Challenging neutrality: Balai & Fardjadniya’s campaign for IDFA 2024

A young couple enjoys a picnic, the scene seemingly lifted from the pages of a glossy magazine. They chat softly, exchanging romantic glances in a moment of perfect serenity. Yet beneath this picturesque moment, destruction looms. Explosions in the distance shatter the calm as a voice-over introduces a harsh truth: many artists and other people with migrant backgrounds arrive in the West with a constructed image of a democratic, just and open society. Instead, they face a more sobering reality. Rather than experiencing that vision of utopia, they often become excluded and isolated or experience exploitation by institutions and corporations as superficial symbols of diversity and progression.

For the third consecutive year, IDFA has invited artists to create the festival’s campaign, asking them to capture their interpretation of IDFA, the art of documentary filmmaking, or both. This year’s campaign was entrusted to Ehsan Fardjadniya and Raul Balai.

Fardjadniya, a performance and visual artist, fled Iran in 2000 after facing persecution for his political cartoons. He sought asylum in the Netherlands, where his work has since merged art and activism, focusing on themes of migration and institutional racism, deeply informed by his own experiences as a political exile. Balai, whose practice combines graffiti, painting, and graphic design, explores power structures and how historical narratives are constructed and perpetuated, shaping today’s societal norms. Together, the duo has collaborated on various projects, including Amsterdam On Trial, a striking initiative that holds the city accountable for not providing unconditional shelter, including to undocumented individuals.

Reflecting on their partnership, Balai explains, “A couple of years ago, I was invited to participate in an international project for artists with migrant or refugee backgrounds. I found it curious that migrants and refugees were grouped together, as their stories and positions within society differ greatly. I invited Ehsan to join, partly because of our different backgrounds: me being a second-generation immigrant, and him being a political refugee. There was an instant connection, rooted in shared ethics and worldviews.” Fardjadniya adds, “What brought us together was this shared sense of belonging—we’ve both explored how history shapes our identities and how identity politics influence perceptions of us today. This mutual understanding deepened our collaboration.”

An artistic collaboration
A common thread in Fardjadniya and Balai’s work is their critical examination of how societies and institutions handle issues like diversity, inclusion, and accountability. They, like many contemporary artists, challenge the supposed neutrality of cultural institutions, holding them accountable for selectively engaging in social issues while remaining silent when it suits them. These institutions, they argue, often hide behind the work of artists, applying double standards and failing to commit to true inclusivity and equity. In IDFA’s case, they suggest that the festival lets its programming speak for its stance, rather than taking a direct position—particularly on issues like Gaza. Given this, accepting the invitation to design IDFA’s campaign might seem like an unlikely move, one that could even open them up to criticism of being “sell-outs” for collaborating with a festival they’ve previously critiqued. “We appreciated the invitation from Orwa [Nyrabia, IDFA’s Artistic Director], and the artistic process and exchange that has led to this campaign. It takes courage from the organization.”

Fardjadniya reflects, "Raul and I spent hours discussing how to go about the campaign. With the current extreme right-wing government in power, we were acutely aware of how much cultural institutions are under threat, facing funding cuts and increased scrutiny. These institutions also need the support of the artist community. Ultimately, we decided to turn the campaign into a critical letter to IDFA—particularly in response to the statements issued by IDFA last year." Balai: “By accepting IDFA’s invitation, we wanted IDFA to take position, and not claim to be ‘a neutral space’.” Their aim, he continues, was not just to challenge the festival's decisions but to spark a broader conversation about how cultural institutions, and their audiences, engage with the issues they claim to support, or fail to support.

Balai continues, “We began brainstorming separately, presenting our ideas to one another as we developed them. My process typically involves working with stock images, using them as placeholders for conceptual development. In this case, while gathering free stock videos, I stumbled across something that resonated deeply with the themes we were exploring. It was this idyllic picnic scene, yet filled with this unsettling, artificial undertone. There was something unnervingly perfect about it—almost too staged.”

The picnic as a symbol
The picnic scene, set in the summery meadow, became a representation of the ideal world that society wishes to represent. It’s the same image that draws some people to Europe, but this carefree existence is a cliché—a constructed reality of prosperity and peace. The reality, as the artists explain, is that migrants often find themselves used as tokens by companies and organizations to showcase inclusivity and progress. “They are offered small platforms and minimal pay, appearing in ads that are more symbolic than meaningful. In doing so, they end up contributing to a brand image that hides its role in the very exploitation and conflicts that force people to migrate in the first place.”

But the campaign carries even deeper symbolic layers. In the backdrop, explosions reverberate, suggesting a world in turmoil. Although these sounds may seem distant, they are never truly out of reach. Balai reflects, “The explosions compel the viewer to acknowledge the gravity of what is happening in Gaza and is being expanded right now to the region, while have attention for other conflicts globally like Sudan or Congo and to recognize that our reality is inextricably intertwined with the rest of the world.” This auditory element serves as a stark reminder that war, though seemingly distant, implicates us all. Balai continues: “Consider how Dutch taxpayers’ money ends up funding weapons sent to a genocidal state. We cannot afford to ignore the consequences of our complicity.”

The plates displayed in the campaign—featuring unexpected dishes like snakes, liverwurst, and toys, all created in collaboration with generative AI—reinforce a sense of illusion and unreality. They symbolize various forms of consumption, both material and immaterial. Balai explains, “The term 'consumption' extends beyond the mere act of eating; it also encompasses how we engage with brands, people, products, and even ideas within a capitalist society. The plates illustrate a world oversaturated by commodification, where everything is for sale, often with little regard for the deeper consequences that lie beneath the surface.”

One particular plate, adorned with slices of watermelon, serves as a potent symbol that stands out. It represents artistic resistance against the censorship of Palestinian voices and expresses solidarity with the Palestinian people – as used by Palestinian artists like Khaled Hourani, Sarah Hatahet, Sami Boukhari, Aya Mobaydeen and Beesan Arafat. In the case of this campaign the imagery of a slice of watermelon gives the illusion of a perfect, carefree life, which starkly contrasts with the hidden realities of injustice and oppression, urging viewers to confront what is often overlooked.

Fardjadniya adds, “While the campaign is rich with symbolism, it’s important for us not to over-explain what the audience can find in all the different imagery used in the campaign. Ideally, we want people to watch, go home, and let it linger in their minds. It doesn’t have to be immediately clear or consumable.

The IDFA 2024 campaign goes beyond promotional material, serving as a visual manifesto that challenges surface-level portrayals of diversity and inclusion while exposing the complicity often present within cultural institutions. Fardjadniya and Balai question whether these organizations are genuinely committed to social justice or merely paying lip service, urging audiences to reconsider the narratives they've been told. Their work encourages audiences to rethink the narratives they’ve been fed and confront the complexities of power and accountability in the pursuit of a more inclusive future.