On the scarred landscape of the Berlin Wall, once a frontier of ideology, a lone figure in blood raises a golf club. The swing, precise and elegant, echoes not sport but conquest. Where guards once stood in towers, now the invisible empire of capital claims its dominion.

The wall, once a symbol of division, becomes here a silent spectator to a different hegemony — the game of profit that erases borders, memories, and wounds alike. The red silhouette, fragile yet brazen, inscribes in blood the paradox of a freedom purchased at the price of submission to another power.

In Capitalism takes it all, Mona von Wittlage confronts the ghosts of history with a gesture both absurd and tragic. The work becomes an allegory of a new order where even ruins are transformed into fairways, and the past is subsumed by the relentless drive of consumption.