Aftermath
Curated by: Tīna Pētrsone
Kim?, Riga
2024
“We live in a time when the past seems more unpredictable than the future,” wrote the British historian Eric Hobsbawm—a sentiment that feels ever more prescient as headlines offer reinterpretations of history with increasing frequency. History has never been a fixed entity—it has always been rewritten, reexamined, and reinterpreted. Yet today, these processes have reached an unprecedented intensity: historical understanding is entangled in ideological battles, muddled by the oversaturation of digital media, and increasingly weaponized as a tool in political discourse. When narratives compete, overlap, and shift in form, how can we orient ourselves among the versions of history they propose?
This exhibition unfolds in a time of deep instability—amid wars, shifts in power, and ideological rupture. Its central motif is rooted in the notion of “aftermath” as a layered, nonlinear, and continuously evolving process. The word aftermath first appeared in 16th-century Middle English, when farmers used it to describe grass that regrew after mowing. Over time, it acquired a broader metaphorical meaning—referring to the consequences of an event, especially in the wake of disaster, war, or major societal upheaval. Thus, the term encompasses both devastation and the potential for renewal—a cyclical process in which the past never truly disappears but transforms and returns in altered form. This notion of cyclical return forms the conceptual axis of Nelly Agassi’s first solo exhibition in the Baltic region.
At the heart of Agassi’s practice lies the idea of a “biography of site”—an approach that treats a site’s context as both a source of inquiry and a material in itself. During a week-long visit in Riga last November, Agassi visited local museums and wandered through the city, collecting visual impressions and engaging with traces of historical presence. These impressions reappear in her installations as fragments, gestures, and materials imbued with symbolic charge. Aftermath becomes both a meditation on what has been and an inquiry into a future (or a history?) still taking shape—still possible.