Weaving a complex tapestry of memory, place, and resonance, using the city’s layered past as both stage and subject, the 6th edition of the Art Encounters Biennial unfolds under the poetic and thought-provoking title Bounding Histories. Whispering Tales. The curators of this year’s Biennial, Ana Janevski and Tevž Logar, reflect on the challenges and insights of curating within the layered landscape, and on the echoes they hope will linger – within the city, its audiences, and beyond.
Taking place from May 30 to July 13, 2025, in Timișoara, Romania, and deeply rooted in the local context, the Biennial is structured around three distinct venues – the Garrison Command (a former military site), FABER (a repurposed factory), and the Art Encounters Foundation (a space that once functioned as both a factory and a kindergarten). Each of these locations, heavy with historical weight, acts not simply as a setting but as an active participant in the curatorial framework. Through their architectural and emotional textures, they become chambers where memory reverberates and new echoes are formed.
At the core of the curatorial vision is the concept of the “echo” – not as a mere repetition, but as a transformative force, a medium through which past and present interlace. Rather than offering clear-cut messages, the Biennial engages with echoes as shifting relations: between artworks, between the city and its histories, between audience and space. Featuring contributions from both local and international artists, including five newly commissioned works from an open call, this edition engages with urgent themes – belonging, displacement, collective memory, environmental justice, queer worldmaking, and post-communist legacies, while inviting viewers to dwell in the in-between: the temporal, emotional, and political thresholds that shape how we listen and how we imagine.
As the Biennial is deeply rooted in the local context of Timișoara, what inspired you to centre the curatorial concept around the specific histories of the three chosen venues?
From the outset of envisioning this exhibition, the rich and layered history of Timișoara was not merely a backdrop – it was a quiet presence woven into every conversation. The venues we selected are far from neutral; each one resonates with symbolic significance, invoking distinct moments from the city’s past. In doing so, they open a space for dialogue – between time, place, and memory. But our aim was never to dwell solely in history. What truly compelled us was the question of what these historical moments stir within us – how they echo through both personal and collective memory, and how those echoes continue to shape our present, and how we organise an international exhibition in this context.
You describe the notion of echo as central to this edition. How does it serve as both a metaphor and a methodology in shaping the exhibition experience?
As already mentioned, it was not history itself, but the stirrings it leaves behind – the quiet tremors of certain moments – that moved us most. We found ourselves listening for what they awaken within us, how they drift through the memory, both intimate and collective, and how their lingering echoes shape the present. So we tried to reflect on how these reverberations are felt today, amid the persistent realities of war, genocide, ecocide, violence, hatred, and inequality. It was this tension – between remembrance and urgency – that brought us to the concept of the “echo”, and to echoing as a curatorial framework. We considered the most recent studies about “echo” that consider the echo as an agent of change and communication, mere repetition, a sound that needs a material space to exist. The echo is not about transmissions of information but mainly about relations. The conversations we had with some of the artists were also very inspiring.
For example, Lawrence Aby Hamdan’s work Zifzafa deals with the movement resisting green colonialism in the occupied Syrian Golan Heights. At one moment of the performance, Lawrence quotes the Syrians in the occupied region who, referring to the Syrian revolution, said, “You are the voices, we are the echo”. In this way, echo doesn’t offer support, it has its own context and struggle. Or the works by the Croatian artist Zeljka Blaksic, entitled Echos, are about layering and outlining disparate objects to create new structures and meaning. Through all these lenses, we tried exploring the subtle yet powerful connections among works by local, regional, and international artists, and how these connections engage with the spaces of Timișoara and its audiences. These relationships exist in the thresholds – in the liminal and ephemeral – where time blurs, past and present converge, and what is unseen or unheard begins to take shape.
“What truly compelled us was the question of what these historical moments stir within us – how they echo through both personal and collective memory, and how those echoes continue to shape our present, and how we organise an international exhibition in this context. “
So the idea of echo challenges direct communication and emphasises relationships, instead. How does this influence the way artworks are selected and placed within the venues?
As we began selecting the venues, we came to realise that the city’s layered history could be reflected not only in the artworks but also through the meanings carried by each space. The Garrison Command, a former military building, the Art Encounters Foundation, once a factory premises and a kindergarten, and FABER, also a former factory, all bear the imprint of time. These sites stand as quiet witnesses to cultural, social, political, and architectural transformations. In this way, the venues became more than settings; they became an essential part of the exhibition’s concept, shaping both our curatorial thinking and the placement of works within each space. It is this very interplay – between venues, between histories, and between the subtle tension of past and present that gives form to the idea of the echo.
Some works lean gently into memory, murmuring stories long carried; others speak with urgency to the pressing realities of today. Our focus lies not in separating these voices, but in listening to where they meet – where they overlap and resonate. Rather than organise the exhibition into discrete themes or clusters, we chose instead to craft a rhythm, a sense of movement – something more akin to a journey than a map. A passage through shifting times, through waves of emotion, through diverse media and critical perspectives. This kind of movement invites multiplicity, not a singular narrative, but a chorus of voices. It welcomes both dissonance and resonance, allowing stories to intersect, interrupt, and drift. Like echoes seeking form in space.
And some of the newly commissioned works do exactly that – respond directly to Timișoara’s layered history. Can you share an example of how a particular work interacts with or reactivates its surrounding site?
The artists embraced a variety of approaches, each tracing their own path through memory, history, and emotion. We were very enthusiastic about the open call and truly thrilled when we received the proposals, and we were able to select projects by women artists, dealing with the different aspects of the city. Some turned inward, drawing from the deeply personal. Christine Cizmaș, for instance, speaks of the city not through monuments or maps, but through the intimate lens of her relationship with her mother, the most important figure in her life. Through this bond, she reveals hidden layers of Timișoara, where private stories echo within the broader urban fabric.
Loredana Ilie, in turn, brings into focus the quiet strength of women who once laboured in the textile industry. Her work traces the emotional threads that connect these former workers to their past, particularly the women, and reflects on how those lived experiences shaped not only individual identities but a shared collective memory. There is tenderness here, and resilience: a recognition of how labour, gender, and time intertwine. In contrast, Ana Adam moves through a different register, engaging with the imagined dialogue between two towering figures from premodern European and Banat history: Prince Eugen de Savoya and Count Claude Florimond de Mercy. Her work plays at the edge of fiction and history, conjuring the complexities of power, memory, and legacy through these characters whose decisions once shaped the destiny of a region. Together, these works form a constellation – some glowing with the warmth of personal memory, others pulsing with the weight of historical narrative. All speak, in their own way, to the many layers of place, identity, and remembrance.
The Biennial engages with urgent global themes such as displacement, environmental justice, and queer worldmaking. How do these themes resonate with or diverge from the local Romanian context?
Long before joining this project, I, Tevz, was familiar with the Art Encounters Foundation and the vital role it plays in the region’s cultural landscape. Yet it wasn’t until I was invited to co-curate the Biennial that I truly understood how deeply the responsibility toward the local community is woven into its very identity. This realisation was deeply meaningful to me – and, as it turned out, to Ana as well. Neither of us wished to arrive in Timișoara as outsiders, imposing a vision detached from its context. From the very beginning, our process was about listening – about holding our ideas in careful balance with the rhythm and realities of the local panorama. Not every artwork in the exhibition speaks directly or literally about Timișoara pr Romania. But each was chosen with intention. Some reflect shared cultural textures that resonate with the city’s and cultural spirit; others stir friction, drawing out the dissonances between parallel or diverging histories. Certain works interrogate systems and forces shaped by moments of rupture – revolution, war, while others reach inward, exploring the raw terrain of human emotion: love, fear, violence, pain, tenderness, care, solidarity. These are the threads that connect us all, across borders and time—universal, yet deeply personal.
You mention the “in-between and temporary” as generative spaces where boundaries blur. How do you envision the audience’s role within these transitional zones?
The “in-between and temporary” are spaces we’ve come to value not just conceptually, but experientially. The zones where time softens, where fixed meanings loosen, and where something unexpected can surface. These thresholds – between personal and collective, past and present, memory and imagination – are where much of the exhibition’s energy resides. We didn’t want the audience to simply view the works from a distance, but to step into these transitional zones and feel their way through them. In this context, the audience plays a vital, active role – not as passive observers, but as co-navigators. Just as we, as curators, tried to remain attuned to the pulse of the local context, we invite visitors to bring their own memories, questions, and emotional landscapes into dialogue with the works.
The exhibition doesn’t prescribe a single path or message. It unfolds like a passage – sometimes fragmented, sometimes harmonious – offering space for interpretation, for resonance, for dissonance. I hope the audience will dwell in these generative in-between spaces, allowing meaning to emerge slowly and relationally. Whether encountering intimate stories, historical tensions, or universal emotions and critical thoughts, they are invited to move with the exhibition, not just through it. Each viewer carrying away a different echo, shaped by where they come from and what they bring with them.
“Together, these works form a constellation – some glowing with the warmth of personal memory, others pulsing with the weight of historical narrative. All speak, in their own way, to the many layers of place, identity, and remembrance.”
Were there any challenges you faced in curating an exhibition that seeks to connect deeply personal, local memories with broader geopolitical narratives?
One of the main challenges we faced was finding meaningful ways to draw parallels between local, regional, and international narratives. While echo served as our central anchor – the concept around which the entire exhibition was shaped – we also dedicated significant attention to creating subtle conversations between the artworks within each venue. In this sense, the echo does not only move horizontally across the three spaces but also vertically, resonating within the identity of each site.
This layering of dialogue was perhaps the most complex aspect of our curatorial process. We had to remain sensitive not only to the thematic connections, but also to the formal qualities of each work – its material, rhythm, and spatial presence. It was important to us that the exhibition offered a dynamic experience across media as well, rather than a flat or uniform journey. We aimed to create a flow where echoes are not only thought or heard but also felt, shifting in tone and texture from one space to the next, and from one moment to another.
An interesting aspect of our process was also the fact that we were often working on different continents, in different time zones and contexts. We managed to somehow reverse these challenges into advantages. We ended up echoing each other, exchanging ideas and experiences, temporality and spaces.
The Biennial aims to create “new social contracts of collectivity” that include non-human agents. How is this reflected in the works and curatorial strategies?
The idea of forming “new social contracts of collectivity”, especially ones that include non-human agents, resonated with us not as a theme to be illustrated, but as a question that was present through the curatorial process itself. While we didn’t set out with a fixed framework, we were deeply aware of the urgent need to rethink how we relate – to each other, our environments, and the more-than-human world. This awareness informed both the selection of works and the curatorial rhythm. Some artists explore these entanglements explicitly – through ecological perspectives, the materiality of their work, or attention to forgotten or invisible presences that stretch beyond the human, like Silvia Moldovan, Cecilia Vicuna, or Simone Forti. Others evoke this expanded field more subtly, by tracing the reverberations of histories, emotions, and systems that implicate land, animals, industry, and atmosphere.
The venues themselves, each bearing traces of different human and cultural pasts, also played a key role. These are not blank spaces; they carry the weight of former factories, military presence, and childhood memories. We tried to allow these textures to speak through the exhibition, rather than neutralising them. In this way, we invited the spaces – and what they remember – to be agents in the curatorial dialogue. Ultimately, our strategy was not to compartmentalise these questions, but to let them ripple through the exhibition like echoes: sometimes direct, sometimes faint. We didn’t seek to build a single narrative, but to foster a multiplicity of perspectives – human and non-human, historical and contemporary, intimate and systemic. In doing so, we hoped to open a space where new forms of relationality might be imagined, where art can momentarily suspend the dominant order and allow something else to emerge.
Speaking of challenges, still. How do you see this edition of the Art Encounters Biennial contributing to a larger rethinking of biennials as cultural formats in the post-pandemic and post-industrial landscape?
In truth, we didn’t set out to radically rethink the form of the biennial, largely because we see that as a question that extends beyond the curatorial role alone. Reimagining the format involves the broader strategic vision of the Art Encounters Foundation, and this makes the task far more complex. It requires a deep and nuanced understanding of the local context – something we, as invited curators, tried to grasp as fully as possible, but ultimately, we remain outsiders. For us, it would have felt irresponsible to propose a new model without the assurance that it could be sustainable or meaningful within this specific environment.
Rethinking a biennial’s structure should be a long-term, gradual process – one that allows for careful assessment of all the moving parts: institutional, social, cultural, economic, and logistical. And that kind of work takes time – more time than the compressed schedule of preparing a single edition allows. That said, throughout the process of developing this edition and through ongoing conversations with the Art Encounters Foundation, we came to see that the question of the Biennial’s future is already on the table. After ten years of its existence, there is clearly an appetite to reflect on its form and purpose, and I’m genuinely curious to see how this will evolve in the years to come.
“Art nurtures criticality. It makes room for discomfort, for nuance, for aesthetic experience that challenges and unsettles.”
So what kinds of “new echoes” do you hope this Biennial will leave behind – for the city, the audience, and the art world at large, then?
At its core, I wasn’t interested in defining the exhibition too early, in fixing its shape before it had the chance to breathe. Within the context of this project, we felt no urgency to draw borders around something that was still becoming. From the outset, we shared an understanding: we would follow the thread of our dialogue, wherever it might lead. No rigid frameworks, no preordained structures. We left the door open and allowed the process to unfold. Early on, however, one awareness became unmistakably clear: those of us working in contemporary art must continue to defend it as a space for imagination and critical reflection. Not as a luxury, but as a shared resource – a public good – one that grows ever more fragile, increasingly at risk of being co-opted, diluted, or used as a tool for other agendas. And still, we must be clear-eyed about what art cannot do.
In the face of today’s harshest realities – wars, genocides, economic unravelling, the systematic erosion of rights and freedoms – art does not halt drones, tanks, and guns. It does not dismantle empires or undo systems of violence and control. Even as we speak, these forces move relentlessly forward. In that light, the role of art may appear small. And yet – it matters. Not because it saves the world, but because it allows us to see the world differently. Sometimes, in front of a single artwork, something quiet shifts inside us: a pause, a question, a crack in certainty. That fleeting moment of awareness may seem slight, but it carries the potential to redirect thought, to open a space where another way of being becomes imaginable. Art nurtures criticality. It makes room for discomfort, for nuance, for aesthetic experience that challenges and unsettles. And that, too, is a kind of resistance. A slow, invisible resistance that shapes how we listen, how we imagine, how we care. These are fragile beginnings—but they matter, and we hope they stay after the Biennial.
And from Ana’s long engagement with performance, we thought of the Biennial also as a performance, a moment when we come together, artists and audience, and after a certain period, the event is over. Yet many afterlives keep lingering, documentation, ephemera, a catalogue, gossip, memories, and affects.
Art Encounters Biennial
May 30 – July 13, 2025
Timișoara, Romania
Featured artists:
Garrison Command: Bora Baboci, Christine Cizmas, Alicia Mihai Gazcue, Dana Kavelina, Oscar Murillo, Mila Panic, Ghenadie Popescu, Stefan Sava, Bojan Stojcic, Nora Turato, Anton Vidokle & Liam Gillick, Marina Abramovic, Ana Adam, Mona Benyamin, Pavel Braila, Geta Brătescu, Clement Cogitore, Cian Dayrit, Ladislava Gaziová, Karpo Godina, Petrit Halilaj, Veronika Hapchenko, Belinda Kazeem-Kaminski, Kipwani Kiwanga, Ana Kun, David Malkovic, Teresa Margolles, Silvia Moldovan, Andrei Nacu, Marina Naprushkina, Raluca Popa, Larisa Sitar, Mark Verlan, Rosario Zorraquin;
Faber: Lawrence Abu Hamdan, Maja Bajevic, Zeljka Blaksic, Lorena Cocioni, Alle Dicu, Sinisa Ilic, Loredana Ilie, Joan Jonas, Franco Jost, Selma Selman;
Art Encounters Foundation: Marieta Chirulescu, Simone Forti, Robert Gabris, Jean Genet, Maria Gutu, Sky Hopinka, Hassan Khan, Jumana Manna, Silvia Moldovan, Eduardo Navarro, Christian Nyampeta, Gavril Pop, Larissa Sansour, Johanna Unzueta, Cecilia Vicuna.
