Published 05 September 2025 in News
The Renaissance of Addis Ababa
Kaleab Abate’s current practice explores change, memory, and the shifting aesthetics of urban life in his city Addis Ababa, Ethiopia’s rapidly transforming capital. Like many African metropolises, the city has been undergoing rupture-like development, where familiar colors, textures, and atmospheres vanish almost as quickly as they appear. Kaleab coined the term ‘Gintil Get’ — meaning ‘undefined beauty’ — to describe his search for fleeting inspiration within these moments of transformation.
Through his work, he reflects on how city planning, architectural choices, and accelerated growth reshape not only the built environment but also collective memory, cultural identity, and the everyday coexistence of people. Nostalgia becomes a tool—almost an escape—to cope with the gradual, irreversible loss of a way of life: its distinct aesthetics, images, street chatter and scents, and the warmth of human connection.
left: Kaleab Abate, Letter to Addisalem I, 2025, Silkscreen Print, Yarn and Collage on Fabric, 200x100cm, ©Kaleab Abate
right: Kaleab Abate, Letter to Addisalem II, 2025, Silkscreen Print, Yarn and Collage on Fabric, 208x102cm, ©Kaleab Abate
Writing Letters to Addisalem
"Addisalem is a character who portrays the city [of Addis Ababa] in my new series. Addisalem is an Amharic girl's name meaning "new world". This refers to the city's current state, a new world.
Addisalem used to be vivid without color, and her laughter echoed like music over crowded streets. But somewhere along the road, her voice softened, and her body reflected but became unrecognizable. She smiles without sincerity, and her conversations lack weight. I have a lot of questions about who she became.
With every piece I create about her, I include an envelope with an actual letter inside including all of my questions. If you lift the envelopes from the works, you'll uncover my questions to Addisalem."
Kaleab Abate, September 2025
Letter to Addisalem I, Artwork Detail
"Throughout my artistic practice, my surroundings and the place in which I have lived have influenced how I view and understand art. Of course, I didn't realize how important each piece was until they started to disappear one by one. It's strange to see a city that was once full of soul slowly forget itself.
I walk on the same streets as before, but they feel quieter today, as if the city is holding its breath. It was once overflowing with affection at every corner. I recall it as it felt alive, with soft round edges and a lot of people. It wasn't perfect; the roads and sidewalks were tiny. The buildings were not modern and their colors had faded, yet they were rich with history. The fading colors and textures narrate to their past. Its pavement was damaged in parts, but it still had character.
Elders used to sit outside cafes, sipping coffee as if it were an act of worship. There weren't many flowers, yet they grew on aged brick walls, as if to declare hope, rebellion, and love. Now everything feels like photography-sharp but flat, framed but silent. The cafes and boutiques are still present, but they offer efficiency rather than warmth.
The streets are cleaner, but they appear to have forgotten the rhythm of footsteps that once gave them purpose. It's strange how a place may lose its essence while keeping its name. The buildings are still there, yet it feels as if they were never there. I can't help it but feel that something has slipped away, or maybe it's just me who has changed.
The city continues to dance in my head. It still glows in the golden hour light that used to transform ordinary apartment living room windows into stained glass windows full of memories and love. Perhaps what I missed was not the city, but the way it had made me feel boundless, connected, belonged, and softly in love with the outside world.
But now all I have is romanticized memories of it. This idealized memory is warming and confusing at the same time. It preserves the emotional truth of an environment even when the physical truth changes. However, it makes the present appear colder in comparison.
The towering glass buildings, empty walkways, precisely sculpted fountains, and parks all serve as reminders that something intangible has been lost. Not only structure, but also a way of living and loving."
Letter to Addisalem I & II, Artwork Details