Language is at the heart of Thérèse Bolliger’s artistic practice. In her multimedia works, she explores its power and the way in which language shapes our individual and collective experiences and actions. The two-part series Correspondences (Meret), created in 1998, examines the reception of the Swiss artist Meret Oppenheim and her oeuvre. Bolliger juxtaposes correspondences between the artist and the art critics Christiane Meyer-Thoss and Jean-Christophe Ammann. By reducing the critical texts about Oppenheim to their essence and highlighting individual adjectives, Bolliger brings Oppenheim’s own literary use of language to the fore. Her handwriting contrasts with the printed, list-like presentation of the words of Meyer-Thoss and Ammann. With this work, Thérèse Bolliger emphasizes the relationship between artists and critics and points out linguistic similarities and differences. The grid-like, translucent carrier material presents the writing in a visual form and simultaneously enables it to disappear over and over again. Correspondences (Meret) is part of a comprehensive project by the artist that consists of text-based works in which Bolliger alludes to complex, often unexpected or controversial forms of reception. In addition to Oppenheim, she also focuses on artists and writers such as Robert Walser and Bas Jan Ader, whose works have been and continue to be discussed in contradictory yet never conclusive ways. Addressing these contradictions and using them as the basis for her own search for truth is central to Bolliger’s work.

Anja Braun presents two series of works as part of Regionale at the Kunsthaus Baselland: five small-format works from the group of works Windows (Klingental) (2022) are juxtaposed with a work from Variations of Presence (2021). Color and the reflection of the material lie at the heart of her artistic approach. Anja Braun works primarily with color pigments; bound with glue, they are applied to the image support in rapid brushstrokes and encased between glass plates. Sometimes the artist also paints the front plate of glass. The overlapping shades create harmonious as well as unsettling moments, in which delicate meets garish, light meets dark. The reflections allow the spatial installations to be understood as windows that create continuously changing snapshots. Through the interplay between movement and light, viewers are drawn directly into the work. The reflection of our own silhouettes and the exhibition space has a destabilizing effect, emphasizing both the temporality and the subjectivity of our perception and experiences in the here and now.

The performance A couple of years (Un par de años) by Lara and Noa Castro Lema (b. 1998) examines the relationship between fact and fiction. In the project, the sisters recall the past two years of their lives and share fragments of the joys and pains they have experienced. Starting from the notion that the act of storytelling is already fiction, the artists combine their individual experiences with quotations and sound poetry. This auditory level is complemented by projected images and text as well as movement sequences. At the heart of the performance are oral traditions, collective forms of knowledge, and the history of everyday life, otherwise known as “intra-history.” The two artists repeatedly refer to their Galician origins and the Costa da Morte. The result is a poetic, dreamy space in which the act of storytelling is central: How do we tell what we have made up, experienced, and written, and who is allowed to participate in these stories? A couple of years (Un par de años) is in keeping with the rest of Lara and Noa Castro Lema’s artistic oeuvre. In their collaborative practice, which includes video, text, language, and performance, they examine collective processes and forms of care, thus distancing themselves from a hyper-individualistic approach to art. In A couple of years (Un par de años), this is exemplified by the song that the artists sing cyclically at the beginning and end of the performance together with the audience. This piece of music creates a framework for the performance as well as a moment of communal solidarity.

Pia Rosa Dobrowitz uses digital sketches as the basis for her paintings. The dimensionless nature of these tools, which can be understood as a kind of architectural plan, enables her to work on a large scale. The artist spreads the canvas out on the floor and projects a template onto the support. By layering the paint in matt and opaque layers, the gestures of the artist’s hand—the brushstrokes—retreat behind the texture of the surface. The painter is primarily concerned with finding a balance between color and form. As one of the fundamental aspects of painting, this relationship is constantly explored in new ways through repetition and variation. The recurring heraldic forms and circular motifs create an element of familiarity and, together with the choice of title, allude to seriality while simultaneously forging connections within her artistic oeuvre. The appeal of Pia Rosa Dobrowitz’s works lies in the painterly elements that are always visible, despite the seemingly serial nature of their production and the suppression of the brushstroke. The combinations of color and form stimulate the retina and are imprinted onto the viewer’s eye.

The artist duo Dorota Gaweda (b. 1986) and Egle Kulbokaite (b. 1987), who live and work in Basel, present The Enclosure Series (2023/24) at the Kunsthaus Baselland. The installation elements, which refer to processes of land privatization, divide the exhibition space and restrict visitors’ movements while also creating new, intimate spaces. The boundaries are both rigid and ephemeral. The translucency of the membrane-like chiffon textiles contrasts with the aluminum borders of the modular image carriers. Overlapping, hybrid images are created: motifs of botanical chimeras encounter a reinterpreted scene from Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Il Decamerone as well as the algorithmically altered documentation of the duo’s -lalia performance (2020). The figure of the lying narrator, who finds redemption through his powers of persuasion, and the witch Poludnica from Slavic folklore are both queered^[1] and situated in a digital context. If you look directly at the semi-transparent image, it seems permeable. The work is only activated by the viewer’s movements. By increasing or decreasing the saturation of the chiffon textile prints, depending on where the viewer is standing, the artists distance themselves from a linear view of art. In the context of The Enclosure Series, seeing becomes an embodied practice that cannot be detached from other sensory perceptions. This multisensory artistic experience is typical of the work of the artist duo. In their practice, which spans performance, sculpture, video installation, and olfactory works, they are constantly searching for new forms of expression in order to challenge established viewing traditions.

Subtle moments of irritation characterize the artistic work of Charlotte Horn (b. 1994). In Arrow, a large-format oil painting, the artist debunks the widespread assumption that hares and rabbits belong to the same species. This reference to the specificity of species is used to critically examine established attributions. Horn’s aim here is to highlight the inadequacy of such typological processes. Instead of reinforcing rigid categories, she advocates for a processual and fluid understanding of life forms in all their diversity as a form of “interspecies coexistence.” As a recurring theme in her practice, the multimedia artist encourages us to think of the relationship between humans and their environment as one of “becoming- and being with”^[1]. Another work by Charlotte Horn is titled Cathexis. This landscape painting alludes to the psychoanalytical concept of the same name and describes how objects, people, and ideas are charged with meanings, emotions, and memories. A seemingly doubled landscape view is depicted, which—contrary to established exhibition practice—is not only displayed on the wall but also on the floor. The painting does not show a vast, idyllic landscape, but a lake and a dried-up meadow. Although you might assume that the two representations are mirror images of each other, a closer look reveals that they are in fact different. This moment of confusion is a way of challenging established perceptual patterns and the process of cathexis. Charlotte Horn thus invites viewers to reflect on their own subjective and situated perspectives.

In his film work Park (2024), which will premiere at the Kunsthaus Baselland, Simon Krebs (b. 1984) focuses on the Dreirosenanlage in Basel. Situated on the banks of the Rhine and directly adjacent to the pharmaceutical industry, the Dreirosenbrücke bridge, and a residential area, this park is used in a variety of ways: it is a place for people to walk, consume, exercise, discuss, relax, play music, and dance. While some use it for political purposes, others see it as a space for joyful togetherness and coexistence. At the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic, the Basel-based artist and filmmaker began filming the goings-on at the Dreirosenanlage. He initially captured footage from the window of his apartment, in the safety of his own home, before venturing outside with Tanja Weidmann, who accompanied him with a microphone. Together, they documented the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The resulting narratives tell fragmentary stories of a time in which our living spaces shifted and deal with open spaces as well as their limitations. The resistant appropriation of public spaces is repeatedly emphasized as a self-empowering practice. The examination of interior and exterior spaces invites us to think about public and private spheres. This debate is becoming increasingly important, especially in the context of the commercialization and privatization of urban spaces.

In Nice little cooing doves (2023), Tim Kummer examines the conflict-ridden relationship between humans and city pigeons. Kummer has placed thirteen ceramic pigeons on a galvanized pole, while small clay droppings are carefully positioned on the exhibition floor. Kummer alludes here to the fact that these animals, which are often perceived as a “nuisance,” are associated with soiling building facades and spreading diseases. However, he also emphasizes the role of pigeons in urban ecosystems and their impressive adaptability. For example, city pigeons use buildings as nesting sites or base their search for food on human activities. Placing the ceramic pigeons at eye level encourages visitors to engage with this interspecies relationship in urban space. This in turn raises the question of animal habitats. What space should be allocated to non-human subjects in the public sphere? The artist invites visitors to attempt a non-hierarchical understanding of the relationship between pigeons and humans. Humor and satire serve as an artistic strategy to challenge established norms. The time-intensive production of the ceramics illustrates Kummer’s devotion to these animals. Although the ceramic pigeons were serially produced, they are still unique pieces that bear the traces of their creation.

The Latin term tapetum lucidum describes a layer of cell tissue that reflects the light that falls on the retina. This layer allows nocturnal animals to see better in the dark. This phenomenon is particularly well documented in nocturnal images of animals such as deer or foxes, whose eyes glow mysteriously in the light. Céline Lachkar evokes this phenomenon in her chalk drawing Forêt. Voir à travers, ensemble 2 at first glance, this work looks almost photorealistic, while its composition is reminiscent of harmonographs. It is inspired by the photographic series Tapetum lucidum by artist Anne Zimmermann. The panoramic image tells the story of a cross-species encounter. The visual perspectives established in the drawing create the impression that the viewer is disturbing the animals and disrupting their nocturnal activities. By making the animals look directly at the viewer, a moment of stillness is conveyed. Céline Lachkar thus raises our awareness of the existence of these creatures that operate in the dark and often remain beyond the limits of our perception. In her work, she invites us to focus our attention on aspects of nature that are often invisible.

In A Body in Fragments (2023), Lena Laguna Diel (b. 1993) focuses on the body as a “receptacle of memories.” This expansive installation explores how experiences are not only inscribed into our memories, but also our bodies. In this respect, body and mind cannot be considered separately: the physical influences the psychological and vice versa. This idea is illustrated by the numerous ceramic fragments that capture various memories: colorful flower arrangements, architectural details, fishermen casting their nets at dawn, a white table with only empty martini glasses left on it. The Basel-based artist arranges a wide variety of themes and images to form a kind of meta-body. These individual experiences seem to connect to parts of the body and become part of the bodily sensations themselves. This chimes perfectly with Lena Laguna Diel’s artistic practice, in which the artist refers to forms of psychotherapy where different parts of the patient’s body are touched in order to reactivate memories. Although this is often used in the context of trauma therapy, A Body in Fragments not only deals with traumatizing experiences, but also joyful ones; as we know, both painful and happy experiences are imprinted onto the body. Consequently, A Body in Fragments is about melancholy as well as hopeful moments and invites us to reflect on the body as a “home of memories.”

Maude Léonard-Contant’s artistic oeuvre explores the relationship between object and language. Under the heading “mise sous presse”, she puts various materials under pressure and facilitates their transformation: the artist stretches leather, folds silk, and presses plants, drawing on traditional craft techniques such as furniture upholstery or pleating. Dark leather objects lie upon pale, pleated silk fabric. Their heaviness contrasts with the light textiles and delicate plant ornaments. The dried flowers, leaves, and roots come from the places where Maude Léonard-Contant lives: Basel, Val Poschiavo, and the Lanaudière region of Quebec. Collecting and pressing the plants creates a sense of belonging for the artist, who comes from the French-speaking part of Canada and now lives in Basel. Like learning a language, knowledge about local plants provides access to the culture of a place. By using endangered plant species and slowly disappearing craft techniques in her exhibited pieces, Maude Léonard-Contant works to prevent them from dying out or being forgotten. At first glance, the language central to Maude Léonard-Contant’s work appears to be absent from the works on display at Kunsthaus Baselland. Yet it is present in a subtle form. The dried strawberry leaves, which are tucked into the folds of the pleated fabric, give the sculpture Sauvage Fraise more than just its title; the French word “fraise” not only means strawberry but also a ruff collar, a shape that is incorporated into the lower part of the sculpture. The work Herbes aux Chantres refers to hedge mustard, also known as the singer’s weed. As with all the plants on display in the exhibition, Maude Léonard-Contant has written a reverent love poem to it. The names of the plants not only lend the sculptures their titles, but also emphasize the power of these naming processes, which help us to comprehend phenomena and improve our understanding of the world.

Chilean artist Manuela Libertad Morales Délano (b. 1986) made a dough out of flour, salt, and water, kneaded it, and baked it into ninety-three loaves of bread. They are arranged in a circle in her installation Manito de Guagua: Economics of the Clock (2023). Because the loaves have been baked for different lengths of time, their appearance ranges from pale and doughy to charred black. As the artist points out, the loaf becomes more and more depleted as the baking time increases, which can be compared to the exploitation of workers around the world. After all, we are still living under capitalist social systems in which wage labor dictates the rhythm of life and therefore fundamentally shapes human existence. Time is power, and its standardization enables rulers to assert their dominance, as evidenced in the colonization of the artist’s home continent of South America. A variety of temporal systems based on the sun, seasons, or cosmology were abolished and replaced by European time. By devising a temporal system that is similar to a clock, but without twelve digits, the artist alludes precisely to this phenomenon. At the same time, she encourages viewers to critically examine this relationship between time and power, which affects us all. The charred loaves of bread are associated with the French July Revolution in 1830 and the clocks that were fired at as a sign of protest. The loaves of bread shaped into “Manito de Guagua” and clenched fists are also a symbol of both greed and resistance. A staple food for all of us, bread represents scarcity, time, and revolutionary movements.

The Rue des Moraines in Carouge served as the inspiration for artist Lisa Mazenauer’s sound installation Rivières Revers. The name of the street refers to the glacial sediments on which the small town was built. Fascinated by the establishment of a town on the “wounds” of the glacier, Mazenauer centers water in various states of aggregation in her installation. This involves imitating the melting process of the glacier and placing frozen water from the Rhône and Arve rivers near Carouge in a net suspended from the ceiling. The installation is then activated by the melting ice: it slowly drips onto six hand-chased brass bowls that are reminiscent of organic leaf shapes. The artist wired these sound bowls and connected them to an amplifier. The resulting sounds tell the story of the rivers—which, in their journey from their glacial sources^[2] to their mouths, have passed through various living bodies, landscapes, and bodies of water, as well as cities, suburbs, and industries—in fragments. As they listen, the audience is invited to reflect on the relationship between humans and their surrounding environments, as well as the routines that shape our lives. The list of water components in the description of the work illustrates how our actions affect the environment: traces of chemical substances such as mercury can be found in the water from the Rhône and the Arve. These substances are carried from a nearby aluminum factory into the ground by rainwater and subsequently into the rivers. The work is a plea for a careful and considerate approach to the world around us.

As part of Regionale, Jorge Morocho presents his new production Every relic has the power to speak underwater (2024) for the first time. This constructed underwater view is based on a digitally generated representation of the Ziggurat of Ur, which was created by a user of the gaming platform Minecraft in 2012. Placed at the bottom of the ocean, the monochrome ultramarine-blue color of the Mesopotamian temple is particularly striking. Every relic has the power to speak underwater explores the artistic and cultural significance of the color blue. Originally made from powdered lapis lazuli, the pigment has always been associated with the divine and equated with gold due to its rarity. Even today, people still ascribe a transcendent power to the color blue. In this work, it is not clear whether the artist is alluding to the numerous relics that have ended up at the bottom of the sea as a result of colonial raids and transatlantic trade—if they are not to be found in European collections—or whether he is actually referring to some futuristic blockbuster. Morocho has long been interested in the reappropriation of anthropological objects and their recontextualization in pop culture. Every relic has the power to speak underwater is part of a larger project by the artist in which he examines the friction between the banal and the mythical, the nostalgic and the cynical.

Katrin Niedermeier’s site-specific installation Contamination in Obsolescence (2024) examines the interplay between technology and the environment. Instead of viewing “away from keyboard” and digital spaces as two separate spheres, the artist makes it clear that the analog and virtual worlds are intertwined. This idea is taken further in the group of works Contamination in Obsolescence(2024): the seemingly haphazard, chaotic, and random staging of the objects—a chair, an easel, and a palm tree—is precisely arranged by Katrin Niedermeier. Inspired by AI prompts, they are based on the idea of (mis)combinations, so-called “glitches.” These have transformational potential. The etymology of the term can be traced back to the Yiddish word “gletshn” and the German verb “glitschen.” As “mistakes, errors, or malfunctions,” glitches offer the possibility of social change. As such, Contamination in Obsolescence negotiates the resistant and unpredictable creative potential of system errors. This is also highlighted by the materials Niedermeier uses, such as plastic, cables, raffia, straw, and wood, as well as remnants of clothing and fabric. Once valuable goods, they are now associated with environmental destruction and a “throwaway mentality,” representing both decay and innovation.

Ulrich Okujeni’s works are both figurative and abstract. He guides the brush across the image support in circular motions, creating delicate lines. In the colored intersections and fields, implied narratives repeatedly dissolve into geometric forms. It seems as if the artist is searching for a balance between abstraction and figuration; this process results in a dynamic that defines Okujeni’s artistic oeuvre. This tension can be observed in Pangea Ultima (2023), which refers to the ancient supercontinent of Pangaea. In this work, fragmentary narrative strands emerge that either cannot be fully understood or take place simultaneously, thus stimulating the viewer’s imagination. The reference to Pangaea, a contiguous land mass representing the origin of the continents, is to be understoodas a kind of parable or a reflection on the global community. Various scientists predict that the current fragmentary state of the earth is temporary and that it could merge together again after around 450 million years. Ulrich Okujeni draws on these geological concepts and combines them with the frequently invoked art-historical motif of paradise and end times. In this respect, Pangea Ultima constitutes a contemporary interpretation of the canonized Garden of Eden. The artist describes his work as a metaphor for the utopian idea of human solidarity, but also as a reminder of the minor significance of humankind on a geological scale.

Memory lies at the heart of Lou Anne Pommé’s artistic practice. Her multifaceted oeuvre, which spans installation, video, song, and sculpture, explores the hidden and the subconscious. Collecting experiences and emotions forms the basis of her artistic practice. By incorporating these experiences from her everyday life into her works and embedding them in a broader context, the artist connects her individual experiences to the collective. This is also the case in Murmuration (2023): a stork that nested outside her window upon her arrival in Mulhouse and the general omnipresence of these migratory birds in public spaces inspired the artist to create her sound and video installation. The birds, which have a special significance as the symbol of Alsace, fly from France to North African countries such as Algeria every fall. Lou Anne Pommé draws parallels between the birds’ journey, her own family history of migration, and global migration movements. The sung poem “chant migratoire” and the film footage of the rigid bird formations blend fiction and reality. The story unfolds of a stork that Lou Anne Pommé encounters in Alsace; it later disappears, only for the artist to meet it again in the Algerian Sahara.

The five-part series Lentezza No. 1–5 (2021) by Margherita Raso (b. 1991) is based on drone photographs taken by the artist of flooded rice fields in Vercelli, Piedmont in spring 2020. Raso is interested in the contrast between the rigid grid arrangement of the fields and the fluidity of the water flooding them. She has created five jacquard textiles that explore this juxtaposition in an artistic and highly poetic way. These photographs served as the basis for her textile works. Against the black background are densely stitched fields of dominant blue and translucent red shades. While the contrasting blue and red yarns evoke the surface of water, the black, cross-shaped background alludes to the parcels of land. Different hues can be seen depending on the way the light falls.

Raso has been working with this complex textile technique for over eleven years, constantly testing the possibilities and limits of this medium in her work as an artist. She is particularly interested in the connection between craft techniques and coding processes: by translating motifs into a sequence of ones and zeros, the jacquard textile technique patented in 1804 is considered a precursor to digital technologies. In this context, it is interesting to see the extent to which the male bias of our societal understanding of technology can be refuted.

In her artistic practice, Marion Ritzmann aims to reveal existing structures of order. She renders construction processes visible—as demonstrated by her installation work Free-Floating. A curtain clothes the exhibition wall and invites visitors to explore the museum building in an alternative way. The interventions in the space make us reflect on the significance of existing behavioral norms in museum institutions. In this context, this also raises questions about what is hidden and invisible: Is it possible to touch the curtain—the art object—and push it aside? Free-Floating activates the architecture and contrasts the flowing movements of the fabric with the immovable nature of the building. The coral-pink cotton material, which evokes a sense of intimacy and is printed with repetitive, rhythmic geometric patterns, creates a protective atmosphere in the public space.

Lionne Saluz’s watercolors, drawings, and murals are inspired by existing creations—often comics and books. The process of painting and copying them allows her to appropriate established pictorial formulas from art history and pop culture. The artist often focuses on a specific element, which she removes from its original context in order to create her own visual worlds. The works Zettel(2021) and Dagegen (2021) both refer to the well-known US cartoon character Donald Duck. The text and image material is combined with coins, which the artist places on the picture frames. Swimming in dollar bills, Scrooge McDuck is ironically and humorously transformed into a figure that enables viewers to scrutinize capitalist structures and the status of wage labor. How can we understand commitment and fulfillment outside of paid employment—in terms of interpersonal relationships and (self-)care? These are the questions that Lionne Saluz explores in her works. Her practice is also inspired by caricatures, which were used to satirically criticize dominant power structures and can therefore be seen as precursors to comics. This implicit allusion is made explicit in Après vous! (2023), with its reference to the French caricaturist Honoré Daumier. This process of making things visible through satirical exaggeration is also adopted by Lionne Saluz in Rules of the Icon Painter (2023), in which she copies a set of instructions for painting icons. The artistic rules outlined here relate to the working attitude, diligence, and intention of the icon painters. Here, too, Saluz uses the act of copying to introduce subtle changes: she replaces the original personal pronoun, which attributes a masculine gender to the divine, with the feminine form. It is these moments of reappropriation that influence our perception of Lionne Saluz’s artistic work and allow us as viewers to reimagine established orders and social norms.

The installation Aufzeichnung aus dem Lichtloch (Drawing from the Light Shaft, 2023) by Moa Sjöstedt (b. 1986) is part of the artist’s systematic exploration of the medium of drawing. Rays of light, shadows, concentrations, movement, and depth are presented in detail and spread across several individual sheets to form a large whole. The artist, who comes from Gothenburg and now lives in Basel, is inspired by the microcosms and communities on the lighthouse islands of the Swedish archipelago. Lighthouse keepers and their families looked after the lighthouses on the islands before they were automated as technology progressed. These former communities disappeared, leaving behind places uninhabited by humans that provided space for various non-human life forms. Consequently, the islands are now mainly populated by animals and plants. Only the lighthouses indicate the existence of humans and their interventions in nature. They represent scientific progress, technological advancements, seafaring, and transatlantic trade relations. At the same time, these places of longing are also mystical symbols. By interweaving the rational and transcendental significance of the lighthouses, Moa Sjöstedt addresses fundamental questions of Western cultural history: the arrangement of the drawings to form one large surface disrupts the definitive, directional clarity of the lighthouse. Instead, the flat surface reveals a plurality of potential pathways: in chaos, the human mastery of nature is called into question.

Basel-based artist Julia Steiner (b. 1982) is primarily known for her large-format drawings. By drawing with a brush, she dissolves the boundaries between the genres of drawing and painting. In her series into the blue I–V, Steiner uses light and dark ultramarine tones to explore the effects of light, air, and water. Sometimes very precisely executed, sometimes veering more toward blurriness, the pictures oscillate between representation and abstraction. This surprising series demonstrates that the genre of landscape painting has lost none of its presence, appeal, or allure. Julia Steiner is also exhibiting an installation work; she develops these alongside her drawings, and they are usually thematically related. In Welten (2023), Steiner suggests thinking of “the world” as plural. Her ceramic hemispheres vary in their size and glaze. Abstract outlines of potential countries or continents can be seen on their surfaces. In the installation, the artist makes reference to her series Fragments of Worlds, created between 2005 and 2016. This collection of objects, comprising a total of 200 pieces, is to be understood as a personal archive of visions or even understandings of the world. In Fragments of Worlds, Julia Steiner takes up recurring themes in her work, such as growth, development, and decay, thus highlighting continuities in her own artistic oeuvre.

Vital Z’Brun (b. 1999) creates animal objects by hand out of wire and textiles; their fragility and vulnerability reveal a subtle exploration of themes such as power, representation, and objectification. While the superficially fluffy and seemingly innocent aesthetic may initially seem to distract from the essence of his works, engaging with his film sequences and photographs allows reflections on various forms of hierarchical relationships to emerge, ranging from the dynamics between humans and animals to societal power structures. In the portrait series Jardin à la française (French Formal Garden, 2024), the artist, who comes from Valais and lives in Basel, draws inspiration from classic depictions of animals, such as those found in zoological illustrations and historical paintings. He scrutinizes the fine line between scientific observation and symbolic staging. The artist examines how such forms of representation maintain power relations by portraying animals both as mere objects and as symbols of wealth and conquest, thereby reinforcing human supremacy. In the video work Histoire sans lion (History without the Lion, 2023), the lion—the “king of the animals” and a symbol of power—is deliberately excluded from the narrative. Its absence creates space for other animals that can rewrite history. This distancing from a central symbol of power challenges traditional historical hierarchies and opens up a more diverse perspective on history and power relations in storytelling structures. Vital Z’Brun’s playful, humorous, and critical approach invites us to rethink familiar narratives. It presents a vision of a world in which the diversity of perspectives takes center stage.