Pride Museum

06/05/2026

Brussels Pride oogt als een feest. Maar wie alleen de glitters ziet, mist waar het grotendeels nog om draait. De Pride blijft een eisenplatform en een moment van zichtbaarheid. Hoe die boodschap vormgegeven moet worden, is echter voer voor discussie. “De Brussels Pride heeft een bepaalde limiet van wat ze kan bereiken.”

Brussels Pride oogt als een feest. Maar wie alleen de glitters ziet, mist waar het grotendeels nog om draait. De Pride blijft een eisenplatform en een moment van zichtbaarheid. Hoe die boodschap vormg

26/07/2025

Van 15 juni tot 15 juli kreeg het MIMA-gebouw tijdelijk een nieuwe invulling als Pride Museum. Giorgi Tabagari, medeoprichter van het Pride Museum, blikt tevreden terug.

19/07/2025

Pride Museum and the What About Q***r project had the pleasure of presenting an exhibition by Barcelona-based artist Tamara Lortkipanidze.

Dark Room” invites the viewer into a shadowed, intimate space where small paintings flicker into view only when revealed by the beam of a flashlight. You’re not given the full picture at once. You must move, discover, uncover. Just like identity. Just like the truth.

This room is built inside the museum — a room within a room. Constructed from cardboard, it becomes a private, fragile space inside a larger, social one. A personal territory carved out of institutional architecture. A hidden space in plain sight.

The title, Dark Room, holds layered meaning. In q***r nightlife culture, the dark room is a place of exploration, anonymity, desire, and freedom — often hidden, yet profoundly known by those who’ve needed it. Here, it is reclaimed as a sanctuary for q***r expression, and as a metaphor for the veiled, vulnerable, and sometimes erotic nature of survival.

But this is not just about the erotic. It’s also about the political darkness that surrounds us.

In a world that feels increasingly hostile — where war has become normalized, where authoritarianism tightens its grip, where q***r bodies, female bodies, and migrant bodies are still seen as threats — making art becomes an act of resistance and resilience. A form of quiet, stubborn survival. These paintings, small in size, carry the weight of that survival. They are fragments of emotion, portraits of disquiet, witnesses of exile and desire.

In the “Dark Room,” you are both viewer and seeker. You hold the light, but you’re also held in the dark. What you find — whether tenderness, unease, arousal, anger, or grief — reflects the fragile intersection between visibility and uncovered self.

19/07/2025

Pride Museum and the What About Q***r project had the pleasure of presenting Dark Room, an exhibition by Barcelona-based artist Tamara Lortkipanidze.

A beam of light pierces the dark — in this space, you don’t just see, you search. “Dark Room” invites the viewer into a shadowed, intimate space where small paintings flicker into view only when revealed by the beam of a flashlight. You’re not given the full picture at once. You must move, discover, uncover. Just like identity. Just like the truth.

This room is built inside the museum — a room within a room. Constructed from cardboard, it becomes a private, fragile space inside a larger, social one. A personal territory carved out of institutional architecture. A hidden space in plain sight.

The title, Dark Room, holds layered meaning. In q***r nightlife culture, the dark room is a place of exploration, anonymity, desire, and freedom — often hidden, yet profoundly known by those who’ve needed it. Here, it is reclaimed as a sanctuary for q***r expression, and as a metaphor for the veiled, vulnerable, and sometimes erotic nature of survival.

But this is not just about the erotic. It’s also about the political darkness that surrounds us.

18/07/2025

Matte De Blasio
The Garden After Us
(from the ongoing project Ai limoni del futuro)
Pride Museum, What About Q***r

We are suspended in a time that is both now and not yet. In The Garden After Us, Matte De Blasio invites us into a speculative present — a drifting ecology where fragments have surfaced: pulsing seeds, flickering kisses, soft technologies of intimacy.
These fragments resemble archaeological remains, evidence of a civilisation that is neither fully gone nor entirely present. They belong to a world after us — or one that never fully became.
At its core: the limone — plant, fruit, kiss. A solar and lunar body, lush and alien. It grows, it spreads, it drips with longing. It is the seed of a q***r desire that has learned to survive and re-root beyond the human.

The limoni plants in this installation are living, growing entities De Blasio has cultivated over time — sensual companions that have sprouted from the artist’s mouth, rituals, and everyday life. In Italian vernacular, limonare means to kiss with the tongue. Here, this gesture becomes a ritual act — a cultivation, a spell, a leak.
De Blasio gathers these kisses like fruit, each one a form of propagation. The tongue becomes a vector of kinship, a technology for building futures not grounded in reproduction, but in shared fluids and chosen entanglements.

The artist proposes a garden of desire — a haunted garden, where human presence is only residual, remembered in the softness of a plant, the shimmer of a projected kiss, the echo of a contract. This is bitchcraft: a q***r fertility that reclaims the mouth from language, the kiss from containment, the plant from domestication.

Limoni appear here as signs, symptoms, and agents — an alien invasion through scent, sap, saliva. They cross time and taxonomies. They haunt urban surfaces and cracked screens. They grow without permission.

What unfolds here is not an ending, but a garden after us.

13/07/2025

Last chance to catch mesmerizing one month long performance of .dadiani. Final act of the Song of the Fish tonight, at 22:00 at Pride Museum 🥀

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11/07/2025

What q***r stories remain buried in spaces shaped by violence and masculinity? What happens when one language leaks into another — and refuses to settle? What if translation is not a bridge, but a bruise? Not mastery, but proximity?

Outono de Carne Estranha, by Brazilian writer Airton Souza, is set in Serra Pelada — the world’s largest open-pit gold mine in the 1980s. Lyrical and visceral, the novel traces the q***r love story of Zuza and Manel, two miners suspended between desire and brutality in the heart of an extractive landscape.

In this reading, Túlio Rosa shares fragments of the novel in Portuguese, accompanied by a graphic translation — not an illustration, but a visual-textual score. A composition that treats translation as an open, embodied process.

This graphic work does not aim to explain. It echoes, fractures, extends. It holds space for what remains unreadable. It reflects the gaps, resistances, and asymmetries that arise when language crosses contexts — and offers an invitation to get closer, without resolution.

11/07/2025

Kia Sciarrone's we’re Here, we’re q***r, get used to it!  investigates the censorship of LGBTQIA+ content across the globe, particularly in autocratic regimes and religiously dominated States where internet access is restricted due to homophobic policies. Highlighting that even in Austria, many companies block content related to body politics, Sciarrone emphasizes the fundamental human right to access information freely. the work challenges the boundaries of public discourse and digital censorship inviting viewers to consider who controls visibility in the digital age.

Sound design : Reza Kellner

10/07/2025

As our project comes to a close, we feel the need to pause and take a collective breath.

We're grateful to Tornike — a Barcelona-based practitioner of bodywork, mindfulness, and meditation — who generously offered to lead a free class for the q***r community.

Join us today at the Pride Museum, and let’s take a breath together.

10/07/2025

We were honoured to welcome - a dedicated grassroots group in Brussels supporting LGBTQI individuals seeking international protection in Belgium. 🌈

Their visit was deeply emotional and meaningful for both our guests and the Pride Museum team.
Migration and displacement are central themes in our work, and moments like this remind us why we do what we do. 💜

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