What if women ruled the world? A simple but seemingly impossible question bookends the travelling exhibition, Empowerment - Art and Feminisms. Posed by Yael Bartana, one of the exhibiting artists for the show, the question underpins the future-oriented, hopeful position the exhibition engenders. It is currently on view at Travancore Palace, New Delhi, from April 12 - May 11, 2025, through a collaboration with the Goethe-Institut South Asia, after which the show will travel to other cities in India and then Sri Lanka.

The curatorial note makes clear what is a well-established fact at the outset—we cannot yet speak of equality for all. So we must imagine a utopian world to this end. In a world where right-wing lobbies are gaining mass popularity and the agency of minority groups (including women and LGBTQIA+ folks) is increasingly undermined, this sobering fact bears witnessing. To highlight these positions, the exhibition claims to be a 'comprehensive global overview of art and feminisms' and was first organised at Kunstmuseum Wolfsburg in 2022–23 with almost 100 artworks from 50 countries around the world. The curators for the expansive exhibition—Andreas Beitin (director, Ludwig Forum for International Art), Katharina Koch (co-director of the feminist art space alpha nova & galerie futura in Berlin) and Uta Ruhkamp (curator, Kunstmuseum Wolfsburg)—bring the works together under a simple declaration, defined in the epigraph of the exhibition’s publication booklet.

Quoting the trailblazing feminist author bell hooks, they note, “Feminist politics aims to end domination to free us to be who we are–to live lives where we love justice, where we can live in peace. Feminism is for everybody.” That feminism, or feminisms, is an epistemological project for all should be self-evident, but is not. The project for Empowerment hopes to reassert the case for an emancipatory feminist politics by foregrounding its concerns—social inequality, questions of care, sexism, racism, economic parity and ecological breakdown in an accessible manner. These concerns are intersectional, hence the plural feminisms. Artists in the show work through different positions, which are particular to their artistic practice but have been and still are universal demands in the struggle for equality. The works deal with issues such as the ongoing violence and discrimination against women and LGBTQIA+ communities, the denial of basic human rights such as education or health, the negation of transsexual identities and safe access to public spaces for minority communities and the ongoing prejudices perpetuated by colonial or racist worldviews.

For the show, feminisms are presented as a lens to imagine a utopian world that refutes the hierarchies of conventional patriarchal societies—a demand at the forefront of every feminist movement. The show, however, hopes to forge beyond such classifications. Stressing the global aspect of the exhibition, Ruhkamp commented during a press preview, “[For Empowerment], we established several networks. Of course, we had personal global networks we could reach out to. But we also contacted different institutes worldwide to ask for artist contributions…[In the show], we don't want to speak in terms of national categories.” This approach also lends to a more future-oriented and inclusive outlook.

Instead, the exhibition is divided into seven themes—Labour of Care; Herstories and Other Narratives; Desired and Violated Bodies; Gender and Identity; Resistance and Protest; Planetary Challenges and Feminist Futures. Of the five artist collectives in the original exhibition, Bengaluru-based Sandbox Collective remain included in Travancore Palace. The collective is also responsible for the public programming for the exhibition, fostering a community-centric space with workshops, film screenings and events. They have also set up a travelling feminist library in the gallery space at Travancore Palace.

The works on display are mostly photography or video art-based, with the exception of Shilpa Gupta and Bartana’s neon art. Across the photographs, one is immediately struck by the way in which the women (or female presenting artists) announce their presence. The artists stare directly, with a mixture of something between defiance, rage, assertion and even joy. Take, for instance, the images presented by Boryana Rossa, of her in a maternity bra, baring the fact that she has undergone a mastectomy. The images call into question how the female body identifies itself. The question of identity is also evident in the second section dedicated to labour and care. In Arshi Irshad Ahmadzai's photographs from the Burqewali (2020) series, the contemporary artist’s identity is veiled not only through the burqa, but her face and eyes are also obscured by objects of daily use: an iron, a ceramic plate, or a hammer. Are these meant to be signifiers for the artist's identity or symbols of violence against the woman in the domestic sphere?

Similarly, Will I still carry water when I am a dead woman (2013) by Wura-Natasha Ogunji is a video recording of a performance artwork staged in Lagos, Nigeria. In it, a group of women in masks emulate the traditional Egungun masquerade (which women are forbidden from performing) while water kegs are tied to their ankles. In the next room, visitors are confronted with Pushpamala N's interpretation of the goddess Kali, who symbolises strength, having just defeated Shiva, a substitute for India’s patriarchal systems. Spotlighting the imposing gaze African women are still subject to, Tracey Rose's work, Venus Baartman (2001) positions the artist donning the role of Sarah Baartman, an Indigenous woman who was taken from Cape Town in the 1800s by British colonisers to be put on display for her 'curious' features. Thus, Rose comments on the ongoing effects of colonialism and racism, with the African body, specifically female, both desired and violated. Works by Regina José Galindo, Nilbar Güreş and Selma Selman similarly comment on the idea of violence and desire in their showcased projects.

Guatemalan artist Galindo's photo series and project Presencia (2017) enabled the artist to assert presence for 13 women who were murdered in Guatemala. By wearing their clothes and standing silently in various public spaces for two hours, Galindo demands attention for the murdered women. She cites a statistic from the INACIF (National Institute of Forensic Sciences of Guatemala) in her concept note, which states that in a five year period, more than 3000 women were murdered in Guatemala alone, victims of domestic violence. Her note also includes the stories of the women she attempted to become in her performance.

In a similar vein, Gabrielle Goliath's installation, Roulette (2014), implicates whoever interacts with the work. A set of headphones dangles from the ceiling, with a doormat issuing a disclaimer: 'Listening in may result in severe ringing of the ears or even permanent aural damage.' While the headphones only emit static, every three hours, this is punctured by an ear-ringing recording of a point-blank revolver gunshot. The work was created as a way to draw attention to a statistic released by the South African Police Service from 2017/18 stating that a woman is murdered every 3 hours in South Africa.

Demanding acknowledgement of the existence of violence is also an evident thread in works by trans artists in the show. For instance, a photo from Zanele Muholi's series of portraits, Brave Beauties, Durban (2020), depicts a group of transsexual women on a beach in the South African city. The women in the image exude self-confidence, contrary to the otherwise oppressed narratives that they are subject to. Muholi’s photos give these marginalised communities a voice. Apart from using artistic expression as a form of resistance, the exhibition extends itself to include actual acts of protest for display. Questioning systems of power that keep women oppressed by forcing restrictions on their freedoms, Iranian photographer Newsha Tavakolian's 2010 Listen project was a means to render those without a voice into the public imagination. Tavakolian took portraits of female Iranian singers for the project, posing them as fictional album covers. Women have not been allowed to perform solo or produce their CDs since the 1979 revolution, so the work becomes an act of defiance against theocratic norms. Whereas women in the artworks declare their presence as a way of protest, it is even more interesting when, in Shilpa Gupta’s line drawings from Nothing will go on Record (2020), the protestors are absent. Who are they? Why and by whom were they erased from the record?

It is curious to call the showcase Empowerment, when so many works still speak of oppression and violence. It becomes a way to spotlight how each of the artists, in their own way, is using feminist art as a hopeful position. This speculative nature of the exhibition is best highlighted by the works categorised under Feminist Futures. One of the most surreal and immersive works on display is an AR simulation of New Zealand-based art collective The Pacific Sisters. The installation, Te Pu o Te Wheke (2022), is an exploration of gender fluidity and identity. It foregrounds indigenous ways of being, questioning the dichotomies of nature and culture established by the Enlightenment.

In 2022, the exhibition was hinged on the pandemic, bringing to light the ways in which feminist issues were affected and how artists responded to this. In 2025, the exhibition feels necessary, but also exacting. If we are still dealing with the issues these artists dealt with, 10 or even five years down the line, what does that truly mean for the state of the world (the show does, after all, deal with feminism as a global project)? What does it mean to live in a world where the US government continues to police the female body and deny trans identities, where the UK government passed an act declaring that women would be identified as such only through biological sex? True equality cannot exist when communities continue to be discriminated against and lived realities are denied. To gaze upon these works, to be moved, to think with the women and their stories means you are implicated in the same struggle.