‘The forgetting, relearning, and reconnecting is an inspiring process as an artist’: Daniela Brugger reflects on her residency

With a practice based on listening and exchange, Daniela Brugger’s projects take form through performances, installations, videos, text, drawings, workshops, and audio works. Daniela is interested in the underlying structures of technologies and in places where people organise and engage collectively. She is fascinated by how our digital world is shaping our society and changing the way we interact with each other. Approaching this from an artistic and intersectional feminist perspective, Daniela explores topics like peer-to-peer learning, open-source, and expanded knowledge spaces. In the process she questions the conditions of given spaces and explores possibilities of movements within seemingly rigid structures. During her residency in Kinshasa, Daniela was developing her current project which considers embodied and spiritual aspects of computer codes.

Your work often engages with structures of society, investigating its forms and contents. In what ways does your current project, ‘muddy codes and soft infrastructures’, continue and expand this? 

In the so-called Western world, we think of digital technology as something that is flawless, and there is a great belief in new technologies as solutions to overcome current crisis. My interest on the other hand is the invisible dirt and the fallibility in the context of digital technology, but also in the sensual, fragile and non-measurable. The project ‘muddy codes and soft infrastructures’ can be described as a vision where computer codes entail organic, spiritual and non-binary potentials and invisible aspects of technological infrastructures are valued such as bodies, relationships, and time. 

Can you speak more about your interest in the social infrastructures of technology and how this takes form in the project? 

Technology is a term that can be read in many ways, which I like. I am inspired by early technologies, such as for example slit drums, which transported messages over great distances through percussion. In ancient technologies it seems obvious that there is human labour involved and, in its origins, they’re connected in good faith with the spirits and its environment. But when we nowadays talk about digital technologies, we tend to ignore that labour and natural resources are part of it. I have difficulty naming a single technology today that hasn’t been associated with harm for workers and environment. Not only to extract raw materials, but also thinking about the other end of the cycle – who handles electronic waste, who takes the time to repair broken electronics? In the current discussion around AI we hardly talk about the insane amount of water that is used to cool server farms, or the labour of data trainers – a job which is mainly outsourced to the Global South. In the long-term project “muddy codes and soft infrastructures” I focus on these mainly invisible aspects, to open a discussion. 

In what ways do you critically engage with the ambivalence in technological development in this project (and work generally), and what perspective does the Kinshasa context bring to this? 

Kinshasa is a vibrant city, unfortunately also a city full of litter due to non-existing municipal waste management, and with it comes also e-waste. A lot of second-hand e-materials arrive in the city from Europe, North America and China and vendors try to sell what’s still possible to sell. But the hardware is often already very damaged, or the software doesn’t last long, and cannot be updated anymore. As a result, the phones and computers end up on the streets, doing more harm than good. 

On the other hand, you find a great culture of repair, as the city hosts a wide range of repair shops for electronics. When deciding to travel to DRC I also had the bigger picture in mind, as the country is known for its raw materials and extraction. As a Swiss, I’m fully aware of the fact that Switzerland is also part of this game, as we might all know Glencore, which pays taxes in Switzerland, while evading accounting for responsibility for working conditions in the DRC. 

What motivated you to apply for a residency at Kin ArtStudio in Kinshasa, DRC and how has your time there influenced your work? 

I met Vitshois Mwilambwe Bondo, the founder of KinArt Studios, in Basel in 2016 where I was working at the time at Ausstellungsraum Klingental. He was on a research trip for KinArt Studios, looking at different spaces and how they are organised and function. From the discussions it seemed clear that the Kinshasa context must be a totally different from Switzerland, as there is no such thing as government funding. I met Vitshois again at the 20-years anniversary of Pro Helvetia in Johannesburg 2018, and in 2024 I took the chance to finally travel to Kinshasa myself to experience the space and the city. Although I did quite a lot of research on the history of the Congo in preparations of my trip and exchanged with Congolese people living in Basel, the landing in Kinshasa wasn’t an easy one. I arrived with such a westernised and technical thinking, that it took me a while to grasp the richness and flexibility of the city. The forgetting, relearning, and reconnecting is an inspiring process as an artist. Back home, I’m often in planning positions, and so many things are taken for granted. Kinshasa retaught me to enjoy the moment and accept things as they happen, whereas to really push things forward if I truly want them to happen, which I’m thankful for. 

Can you share any interesting impressions or encounters you’ve had during your residency? Why do these stand out? 

Kinshasa is incomparable with any other city I’ve been to. It’s vivid, and its histories and political situations are complex. I really honour the many strong and positive thinking people I met, also artists who organise collectively like Ndaku ya la vie est belle, which fights on a daily basis against pollution, or Mama Radio, a feminist radio station that engages for social justice and a different way of storytelling. In the city I adore the street vendors as much as the repair stands and the garbage collectors. I especially adore and respect all the strong women I met. 

Kinshasa is full of performance and strong visual images. As a person interested in the invisible, like underlying structures and hidden stories, it sometimes felt absurd to concentrate on the hidden aspects as you can easily be overwhelmed by its sounds and images. Kinshasa, la belle, can hardly be described, it is a bodily experience. 

In 2018 you were an artist in residency in Johannesburg. What projects were you working on and how were these shaped and informed by your experiences in South Africa? 

The stay in South Africa had a lasting impact on my thinking and arts practice. I met a lot of people and got a deeper insight in the complexities of South Africa. This in turn deepened my awareness on colonial histories and my interest in the African continent. I’m still in contact with many artists and people I met back then. At the time I collaborated with Keleketla! Library and together we hosted an event called “unfuk the record”, supported by the South African Wikimedia Chapter and the initiative Art+Feminism. It was connected to readings and writing sessions, motivated by my long-term Wikipedia-Project Who writes his_tory? Through Keleketla! Library I felt encouraged to proceed with my holistic thinking and social-oriented arts practice, as I was inspired by the way they act as organisers as well as artist, storytellers, and mediators. At the time Flurina Rothenberger (Switzerland) was also working in a studio next to mine.  She’s a great photographer whose collaborative and engaged work I admire. 

Looking back, what impact did the residencies have for you personally and professionally? 

Travelling to countries that are visually, spiritually, and emotionally so different from what you grew up with opens your range of perspectives in an incomparable and sustainable way. I must admit that I had some reservations about diving into DRC and its capital, as in Switzerland we hardly know anything about it. But from my current perspective I can say that I wouldn’t want to miss this experience. Simultaneously, I think it is important to be aware of colonial histories and the complex social and political structures that are a result of this, especially if your practice is socially oriented, as mine is.