The Storm Is Already Here: A Review of ‘5th OFF-Biennale Budapest’

Karolina Breguła’s five-channel video installation, titled The Storm¹ (2024), is only 15 minutes long, but it can be seen as an overarching work for the entire biennale. It depicts five people discussing a looming storm that threatens to engulf their island and its inhabitants, evoking themes of fear, insecurity, prejudice, and even nihilism, with the thought: “Until it’s not happening to me, I don’t care.” The storm functions both as a literal phenomenon and, more importantly, as a metaphor for the unavoidable, the fear of the unknown, and the impossibility of articulating our anxieties verbally. The sometimes distant, often worried and emotional expressions of the performers stayed with me and made me reflect on the central theme and mission of the 5th OFF-Biennale Budapest. The storm is already here, and it is not possible to ignore it. The various projects and exhibitions presented in this year’s edition do precisely that: both artists and curators face uncomfortable questions.

Before I delve further into this year’s edition, I will introduce the biennale’s history and main goals over the past decade.

OFF-Biennale Budapest emerged in 2014, with its first edition taking place in 2015, as a grassroots response to the right-wing populist government that had gradually abolished many significant cultural sector locations in Hungary since 2010. Not only did institutions close or change their purpose (like the Kunsthalle), but there was also less and less support structure and funding for contemporary art (and culture in general).²

Hajnalka Somogyi, curator and founder of OFF-Biennale Budapest, came up with the idea to organize a festival-like event without any funds from the illiberal Orbán government, to show that contemporary art in Hungary was still thriving.³ The first edition was a patchwork-structured series of events, with more than 100 projects taking place in public spaces, private apartments, private galleries, and numerous other venues. The original curatorial team, comprising Hajnalka Somogyi, Nikolett Erőss, Katalin Székely, János Szoboszlai, Borbála Szalai, Anna Juhász, and Tijana Stepanović, collaborated with a large team of interns and volunteers, who were responsible for location scouting, technical support, and venue openings.

Since the first edition, the curatorial team has organized forums and discussions to address conflicts and misunderstandings along the way. Of course, these attempts were not always successful, but the efforts were important.

In 2017, the second edition of the biennale had a theme and a title: Gaudiopolis – The City of Joy⁴. The curators invited artists and projects that highlighted togetherness, community, and playfulness in times of crisis, as well as the rising tendencies of nationalism and populism. After inviting the first round of artists, the curatorial team launched an open call for submissions. The number of selected projects was smaller and more fitting to the thematic framework. OFF still did not accept any funds from the government and instead partnered with private galleries, non-profit exhibition spaces, and institutions to present projects at multiple locations. The curators also organized a group show titled People Players.⁵

The third edition, initially scheduled for 2020, was postponed to 2021 due to the COVID-19 pandemic, leading the curatorial team to rethink the format of the biennale. They decided they would act as “producers” for the third edition and would again make an open call, this time with an invited jury. They selected only around ten projects, mostly artists and curators who had not participated previously, and focused on themes of ecology, sustainability, and the climate crisis. The main title was Inhale!⁶ – evoking not only the pandemic but also the increasingly suffocating situation in the country and the world. The idea behind selecting only a handful of projects, with an external jury, was to provide them with proper funding. Another significant difference between the first two editions and the third was that, since 2019, the opposition party had been leading the city of Budapest (major: Gergely Karácsony), prompting the biennale team to develop a new policy where whilst they still would not accept money from the government, they would collaborate, for example, by allowing institutions funded by the city municipality to host the biennale projects.

OFF-Biennale Budapest became a lumbung member for documenta fifteen in 2022⁷, presenting two exhibitions at documenta fifteen (and they consider this as the 4th edition of OFF): one was a collaboration with RomaMoMA titled One Day We Shall Celebrate Again, which focused on presenting Roma artists from both the past and the present, as well as the huge painting by Tamás Péli, exhibited in 2021 in Budapest. OFF-Biennale Budapest considers their participation in documenta fifteen as its fourth edition. They also curated Whatifs and Whatnots – OFF Playground⁸ at AHOI! boathouse, reflecting on the notion of playfulness with artworks from Hungary and the CEE region.

This year’s edition, Poems of Unrest (May 8 –June 15), borrows its name from an artwork by Slovakian queer Roma artist Robert Gabris. This edition celebrates a decade of collaborative efforts, aiming to strengthen the independent art scene and foster democratic discourse through art, particularly around the often-manipulated concept of “security.”

Moving away from the cool conceptualism common in biennials, the 5th edition boldly embraces anger, sadness, and euphoria. Presenting a diverse range of works that reflect the struggles of marginalized communities while also offering survival strategies, resilient tactics, and hopeful narratives, the biennale features artists from Hungary and Central-Eastern Europe, as well as international voices, creating a compelling blend of regional and global perspectives. This diversity aims not just to raise awareness but to cultivate empathy and solidarity.

For this edition, the core curatorial team (which changed a bit throughout the years): Hajnalka Somogyi, Nikolett Erőss, Lívia Páldi, Katalin Székely, Eszter Lázár, and Rita Kálmán, invited four guest curators, namely, Borbála Soós (based in London), Edit Molnár (based in Oldenburg), Kata Oltai, and Veronika Molnár, to collaborate. While curators such as Borbála Soós and Edit Molnár have already curated projects in previous editions, Veronika Molnár, a young, early-career curator currently director of the non-profit Liget Gallery, is a relative newcomer to the OFF scene. The decision by the core curatorial team to invite four guest curators, including a younger, early-career curator, was a significant change – an astute and forward-looking decision. Until now, the curatorial team had been more or less homogeneous in terms of age and experience (mostly mid-career curators in their mid /late 40s). It is worth mentioning that, aside from one curator from the first edition of OFF-Biennale, the curatorial team functions as an all-women and queer curatorial collective – what we might even call a “feminist institution.”

In this edition, the curators revised the structure, assigning smaller teams or individual curators from the curatorial group to organize exhibitions in locations beyond the main venue at the former Merlin Theater (a total of 15 exhibitions/projects). There are also international collaborations – for instance, with ETC Magazine, Biennale Warszawa, and Budapest’s Bura Gallery (focused on Roma artists).

Does a more homogenous curatorial framework serve the biennale well? While the heterogeneity and diversity of curatorial voices have always been a strength of OFF, this year’s edition is one of the most unified and consistent. Although, as an audience member, I appreciate this coherence, I view it as both a limitation (allowing fewer voices to participate in shaping the biennale) and an advantage (resulting in a more accessible and understandable curatorial narrative).

With Hungary’s institutional landscape still under attack – and major venues like the Ludwig Museum rarely engaging with these themes – OFF-Biennale fills a critical void. It addresses urgent social questions often ignored by official institutions. But it still faces serious financial challenges. Despite international grants and donations, many team members work unpaid or for very low wages. This recurring problem raises concerns about sustainability and self-exploitation. Ten years later, OFF-Biennale still exists. But, how long can this continue like this?

That said, several clever strategies have been employed in this edition to offset the financial strain. One such solution is collaborating with private collectors in Hungary, whose rarely seen collections include outstanding works. Thanks to these partnerships, internationally renowned artists such as Paula Rego and Zanele Muholi are showcased at the biennale. Judit Reszegi, whose collection emphasizes women artists, was eager to collaborate with the biennale and saw it as an opportunity to showcase her collection. Alongside these big names, the biennale wisely highlights overlooked (and older generation) Hungarian artists – presenting the works of Mária Berhidi (who passed away in 2023), Anikó Loránt (who passed away in 2020), or Róza El-Hassan in a contemporary context is a decisive move, as it helps the audience create connect​​ions and form dialogues between the works. Moreover, this gesture acknowledges the artists’ absence from public view and restores their rightful place in the canon.

Another sustainable approach deployed involves “recycling” existing artworks from past curatorial projects. For example, Borbála Soós’s Seed Library – which invites artists with ecological interests to contribute “seeds” (real, imagined, artistic) – was first shown at Sopa Gallery in Košice (Slovakia)⁹ in 2022 and now has a new iteration at OFF-Biennale.

The main exhibition of the OFF-Biennale, curated by Rita Kálmán, Eszter Lázár, Edit Molnár, Veronika Molnár, Lívia Páldi, Hajnalka Somogyi, Borbála Soós, and Katalin Székely, takes place in the former Merlin Theater. The building belongs to the city municipality, yet it is barely used despite having been renovated. In this main exhibition, whose title these walls are not here to defend us¹⁰ is borrowed from a poem by Rebeka Kupihár¹¹, the focus is primarily on marginalized and oppressed communities as well as everyday citizens who suffer most under today’s totalitarian regimes. As the title also alludes, the walls, both symbolic and literal, no longer protect us – they isolate us. How can we find ways out of this situation, both on a personal and collective level? How can we dismantle the walls and create places where we feel at home?

With Merlin Theater as the main site, the biennale functions like an “out-and-back trail”, where all the main themes are presented. Other satellite locations serve as extensions, additions, continuations, or chapters of the issues raised at the main venue. Questions surrounding war and terror are further explored in Bakáts Bunker Underground Cultural Space. Notions related to ecology are presented in CEU’s Open Gallery and Kisterem Gallery. Additionally, themes concerning womanhood, sexual abuse, and invisible care work are addressed in a private apartment and in a former pharmacy ​​located at Koszorú Street and Mátyás Square.

In Merlin, the majority of works in the downstairs area address issues of racism and homophobia faced by LGBTQ+ and Roma communities in Hungary and abroad. It is an important step that, in this edition, the Roma artists are integrated into the main exhibition, rather than being segregated into a separate one focusing solely on “Roma issues.” Although the previously mentioned Bura Gallery serves as a satellite venue, it is a crucial curatorial decision to include four to five Roma-origin artists in the main exhibition. More than being a statement, it actively challenges the constant “othering” of Roma artists. It serves as an important continuation of the previous edition’s monumental standalone piece, Birth by Tamás Péli¹², this time also showcasing the younger generation.

Norbert Oláh, one of the founders of Bura Gallery, recently formed, along with two other artists, the ironic yet scandalous group called Gypsy Criminals. Their figurative paintings of superheroes function like manifestos, presenting anachronistic, absurd sentences about the illiberal system in Hungary¹³. Dóra Galyas Denerak’s series Hello Father (2023–) consists of intimate photographs, as well as a 35mm film, which tells the personal story of a father and daughter’s reconnection. The works, partly based on her father’s re-enactment of certain performative, musical, and dance-like gestures, examine and rewrite cultural stereotypes from a personal level.

Another strong theme downstairs, is the queer positions in Hungary and the Central Eastern European region. Gideon Horváth’s new commission, The Most Dangerous Person (2025), comprises a film, a series of beautifully sculpted porcelain sculptures, and a series of publications. The project investigates the often overlooked situation of LGBTQ+ people who do not live in Budapest or other big cities. The five interviews are striking dialogues where people from small villages or towns open up, perhaps for the first time, about their “otherness” and how they feel about it. The porcelain sculptures are almost abstract renderings of recurring motifs from the interviews.

In his installation, Shelter (2024) and Shelter – Poems of Unrest (2024), Robert Gabris slowly becomes a non-human entity, one of the (real or imaginary) insects, alluding to the overcoming of negative connotations associated with bugs. The project focuses on their resilient strategies and the various methods they use to protect themselves. Opposite to Kafka’s creature, these insects help us learn about security, protection, participatory practices, and collaboration, as they often have to become resilient against their oppressors. Gabris’s metaphor is conveyed through delicate drawings, costumes, objects, and performance documentation, all viewed from a handcrafted swing.

The non-human perspective and the focus on the land continue in another location. In the former CEU University’s Open Gallery, the exhibition Traces of Life¹⁴ is curated by Katalin Székely and Borbála Soós, interrogating the interdependence of human and non-human life and exploring their intersections and possible rights. OFF Seed Library – Seeds of Tomorrow is also presented here, as well as a newer short video No Traces of Life: Israel’s Ecocide in Gaza (2023–24) by Forensic Architecture which presents, in their investigative documentary style, evidence of how Israeli military interventions and the war destroy the land and soil in Gaza, making agricultural work impossible.

On both floors in Merlin, the themes of the omnipresence of war, aggression, and terror take center stage. These works are poetic, focusing on the personal and collective effects of war. Dominika Kownyia’s striking figurative painting Forest (2023), referencing people hiding on the Belarus-Polish border, feature vulnerable, fragmented figures; Ukrainian Kateryna Aliinyk’s almost surreal paintings of barren, bombed lands like Death on a Summer Afternoon, (2024); Kader Attia’s broken but now repaired plate Untitled (2020); as well as Róza El-Hassan’s new site-specific drawing Reconciled Parties (2025), emphasizing peaceful and non-violent strategies, speak about the fragility of human life, the incomprehensibility of current wars around us, and attempts to reach peace and freedom.

In the exhibition titled Emergency Frequencies¹⁵ curated by Katalin Székely and Veronika Molnár located at Bakáts Bunker Underground Cultural Space, a former bunker, all artworks address the semantics of war, military occupation, present-day weapons, and the politics behind current totalitarian oppressive systems alongside a historical photo series documenting the WWII siege of Budapest (from the OSA Archivum). With a special focus on how sound and noise play a considerable role in military tactics, the works in this exhibition explore how weapons and militarisation are utilised as means to enhance a sense of “security”, as governments claim, yet ultimately fail, creating a threat instead of safety.

Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s video The Sounds of Cannons, Familiar Like Sad Refrains (2021) presents the perspective of an unexploded bomb in Vietnam, drastically shifting the perspective from victims and perpetrators to the “tool” of destruction. Repeat After Me (2024), by Open Group, installed perfectly in the underground cellar of the Bunker speaks directly and emotionally about the everyday reality of the ongoing war in Ukraine – how each person perceives the sounds of sirens, bombs, and guns. The karaoke setting creates an uncanny atmosphere, confronting viewers with the request: repeat after the Ukrainian citizens the various sounds they imitate. In the bunker, there is also Rumble (2025), a new commission by Hungarian artist Tamás Páll, a cryptic speculative video that presents an imaginary cult living in lithium mines, highlighting the digital aspects of warfare and surveillance systems.

On the second floor of Merlin, a broader theme of feminist practices unfolds, further elaborated in two other venues: a private apartment on Koszorú Street and the József Ernyey Pharmaceutical History Library – Semmelweis Medical History Museum (currently closed to the public). The highlight of this venue – and perhaps the entire biennale – is the Irish artist duo Rachel Fallon and Alice Maher’s monumental piece The Map. Measuring 6.5 x 4 metres, this textile installation/sculpture is displayed with its back facing the viewer, so initially, visitors see only a black surface. When they find the front, The Map invites viewers to spend many minutes “reading” and deciphering its intricate details. The artists worked on this project for three years, using critical cartography as a starting point alongside the life, legacy, and mythology of Mary Magdalene.

The hand-embroidered and hand-sewn piece reflects on the centuries-long oppression of women, the various stereotypes, prejudices, and misogynist tendencies women and those who identify as women have endured. The various islands and terrains sewn onto the “map” mark different fields – housework, marriage, education, free love – where women were objectified and oppressed. The artist duo also reflects on the infamous Magdalene Laundries – places operated from the 18th century to the late 20th century by the Catholic Church in Ireland, housing “fallen women” who were forced to perform exploitative and abusive labor.

Connected to this theme, it’s worth mentioning new commissions in Merlin and another location in the 8th district, within the exhibition titled The Day After Tomorrow, Everything Will Change¹⁶ curated by Kata Oltai. Dominika Trapp’s large-scale aqua-charcoal drawings, I’m splitting like the world (2025), continue her long-term research into the oppression of women, including obstetric violence in Hungary. This time, she discusses the situation of women who, amid multiple ongoing crises, hesitate whether to have children or not. This stands in stark contrast to Hungary’s current “family-friendly” policies, which encourage women to fulfil their “only real” role as mothers. Trapp’s drawings, consisting of waves and plant/organ-shaped structures, are abstract yet sensual representations of how women perceive their bodies, fertility, and the difficult decisions they face regarding reproduction.

Another notable unexpected highlight is Dorottya Szonja Koltay’s installation, which appears both in Merlin and in the private apartment in Koszorú Street as part of the The Day After Tomorrow: Everything Will Change exhibition. Her works focus on systematic injustices towards women. One of her new/ comissioned installations, exhibited in the private apartment HolnAPUtán eljön értem apu tán, roughly translated as ‘maybe tomorrow daddy will pick me up’, deals starkly with the abuses of power by parents, bosses, or the police. Her drawings on the walls, poems written on mirrors, and short videos openly discuss domestic violence, sexual abuse in the family, and situations where the family fails as a safety net. The works also touch on prostitution and sex work – activities historically associated with this part of the 8th district, but rarely publicly discussed and still heavily stigmatized.

The overall concept of the two locations – the private apartment on Koszorú Street and the József Ernyey Pharmaceutical History Library (which belongs to the Semmelweis Medical History Museum, and is currently closed to the public) for The Day After Tomorrow refers to the difficulty or impossibility of societal structural change regarding women’s rights, opportunities, and recognition of their bodies, lives, and professions. Showcasing emerging and mid-career Hungarian women artists, many of whom the curator has previously worked with, the exhibition asks: “In the constantly reshaping battlefields, how do women respond, negotiate, and attempt to expand the narrow paths offered by patriarchy? How do they navigate private and public spaces, and the various systems of oppression, all while holding onto hope for a better future? Do individual bargains lead to a collective solution, or has that dimension been lost? Tomorrow is still tangible, but will the day after tomorrow come?”¹⁷

In the former pharmacy, alongside site-specific works and interventions – such as Zsófia Nóra Demeter’s fragile pieces incorporating hair and evoking bodily fluids, or Boglárka Dankó’s large patchwork textiles reinterpreting mythological and folktale figures – visitors encounter a curated selection of archival objects and documents related to reproductive rights, fertility, menstruation, contraception, and STDs. It’s fascinating to delve into the material heritage of how early 20th-century society addressed women’s bodies, and these artworks create a compelling dialogue with the historical collection. The rare opportunity to enter these semi-private, semi-public spaces, and the pairing of the former pharmacy with the apartment, work remarkably well in the biennale setting.

Returning briefly to Merlin, it’s essential to mention Flo Keserue’s seemingly unassuming barren flowerpots Violence grows slowly (2021–25), which also touch on the issues above and can be seen as a “memorial” dedicated to victims of domestic (sexual) violence, with the dried plants symbolizing society’s indifference and carelessness.

As the exhibition moves toward highlighting queer artistic positions, we first encounter Raised by Touch, 1996–2010, a series of self-portraits by Anna Daučíková. The artist challenges gender labels and identity categories; here, they appear pressed against glass sheets, making their breasts disappear. Daučíková’s queer practice focusing a lot on langauage and semantics is further elaborated at Trafó Gallery, in a solo exhibition curated by Lívia Páldi¹⁸. Later, Zanele Muholi’s self-portraits, titled Nomalandi Wenda Parktown (2016), strikingly capture resistance to South Africa’s homophobic society, incorporating traditional motifs as well as objects reflecting late capitalism.

In this edition, the accompanying public programs (public program curator and coordinator: Borka Csejdy, with Mediation program curator and coordinator: Tímea Török) are more diverse and inclusive than before, involving experts, NGOs, educators, and other stakeholders.

OFF-Biennale’s special emphasis on outreach culminates in the community architecture project for Kálvária Square, also in the 8th district, a collaboration with Recetas Urbanas – an international collective of architects and activists led by Santiago Cirugeda and Alice Attout. This year, the AllinOne¹⁹ project curated by Nikolett Erőss, Rita Kálmán, and Eszter Lázár aims to organise various events and public programs at Kálvária Square – a dense and busy spot in the 8th district that connects diverse people and communities – while activating the existing public installation created in collaboration with Hungarian architects and volunteers.

As the curators summarize: “The project reflects on the accessibility of our public spaces while exploring the notion of security through public, dialogical situations. Taking the site’s characteristics as a starting point, participants will not only jointly design and build a structure for community use but also define its function and operation, ensuring its long-term integration into public space.”²⁰ Games, workshops, lectures, roundtable discussions, and children’s programs are held several times per week (and will happen until the end of summer) to connect people in the district, foster new relationships, and introduce the collaborative and solidarity aspects of art, architecture, and design.

OFF-Biennale Budapest has always been known for its self-reflection and mutability, changing and adapting from edition to edition. Despite growing unrest and difficulties in the country, the biennale highlights how art can and should create change. Poems of Unrest is a crucial imprint of our present struggles, maintaining a hopeful tone about solidarity. It is up to us whether we recognize our potential to form new alliances and relationships amidst the chaos.