An intimate portrait of a lesbian couple, a sunlit scene of young men by the water, and a fairground study of androgynous figures — these works open Queer Modernism. 1900 to 1950, a bold new exhibition at Düsseldorf’s Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen. The show, which opens this week, sheds light on how queer artists shaped the evolution of modernism while navigating eras of liberation, repression, and resistance.
Described by museum director Susanne Gaensheimer as “the first major exhibition on this topic in Europe, if not worldwide,” the show invites viewers to reconsider how modern art history has been framed — and whose stories it has excluded. Featuring over 130 works by 34 artists, the exhibition spans painting, sculpture, drawing, photography, and film, tracing shifting expressions of desire, gender, and identity across the first half of the 20th century.
The period, stretching from 1900 to 1950, was one of contrasts: cosmopolitan centres such as Berlin, Paris, and Vienna allowed glimpses of freedom and experimentation, while fascist regimes later sought to suppress them. Many artists, especially those identifying as queer, faced censorship, persecution, or exile. Yet even in these circumstances, they forged communities and continued to create, their works offering a record of both visibility and survival.
Among the standouts is I and My Model (1929/30), by German-Swedish artist Lotte Laserstein. The painting shows Laserstein at her easel, palette in hand, while her lover and muse Traute Rose gazes over her shoulder — a quiet but assertive image of intimacy and professional equality. In The Source (1913), Ludwig von Hofmann portrays three nude male figures gathered by a spring, their gaze and gestures coded with sensuality. The painting, once owned by author Thomas Mann, travelled with him into exile — an emblem of queer longing amid displacement.
The exhibition’s curators worked with a queer advisory board to ensure that the narratives extend beyond aesthetics. Each of the eight thematic chapters — including “Queer Resistance Since 1933” — anchors the art within its historical moment. This section examines the rise of fascism, the criminalisation of homosexuality, and the forced silencing of queer lives under Nazi rule. Some artists fled, others resisted through symbolism, and a few compromised to survive.
Yet even under threat, many continued to celebrate life and love. British artist Gluck (born Hannah Gluckstein) captures this defiant spirit in Bank Holiday Monday (1937), where two stylish, androgynous figures share a moment charged with both intimacy and confidence.
Beyond recovery and recognition, Queer Modernism also asks how queerness influenced modernism’s very form. “The queer artists you see in this exhibition were part of a lively network,” says Gaensheimer. “Many were successful in their time and contributed to the avant-garde — they were integral, not peripheral.”
Due to war, displacement, and the absence of heirs, many of these works were scattered or lost, leaving queer contributions underrepresented in canonical surveys. This exhibition seeks to restore them to visibility — not as footnotes, but as central voices in the narrative of modern art.
Running until 15 February 2026, the show will be accompanied by readings, tours, and workshops that further explore its intertwined themes of identity, creativity, and resilience. In giving queer artists their rightful place within modernism, Düsseldorf’s latest offering does more than revisit history — it rewrites it.
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