Forensic Folklore: The Archipelago
In Mengele’s Skull: The Advent of Forensic Aesthetics (2012), authors Thomas Keenan and Eyal Weizman trace a critical moment in the genealogy of forensic anthropology. Centering on the 1985 identification of Nazi war criminal Josef Mengele through the analysis of remains exhumed in Brazil, they explore how a combination of scientific disciplines—from radiology to handwriting analysis—joined forces to resolve a legal and historical mystery. The turning point came when a German forensic expert, using a photo-skull superimposition technique, produced an image aligning Mengele’s face with the skull. This photograph didn’t just confirm identity—it became a visual proof that closed the case in the eyes of science, law, and the public. It was also a moment when forensic experts stepped into the courtroom not as aides, but as primary witnesses. Bones, through the voice of the forensic anthropologist, began to “speak.”
This emergence of forensic aesthetics—the visualization of scientific truth—reshaped not only legal procedures but also ethical, political, and cultural understandings of evidence and justice. However, the very power of these visual and scientific tools also opened the door to their manipulation.
It is precisely this tension—between truth and its obstruction—that artist Kristian Kožul investigates in his latest exhibition. Known for his critical engagement with social issues and resistance to formalist traditions in Croatian contemporary art, Kožul turns once again to sculpture and installation to interrogate how systems of knowledge, especially forensics, can be appropriated or distorted.
In contrast to the scientific clarity of legitimate forensic processes, Kožul presents sculptural objects and staged scenes that evoke falsification, ambiguity, and ideological interference. These installations function as metaphors for political obstruction, where evidence is obscured rather than illuminated. The viewer is drawn into scenes reminiscent of crime investigations—but what is revealed is the theatre of misinformation, not the pursuit of truth.
Kožul’s approach builds on elements of pop art, surrealism, and Dada, yet maintains a distinctive voice rooted in the material culture of post-socialist Croatia. His works often juxtapose industrial objects with emotionally or symbolically charged motifs—plastic grave candles, riot police busts, or baby furniture mixed with sadomasochistic imagery—highlighting contradictions within national identity, consumerism, and cultural memory.
In this exhibition, Kožul deepens his inquiry into the ethical and aesthetic boundaries of representing mass violence and historical trauma. He asks: if there are images that can confirm atrocity, are there also images that can conceal it? Can we visualize the obstruction of justice? What happens when forensic authority is undermined by populism, amateurism, or political agendas?
By placing the viewer in proximity to unsettling, indeterminate remains—both material and symbolic—Kožul interrupts the chain of semiotic resolution. What is left is a bodily unease, a subtle but potent reminder: “This could be you.”
From the text by Klaudio Štefančić