10 July 2024 l Marcin Dudek shows his view of soccer at the Dortmunder U. The Polish artist was once part of the Krakow hooligan scene. What are his impressions of the European Championships? A conversation about national pride, commerce and the spirit of the game.
Caroline Seidel, Museum Ostwall im Dortmunder U
Daniela Berglehn: Marcin Dudek, art and soccer are not just a topic for you because of the European Championships, right?
Marcin Dudek: My interest in soccer and the hooligan scene stems from my biography. I grew up in a housing estate on the outskirts of Krakow in the 1990s. Being a hooligan became my identity and was the answer to a brutal social reality. There were no other options, and certainly no art. When a friend died and I received a suspended sentence, I started to reflect on these experiences. Now art is my association, and my work is always also a piece of memory work.
You use objects from the scene or from the stadium for your collages and installations. How do these elements work in an art context?
I work with the signs and rituals of the scene, but I don't make hooligan art. I'm interested in the structures behind them: How do people organize themselves? How do they come together? Coming together, merging into the group, that's the beauty of it. Then there's the escalation, the violence. And in between is that moment when you don't know what's going to happen. Where anything is possible. Take the bomber jacket with the orange lining, for example. A military jacket, a uniform, and charged with meaning in itself. The jacket is turned inside out before actions. The crowd turns orange, and it goes through the stadium like a wave - it's a fascinating image. In my performances, I give it a new, aesthetic dimension. The orange smoke signals: Something is happening here. It creates a moment of disorientation, but it also offers protection - it's about hiding and showing yourself. This ambivalence makes it exciting.
The atmosphere surrounding the European Championships is also ambivalent: national pride and extreme political positions such as the wolf salute by a Turkish player and fans clash with the idea of an open and diverse Europe. How do you experience this?
We are in a phase of uncertainty, of transition, and soccer is a source of identity. Where do I stand? Who am I? It's also a game, perhaps like a carnival: are you the duck or the crocodile? The competition is initially positive because it is a moment of coming together and community. It can be a good outlet. And it can be abused. When politics appears on the stage, it's like 2000 years ago in Rome. The rulers show strength. Erdoğan and Viktor Orbán are very aware of the mechanics of soccer. Erdoğan played soccer himself, Orbán was the founder of a soccer club in his home town of Felcsút. All the current conflicts in our society always manifest themselves immediately on the pitch - but the processes there are also to some extent under control.
Is that also an opportunity?
That depends. Soccer was the sport of the working class, capitalism has hijacked it. Some go so far as to say it's about turning workers against each other and distracting them from the real problems. It's bread and circuses - but even that has its tipping point. I haven't been to big games for eight years, there has long been an overdose. The actual idea of the game survives in small towns and villages: the church, the school, the soccer pitch. That is a pattern. And there are efforts to reclaim the game that make me optimistic: There are the ultra protests, initiatives by queer people, a changing understanding of masculinity. Everything is in motion, and where the Turkish flag hangs out of the window today, there might be a German flag tomorrow. I don't know whether an identification system like the nation will eventually become obsolete - but identity is not something fixed, it is changeable. And I am very happy to have the choice.
