In Berlin Zero Hour, Mona von Wittlage sets a fragile human figure against the ruins of history. Painted in blood, a lone body stands poised with a golf club before the shattered dome of the Reichstag, rendered in stark graphite. The juxtaposition is both absurd and unsettling: leisure played out on the stage of catastrophe, fragility confronting the monumental wreckage of power.

Blood inscribes the present into the ruins of the past, reminding us that history is not only preserved in stone but also in the living, vulnerable body. Berlin Zero Hour becomes a meditation on collapse and renewal, on the moments when destruction clears the ground for fragile beginnings.