual Cooperation (IIIC), I explored the disillusionment surrounding figures like Einstein who, disheartened, distanced themselves from political leadership in the post-war era. This sense of disillusionment feels particularly pertinent now, as we face new wars and modern political figures (like Donald Trump) whose rhetoric and policies threaten not only national stability but global safety. Bodies like the United Nations were originally established to mediate conflicts and prevent atrocities. Today, however, their influence over unlawful invasions, human rights abuses, and widespread violence appears disturbingly limited. The persistent ineffectiveness of these organisations speaks to a larger erosion of international order, echoing the failures of past eras.

In works like The Nature of the Beast, I juxtapose these contemporary fails with historical social movements and ideologies, such as communism, fascism, or modernism, which sought to reimagine society in ways both constructive and destructive. By revisiting the aspirations and missteps of these movements, I aim to draw attention to the cyclical nature of our political struggles and how these ideologies continue to inform and haunt the present. Returning to these social movements and ideological conflicts is, for me, a way of seeking clarity amid today’s chaos. By examining the historical contexts that gave rise to these ideologies, I hope to create a dialogue that not only critiques our current moment but also searches for constructive paths forward.

Ultimately, these projects in a way were my attempt to confront the dissonance between our ideals and our realities and to question if we can break free from repeating the same errors, or if we are destined to re-enact the same cycles of turmoil.

‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith
‘Goshka Macuga: Born From Stone’ at London Mithraeum Bloomberg SPACE, Installation view, © Marcus Leith

M.K.: Your bricolage curatorial approach of combining artworks from different historical periods reveals that history not only repeats itself, but is in a constant state of flux – a volatile, chance process, and not a linear trajectory. We have to look no further than at the chaotic disorder of events, which unfolded before our eyes in the lead-up to the recent U.S. General Elections. The scandal surrounding the covering up of the Rockefeller Tapestry of Guernica before the invasion of Iraq in 2003, which you explored in your installation at the Whitechapel Gallery (2009), springs to mind during times of political controversy, hysteria, and fear. Are there any installations or projects of yours which you would like to currently revisit?

G.M.: My belief is that history is not a linear progression but a volatile, cyclical process – one where events echo each other in unexpected ways. The impulse to revisit past works extends beyond Nature of the Beast. My exhibition Untitled at Warsaw’s Zachęta National Gallery [December 2011–19 February 2012] was my first solo show in Poland since I left in 1989. At its heart was the theme of censorship in Polish art post-1989, an era marked by increased attacks on artists and institutions. Through researching the gallery’s archives, I traced a shift in Polish society as new right-wing populist groups used cultural policies to further their stances on issues like abortion, LGBTQ+ rights, and EU relations. One piece from that show, Family (2011), originally depicted a conventional family. Recently, I restructured it to feature two women with a child, symbolising resistance to the narrow definition of family promoted in Polish politics.

Another project that has taken on new layers over time is my work for dOCUMENTA 13 in 2012. While collecting materials in Kabul for the main piece work, I visited the Afghan Film Archive. My research there uncovered signs of Afghanistan’s turbulent history and later I also created an additional piece from discarded fragments of censored film I bought, unexpectedly including explicit scenes removed from Afghan, Bollywood, and Hollywood films I found there. These snippets revealed a complex narrative around censorship, and with the Taliban’s return to power, the project now resonates with new urgency. Afghan women, already marginalised under Taliban rule then, face much more severe restrictions today, and the Archive as well as the whole cultural heritage of Afghanistan is under threat again.

Time and changing global contexts add layers to these works, underscoring how historical references gain new depth as they intersect with the present. Revisiting these pieces, I am reminded how art can serve as both a witness and a participant in history’s continuous unfolding, inviting reinterpretation as the cultural and political landscape shifts.

Goshka Macuga, Born From Stone, 2024. Photo: Jason Alden.
Goshka Macuga, Born From Stone, 2024. Photo: Jason Alden.

M.K.: Your practice spans a wide breadth of media, yet tapestry is one medium that you have returned to over and over again. What is the allure of this medium for you?

G.M.: In recent years, the jacquard tapestry has been used as a substitute for printmaking techniques like photographic prints or silkscreen. Many artists seem to treat it as simply a larger, more expensive way to reproduce an image, with little regard for the rich historical context of the medium. This shift has, in some ways, discouraged me from working with tapestry as frequently as I did. For me, tapestry has always carried a political dimension. This is evident in projects like my The Nature of The Beast, where Picasso’s anti-war message was translated into a more layered historical narrative, and in works like Plus Ultra and Of what is that is, of what is not that is not 1 & 2 I made for dOCUMNETA 13. The political weight of tapestry began with its use during the reign of Charles V when tapestries were commissioned to glorify his empire and promote the spread of colonial ideals across Europe. Unlike Guernica, which opposes political and military violence, these tapestries were created to reinforce imperial authority and celebrate military triumphs.

Historically, textiles have had a significant social role, often embodying political messages, even when not explicitly intended to do so. Just as political banners or murals can serve as symbols of power or resistance, tapestry holds a unique place in art history, illustrating the evolution of societal values and carrying political narratives and these are the references that motivated me to use this medium in my work in the first place.

Revisiting these pieces, I am reminded how art can serve as both a witness and a participant in history’s continuous unfolding, inviting reinterpretation as the cultural and political landscape shifts.
— Goshka Macuga

About The Author

Maggie Kuzan

Maggie
Kuzan

Freelance art writer and curator living and working in Valencia, Spain. She explores gender, sexuality and the body from a feminist phenomenological perspective. Since 2014 she has worked with Contemporary Lynx. In 2018 she launched Thinking Flesh, a feminist art platform dedicated to embodiment and lived experience.

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