
Just 4 minutes. Black-and-white. Silent. A Super-8 film reel. Describing an artwork technically can take only this short a time; yet the historical and emotional weight carried by that reel is enough to transcend the boundaries of time. American artist and activist Zoe Leonard’s short film titled East River Park, 1991—shot in collaboration with Nancy Brooks Brody in 1991—meets the audience at Capitain Petzel gallery in Berlin. On the no-26 art radar this time is a silent yet shattering window opening into New York’s queer memory.
East River Park, 1991 documents a very specific geography deeply etched into New York’s queer history: the coastline of the East River. In the early ’90s, this was not merely an ordinary piece of land where the river ended; it was an oasis of chance encounters, desire, feeling safe, and becoming a community for the LGBTQ+ collective.
The period in which the film was captured coincides with a time when the destructive and tragic impacts of the AIDS crisis were irremediably carved into the lives, streets, and friendship groups of the city’s queer community. In the midst of this invisible, deadly threat and social exclusion, Leonard and Brody’s camera records the public space as a sanctuary, a stage for resistance, and compassion.
After exactly 35 years (looking at those four minutes of silently flowing footage from today’s vantage point in 2026), the timeless layers of meaning carried by the work become even more distinct. The screening of the piece by Capitain Petzel in Berlin this summer is no accidental programming choice.
Washing ashore is not just the water of the river; it is the ghosts of an era, unfinished love stories, and a collective memory that was intended to be erased. The film holds that memory by the water’s edge, on vigil against the erosion of time.
Concepts such as visibility, the sharing of public space, and social belonging are re-read today under the shadow of the raw urgency of the ’90s, but also in the light of the historical legacy left by that urgency. The questions do not change; only the institutional and social frameworks around them shift.
When you pass through the monumental, wide, and unprotected architectural corridor of Karl-Marx-Allee and step inside Capitain Petzel, the sense of contrast created by this small-format, Super-8 film grips you immediately. This 4-minute silence rising in the middle of the massive gallery space leaves a melancholic residue that you will carry within you for a long time during Berlin’s bustling summer days. If your path takes you to Berlin before August, make sure to experience this short but profound testimony by the riverbank firsthand.






