Volkskundemuseum Wien
Otto Wagner Areal, Pavillon 1
Baumgartner Höhe 1, 1140 Wien
Öffnungszeiten:
Di-Fr: 10-17 Uhr
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Postanschrift:
Laudongasse 15-19, 1080 Wien
T: +43 1 406 89 05
F: +43 1 406 89 05.88
E: office@volkskundemuseum.at
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How did you first learn about the Hof der Kulturen (HdK) residency?
Dunia Sahir: I am not sure exactly if I knew about HdK directly before the open call for the residency was published, but I definitely knew about Volkskundemuseum since a bit and have been a big fan. I was one of the kültüř gemma! residents in 2024 and we would often meet in the beautiful yard of the Volkskundemuseum to discuss our process. Some of the people at the core of kültüř gemma! curated the festival MEZEKƎRƎ in September 2024 and us fellows had the pleasure to show our works at the venues of old Volkskundemuseum. That is also how I met some of the people of the team at the museum and started following their work closer. One of them was Fabian, who curates the HdK!
Mariochukwu Gilbert: I learned about the residency through a friend who shared the open call with me. What immediately struck me was that it wasn’t just an artistic residency; it was framed as a cultural dialogue. That felt important to me, because my own work has always existed at the intersection of art, food, and migration stories.
Rimon Alyagon Darr: A friend from the glass world sent me the open call post on Instagram.
Chingis Azydov: My flatmate saw the call for applications on Instagram and sent it to me. As soon as I read it, I knew I had to apply—it was exactly what I needed to continue my felting journey.
What were your expectations before beginning your six-month residency?
Rimon: Honestly, I came with very open expectations as I didn’t know what to expect. I was hoping to have other craftspeople around to get inspired by.
Chingis: I was expecting to get a big suitable table, spacious working room and other stuff required for my work.
Mariochukwu: I expected to be challenged. I knew stepping into this residency would push me out of my comfort zone, asking me to slow down and reflect. My hope was to create work that not only represents my culture, but also speaks across borders to people who may have never tasted, smelled, or felt what Afro-Fusion means.
What attracted you most to this particular project?
Rimon: I found the project’s approach truly honouring to craft by viewing it as a living, evolving entity. It raised many questions in my mind, such as: What does local craftsmanship mean in a globalized world? How does it relate to immigration? What do craftspeople from different disciplines have in common?
Chingis: For me, it was a chance to bring to life the ideas I had envisioned over the past few years—to experiment with new techniques and, most importantly, to connect with fellow artisans and artists, learning something new from each of them.
Dunia: Certainly, one of the main factors is the opportunity this project offers. Crafts are often left behind in numerous cultural and artistic institutions. I have witnessed with great sadness how craftspeople, who are the ones with the actual practical knowledge and the ability to speak to and through the material, are sidelined to prioritize solo artist egos. I never thought I would be able to take so much time and get so much space to be allowed to slowly learn the art of tile-making. Becoming a craftsperson takes decades of mastering all the skills of handling a single material. Time and space are the fundamental components in any crafted creation.
Could you briefly describe your craft or practice? How does it relate to the museum’s collections (e.g. food culture, glass, felt, furniture, photography and clothing)?
Dunia: Describing it briefly wouldn’t give “Zellij” its justice! This is a tile and mosaic making technique that originated during the Islamic golden age as geometry, mathematics, astronomy, crafts and spirituality merged to create intricate works of incredible beauty. The tradition I am following comes from Al-Andalus and is still practiced in modern-day Morocco, especially in the city of Fes. During my stay in Morocco in early 2025, while I was investigating the mysterious past of my family, I started learning the art of Zellij from its masters and through the HdK residency I had the opportunity to continue acquiring this skill once back in Vienna.
Rimon: I am a glassblower and sculptor. Material crafts play a significant role in the VKM collection, though the glass collection itself is relatively small. Within it, I was particularly drawn to the uranium glass collection, which glows under UV light and is no longer manufactured in the EU due to the radiation it emits. I was also fascinated by the Scherzgefäße collection—a set of drinking vessels designed to bring joy or laughter to the drinker and those around them. Some of the pieces struck me as hilarious, others as puzzling, and I thoroughly enjoyed creating work inspired by this part of the museum’s collection.
Chingis: I make traditional Oirat-Kalmyk felt rugs called “Shirdeg”, as well as carpets and art objects from felt. When creating a Shirdeg rug, I quilt two pieces of felt together using wool thread. The stitched lines form geometric patterns or other traditional ornaments.
I also create felt artworks that depict anthropomorphic motifs, symbols, and other designs, which I consider more as wall decorations. One of the themes I depict is the “Ongon”—a representation of ancestral spirits in Mongolian folk belief systems, such as Shamanism.
Unfortunately, there are only a few felt items in the Volkskundemuseum collection, and they are not closely related to my work. However, we did find metal human votive figures in the collection, which share some similarities with the tradition of making Ongons, especially in a broader cultural context.
Mariochukwu: I work with Afro-Fusion food as both a culinary and artistic medium. Food for me is memory, migration, and resistance on a plate. My practice relates to the museum’s collections because it reimagines food culture as heritage just like glass, clothing, or photography. Dishes become objects of memory and storytelling, preserving what is often invisible in archives: the taste of home.
How do you use the shared studios in Pavilion 1? Do you collaborate with others, host workshops, or mainly work independently?
Rimon: I use the workshops at Pavilion 1 as my solo creating studio space, as a place to gather inspiration from the works of fellow residents and thoughts of the museum staff, and as a place to host workshops and collaborative events. The fact that there are four residents brought a lot of interesting happenings into the studios and I felt deeply grateful for the opportunity to observe and learn from other craftpeople’s work processes.
Chingis: I mainly work independently, focusing on bringing my creative ideas to life. While I am open to leading workshops (and have already hosted two), my main priority is to practice felting myself.
What role does exchange with the other residents play in your daily experience?
Mariochukwu: Exchange has been essential. Sharing a studio space means ideas naturally spill into one another’s work. I’ve found myself inspired by materials I don’t typically use—such as photography, textiles, and sound installations—while also contributing through food narratives and performance.
Dunia: I have learned plenty from my fellow residents, but also from the members of the jury. It is rare and priceless to have such an involved team that supports you, shares knowledge and advice. I feel and hope this experience will bond us in the long term as well.
If you participated in any public programs, such as workshops, Q&A sessions, or the Open Days—what was your experience like? Was there a particular highlight?
Mariochukwu: I hosted a workshop where we cooked together and discussed “absent ingredients”—those flavours that migrants often struggle to find in Austria. The conversations that unfolded over the chopping board were as rich and meaningful as the food we prepared. My highlight was witnessing visitors connect their own migration stories—whether from Turkey, the Balkans, or Syria—with my own.
Rimon: I especially enjoyed the children’s workshop during the Open Days. Children approach materials with such curiosity, and their unexpected questions often spark new ideas that influence my own practice. It was also wonderful to observe parents co-creating alongside their children. Another insight was how much people of all ages enjoy playing, creating, and working with their hands—this kind of hands-on engagement naturally fosters open conversation throughout the process.
The Hof der Kulturen started from the idea of a “post-migrant museum”. What does that mean to you?
Dunia: I have to be honest: I usually feel deeply uneasy in museums and similar institutions, especially in Vienna. Racism in this country is so normalized that it often goes unchallenged. A glance at the Archive of Austrian Repression and Complicity reveals the extent of systemic censorship at play.
That said, I am genuinely encouraged to see efforts being made to push back against these xenophobic practices—though I recognize how difficult that work must be. The state continues to withhold funding from programs and projects that dare to prioritize inclusivity.
Mariochukwu: To me, a post-migrant museum is one that doesn’t freeze migration into the past tense. It recognizes that migration is ongoing, shaping what Austria is today and what it will become tomorrow. It’s about moving beyond tokenism into a space where diversity is the foundation, not the exception.
Chingis: I think this is a fantastic and important initiative. A museum like this will help people better understand those from different parts of the world and learn about their cultural backgrounds—especially since so many migrant communities in Vienna remain largely overlooked.
In what ways does your work reflect themes of migration, diversity, or community?
Mariochukwu: Every dish I create is layered with migration. The absence of familiar ingredients in Vienna forces adaptation—a process that mirrors how migrants reshape themselves in new environments. Diversity emerges through fusion: Nigerian jollof rice meets Austrian Sauerkraut, and a new story is born. Community reveals itself whenever people gather at my table and discover they share more than they ever imagined.
Dunia: I am particularly interested in crafts for their collective nature. While we often imagine craftspeople as solitary figures working alone in their workshops—and this may sometimes be the case—large, intricate projects, such as those involving Zellij, typically require a team of skilled masters. Each person plays a crucial role in their specific part of the process, relying on the trust that everyone will execute their task with precision and care. Often, the final product is a collaboration of artifacts from multiple crafts and workshops.
Rimon: Since I work with glass received from others as raw material, the material itself carries stories—of its past owners, its manufacturing methods and chemical composition, and the circumstances that led to it being discarded or given away. I really like working with these fragments of other life stories and material histories.
The glass often originates in one place, is processed in another, and then sits in storage in yet another location before it reaches me. The material I receive is rich with migration, layered with stories of class, status, families, and communities. It finds its way to me thanks to my own community, who alert me whenever there is glass waiting to be rescued from storage.
Chingis: My work is mainly connected to the vanishing Oirat-Kalmyk culture, focusing on lost traditions and beliefs. One of my key aims is to revive the traditional craft of felt rug making. In Kalmykia—where I come from and where I began working with felt in 2013—this tradition largely disappeared during Soviet times.
Exhibiting these felt rugs in Vienna is a meaningful way to raise awareness of the culture and history of my people, who were traditionally nomadic. For centuries, handmade felt rugs accompanied them on their migrations between Inner Asia and Eastern Europe.
How has the residency impacted your practice, professionally or personally?
Dunia: This is the first time I have had my own studio outside of university. It is an incredible feeling to have a space that you can shape—alone or with others who share the same passions. The most significant impact has definitely been the ability to dedicate time to an artistic process that I would otherwise never have been able to pursue or afford.
Mariochukwu: The residency has given me the space to treat my food practice as art, not just gastronomy. I’ve learned to slow down, to frame food as heritage and resistance, and to engage with people who may not normally step into a kitchen but find resonance in its stories. Personally, it’s deepened my confidence that food can stand in museums as much as paintings or sculptures.
Are there ideas, methods, or collaborations you plan to continue after the residency ends?
Mariochukwu: Yes. I want to continue building on the workshops, especially around “invisible ingredients”. I also see potential for cross-disciplinary collaborations imagine pairing Afro-Fusion food with textile artists or sound designers. These conversations shouldn’t stop with the residency.
What role do you think the Hof der Kulturen could play once it becomes a permanent institution back in the main building in Laudongasse?
Chingis: I believe the Hof der Kulturen is a great and important project that has the potential to become one of the main attractions at the Volkskundemuseum Wien. It’s not only a place that preserves the memory of traditional crafts, but also one that helps keep them alive—making it a place truly worth visiting and exploring.
Mariochukwu: It could become Austria’s most important bridge between cultures. A place where migrant stories are not just tolerated but celebrated, and where collections grow not from colonial nostalgia but from lived, shared experience.
What advice would you give to future residents of the Hof der Kulturen?
Mariochukwu Gilbert: Come with an open plate. Be ready to share, to taste, and to listen. The magic of this residency lies not in isolation, but in exchange—so leave room for surprise.
Chingis Azydov: I would add: create more and enjoy the process.
Questions asked by Johanna Amlinger and Gesine Stern.
Dunia Sahir: Is a Slovenian/Italian-Moroccan research-led artist and scientist based in Vienna, who works with several mediums to investigate practices of knowledge-making, emphasizing the importance of emotions, memory, and ancestral knowledge in the process. Their poetic inquiries tackle established boundaries to confront the passively accepted limitations they impose. Dunia’s work often crosses these boundaries to highlight their irony. Combining a profound knowledge of natural sciences with theoretical and geopolitical analysis, as well as history, Dunia focuses on intuition and the stickiness of embodied feeling and sense-making that intertwines all of these fields.
Rimon Alyagon Darr is a glass blower, sculptor and a researcher. She approaches glass while addressing its amorphic qualities, viewing them as a form of memory keeping, and researches questions that relate to teamwork and co-movement and human-material engagement in the crafts. She is a member of Design in Gesellschaft, and a member of the Creative Conversations with Crafts international research team. She has former education in Glass Design and Cognitive Neuroscience.
Chingis Azydov is an ethnographer and felt craft artisan from Kalmykia. Having taught himself the craft of felting in 2013, he is reviving the once-vanished tradition of making Oirat-Kalmyk felt rugs, known as Shirdeg. Alongside this traditional practice, Chingis Azydov also explores contemporary art, experimenting with various techniques. His work is rooted in traditional beliefs and motifs, anthropomorphic ornaments, and memories of the past. In 2018, he was awarded first prize and a medal at the “Oirad Tumen” International Folk Festival in the category of “Best Traditional Craft Souvenir.” Since 2018, he has been based in Vienna, where his main occupation is academic work with the Commission for Vanishing Languages and Cultural Heritage at the Austrian Academy of Sciences. You can see more of his work and get in touch via Instagram: @tamga_art.
Mariochukwu Gilbert is a Nigerian culinary artist based in Austria. His journey has been a fusion of cultural experiences and artistic expressions, culminating in a passion for Afro-fusion cuisine. Upon relocating to Austria in 2002 as an asylum seeker, he immersed in the local hip hop scene, using music and poetry to address social issues and empower listeners. However, his commitment to fostering community and celebrating cultural diversity led him to transform his craft. He has 18years of experience working as a kitchen helper and assistant cook, he has honed my culinary skills. In 2024, he made the pivotal decision to leave his position to fully channel his experience and creativity into Afro-fusion cuisine.
Learn more about the project Hof der Kulturen
Dunia Sahir: I am not sure exactly if I knew about HdK directly before the open call for the residency was published, but I definitely knew about Volkskundemuseum since a bit and have been a big fan. I was one of the kültüř gemma! residents in 2024 and we would often meet in the beautiful yard of the Volkskundemuseum to discuss our process. Some of the people at the core of kültüř gemma! curated the festival MEZEKƎRƎ in September 2024 and us fellows had the pleasure to show our works at the venues of old Volkskundemuseum. That is also how I met some of the people of the team at the museum and started following their work closer. One of them was Fabian, who curates the HdK!
Mariochukwu Gilbert: I learned about the residency through a friend who shared the open call with me. What immediately struck me was that it wasn’t just an artistic residency; it was framed as a cultural dialogue. That felt important to me, because my own work has always existed at the intersection of art, food, and migration stories.
Rimon Alyagon Darr: A friend from the glass world sent me the open call post on Instagram.
Chingis Azydov: My flatmate saw the call for applications on Instagram and sent it to me. As soon as I read it, I knew I had to apply—it was exactly what I needed to continue my felting journey.
What were your expectations before beginning your six-month residency?
Rimon: Honestly, I came with very open expectations as I didn’t know what to expect. I was hoping to have other craftspeople around to get inspired by.
Chingis: I was expecting to get a big suitable table, spacious working room and other stuff required for my work.
Mariochukwu: I expected to be challenged. I knew stepping into this residency would push me out of my comfort zone, asking me to slow down and reflect. My hope was to create work that not only represents my culture, but also speaks across borders to people who may have never tasted, smelled, or felt what Afro-Fusion means.
What attracted you most to this particular project?
Rimon: I found the project’s approach truly honouring to craft by viewing it as a living, evolving entity. It raised many questions in my mind, such as: What does local craftsmanship mean in a globalized world? How does it relate to immigration? What do craftspeople from different disciplines have in common?
Chingis: For me, it was a chance to bring to life the ideas I had envisioned over the past few years—to experiment with new techniques and, most importantly, to connect with fellow artisans and artists, learning something new from each of them.
Dunia: Certainly, one of the main factors is the opportunity this project offers. Crafts are often left behind in numerous cultural and artistic institutions. I have witnessed with great sadness how craftspeople, who are the ones with the actual practical knowledge and the ability to speak to and through the material, are sidelined to prioritize solo artist egos. I never thought I would be able to take so much time and get so much space to be allowed to slowly learn the art of tile-making. Becoming a craftsperson takes decades of mastering all the skills of handling a single material. Time and space are the fundamental components in any crafted creation.
Could you briefly describe your craft or practice? How does it relate to the museum’s collections (e.g. food culture, glass, felt, furniture, photography and clothing)?
Dunia: Describing it briefly wouldn’t give “Zellij” its justice! This is a tile and mosaic making technique that originated during the Islamic golden age as geometry, mathematics, astronomy, crafts and spirituality merged to create intricate works of incredible beauty. The tradition I am following comes from Al-Andalus and is still practiced in modern-day Morocco, especially in the city of Fes. During my stay in Morocco in early 2025, while I was investigating the mysterious past of my family, I started learning the art of Zellij from its masters and through the HdK residency I had the opportunity to continue acquiring this skill once back in Vienna.
Rimon: I am a glassblower and sculptor. Material crafts play a significant role in the VKM collection, though the glass collection itself is relatively small. Within it, I was particularly drawn to the uranium glass collection, which glows under UV light and is no longer manufactured in the EU due to the radiation it emits. I was also fascinated by the Scherzgefäße collection—a set of drinking vessels designed to bring joy or laughter to the drinker and those around them. Some of the pieces struck me as hilarious, others as puzzling, and I thoroughly enjoyed creating work inspired by this part of the museum’s collection.
Chingis: I make traditional Oirat-Kalmyk felt rugs called “Shirdeg”, as well as carpets and art objects from felt. When creating a Shirdeg rug, I quilt two pieces of felt together using wool thread. The stitched lines form geometric patterns or other traditional ornaments.
I also create felt artworks that depict anthropomorphic motifs, symbols, and other designs, which I consider more as wall decorations. One of the themes I depict is the “Ongon”—a representation of ancestral spirits in Mongolian folk belief systems, such as Shamanism.
Unfortunately, there are only a few felt items in the Volkskundemuseum collection, and they are not closely related to my work. However, we did find metal human votive figures in the collection, which share some similarities with the tradition of making Ongons, especially in a broader cultural context.
Mariochukwu: I work with Afro-Fusion food as both a culinary and artistic medium. Food for me is memory, migration, and resistance on a plate. My practice relates to the museum’s collections because it reimagines food culture as heritage just like glass, clothing, or photography. Dishes become objects of memory and storytelling, preserving what is often invisible in archives: the taste of home.
How do you use the shared studios in Pavilion 1? Do you collaborate with others, host workshops, or mainly work independently?
Rimon: I use the workshops at Pavilion 1 as my solo creating studio space, as a place to gather inspiration from the works of fellow residents and thoughts of the museum staff, and as a place to host workshops and collaborative events. The fact that there are four residents brought a lot of interesting happenings into the studios and I felt deeply grateful for the opportunity to observe and learn from other craftpeople’s work processes.
Chingis: I mainly work independently, focusing on bringing my creative ideas to life. While I am open to leading workshops (and have already hosted two), my main priority is to practice felting myself.
What role does exchange with the other residents play in your daily experience?
Mariochukwu: Exchange has been essential. Sharing a studio space means ideas naturally spill into one another’s work. I’ve found myself inspired by materials I don’t typically use—such as photography, textiles, and sound installations—while also contributing through food narratives and performance.
Dunia: I have learned plenty from my fellow residents, but also from the members of the jury. It is rare and priceless to have such an involved team that supports you, shares knowledge and advice. I feel and hope this experience will bond us in the long term as well.
If you participated in any public programs, such as workshops, Q&A sessions, or the Open Days—what was your experience like? Was there a particular highlight?
Mariochukwu: I hosted a workshop where we cooked together and discussed “absent ingredients”—those flavours that migrants often struggle to find in Austria. The conversations that unfolded over the chopping board were as rich and meaningful as the food we prepared. My highlight was witnessing visitors connect their own migration stories—whether from Turkey, the Balkans, or Syria—with my own.
Rimon: I especially enjoyed the children’s workshop during the Open Days. Children approach materials with such curiosity, and their unexpected questions often spark new ideas that influence my own practice. It was also wonderful to observe parents co-creating alongside their children. Another insight was how much people of all ages enjoy playing, creating, and working with their hands—this kind of hands-on engagement naturally fosters open conversation throughout the process.
The Hof der Kulturen started from the idea of a “post-migrant museum”. What does that mean to you?
Dunia: I have to be honest: I usually feel deeply uneasy in museums and similar institutions, especially in Vienna. Racism in this country is so normalized that it often goes unchallenged. A glance at the Archive of Austrian Repression and Complicity reveals the extent of systemic censorship at play.
That said, I am genuinely encouraged to see efforts being made to push back against these xenophobic practices—though I recognize how difficult that work must be. The state continues to withhold funding from programs and projects that dare to prioritize inclusivity.
Mariochukwu: To me, a post-migrant museum is one that doesn’t freeze migration into the past tense. It recognizes that migration is ongoing, shaping what Austria is today and what it will become tomorrow. It’s about moving beyond tokenism into a space where diversity is the foundation, not the exception.
Chingis: I think this is a fantastic and important initiative. A museum like this will help people better understand those from different parts of the world and learn about their cultural backgrounds—especially since so many migrant communities in Vienna remain largely overlooked.
In what ways does your work reflect themes of migration, diversity, or community?
Mariochukwu: Every dish I create is layered with migration. The absence of familiar ingredients in Vienna forces adaptation—a process that mirrors how migrants reshape themselves in new environments. Diversity emerges through fusion: Nigerian jollof rice meets Austrian Sauerkraut, and a new story is born. Community reveals itself whenever people gather at my table and discover they share more than they ever imagined.
Dunia: I am particularly interested in crafts for their collective nature. While we often imagine craftspeople as solitary figures working alone in their workshops—and this may sometimes be the case—large, intricate projects, such as those involving Zellij, typically require a team of skilled masters. Each person plays a crucial role in their specific part of the process, relying on the trust that everyone will execute their task with precision and care. Often, the final product is a collaboration of artifacts from multiple crafts and workshops.
Rimon: Since I work with glass received from others as raw material, the material itself carries stories—of its past owners, its manufacturing methods and chemical composition, and the circumstances that led to it being discarded or given away. I really like working with these fragments of other life stories and material histories.
The glass often originates in one place, is processed in another, and then sits in storage in yet another location before it reaches me. The material I receive is rich with migration, layered with stories of class, status, families, and communities. It finds its way to me thanks to my own community, who alert me whenever there is glass waiting to be rescued from storage.
Chingis: My work is mainly connected to the vanishing Oirat-Kalmyk culture, focusing on lost traditions and beliefs. One of my key aims is to revive the traditional craft of felt rug making. In Kalmykia—where I come from and where I began working with felt in 2013—this tradition largely disappeared during Soviet times.
Exhibiting these felt rugs in Vienna is a meaningful way to raise awareness of the culture and history of my people, who were traditionally nomadic. For centuries, handmade felt rugs accompanied them on their migrations between Inner Asia and Eastern Europe.
How has the residency impacted your practice, professionally or personally?
Dunia: This is the first time I have had my own studio outside of university. It is an incredible feeling to have a space that you can shape—alone or with others who share the same passions. The most significant impact has definitely been the ability to dedicate time to an artistic process that I would otherwise never have been able to pursue or afford.
Mariochukwu: The residency has given me the space to treat my food practice as art, not just gastronomy. I’ve learned to slow down, to frame food as heritage and resistance, and to engage with people who may not normally step into a kitchen but find resonance in its stories. Personally, it’s deepened my confidence that food can stand in museums as much as paintings or sculptures.
Are there ideas, methods, or collaborations you plan to continue after the residency ends?
Mariochukwu: Yes. I want to continue building on the workshops, especially around “invisible ingredients”. I also see potential for cross-disciplinary collaborations imagine pairing Afro-Fusion food with textile artists or sound designers. These conversations shouldn’t stop with the residency.
What role do you think the Hof der Kulturen could play once it becomes a permanent institution back in the main building in Laudongasse?
Chingis: I believe the Hof der Kulturen is a great and important project that has the potential to become one of the main attractions at the Volkskundemuseum Wien. It’s not only a place that preserves the memory of traditional crafts, but also one that helps keep them alive—making it a place truly worth visiting and exploring.
Mariochukwu: It could become Austria’s most important bridge between cultures. A place where migrant stories are not just tolerated but celebrated, and where collections grow not from colonial nostalgia but from lived, shared experience.
What advice would you give to future residents of the Hof der Kulturen?
Mariochukwu Gilbert: Come with an open plate. Be ready to share, to taste, and to listen. The magic of this residency lies not in isolation, but in exchange—so leave room for surprise.
Chingis Azydov: I would add: create more and enjoy the process.
Questions asked by Johanna Amlinger and Gesine Stern.
Dunia Sahir: Is a Slovenian/Italian-Moroccan research-led artist and scientist based in Vienna, who works with several mediums to investigate practices of knowledge-making, emphasizing the importance of emotions, memory, and ancestral knowledge in the process. Their poetic inquiries tackle established boundaries to confront the passively accepted limitations they impose. Dunia’s work often crosses these boundaries to highlight their irony. Combining a profound knowledge of natural sciences with theoretical and geopolitical analysis, as well as history, Dunia focuses on intuition and the stickiness of embodied feeling and sense-making that intertwines all of these fields.
Rimon Alyagon Darr is a glass blower, sculptor and a researcher. She approaches glass while addressing its amorphic qualities, viewing them as a form of memory keeping, and researches questions that relate to teamwork and co-movement and human-material engagement in the crafts. She is a member of Design in Gesellschaft, and a member of the Creative Conversations with Crafts international research team. She has former education in Glass Design and Cognitive Neuroscience.
Chingis Azydov is an ethnographer and felt craft artisan from Kalmykia. Having taught himself the craft of felting in 2013, he is reviving the once-vanished tradition of making Oirat-Kalmyk felt rugs, known as Shirdeg. Alongside this traditional practice, Chingis Azydov also explores contemporary art, experimenting with various techniques. His work is rooted in traditional beliefs and motifs, anthropomorphic ornaments, and memories of the past. In 2018, he was awarded first prize and a medal at the “Oirad Tumen” International Folk Festival in the category of “Best Traditional Craft Souvenir.” Since 2018, he has been based in Vienna, where his main occupation is academic work with the Commission for Vanishing Languages and Cultural Heritage at the Austrian Academy of Sciences. You can see more of his work and get in touch via Instagram: @tamga_art.
Mariochukwu Gilbert is a Nigerian culinary artist based in Austria. His journey has been a fusion of cultural experiences and artistic expressions, culminating in a passion for Afro-fusion cuisine. Upon relocating to Austria in 2002 as an asylum seeker, he immersed in the local hip hop scene, using music and poetry to address social issues and empower listeners. However, his commitment to fostering community and celebrating cultural diversity led him to transform his craft. He has 18years of experience working as a kitchen helper and assistant cook, he has honed my culinary skills. In 2024, he made the pivotal decision to leave his position to fully channel his experience and creativity into Afro-fusion cuisine.
Learn more about the project Hof der Kulturen
