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The Artist's Monument to Forgotten WorkersAn air of civilisational wipeout hangs over the Gehrenseestrasse complex, an abandoned housing estate on the north-eastern outskirts of Berlin, where the city still looks shabby without the chic. The insides of the nine prefabricated blocks have long been gutted; six floors of empty window frames stare hollow-eyed over multi-lane carriageways. In the courtyard, paintballers have left behind wooden barricades from when they played at World War III.Yet in one of the second-floor rooms of Berlin's largest ruin, artist Sung Tieu is waltzing across the concrete floor and reliving scenes from her childhood. "Here was the single bed I shared with my mother for three years," she says, pointing into a corner of the small room. "Two metres by 90cm, can you believe it?" There in the corridor is where her neighbours used to make bánh bao dumplings on camping stoves, for lack of private kitchens. "I still remember the smell." Here was the door through which she used to entertain her best friend when his mother locked him in during working hours. "We played cards through the gaps," she recalls with glee.But she also still remembers where neo-Nazis tried to throw molotov cocktails into the building: "They eventually set up a net because the windows kept on getting smashed".The Mosaic Recreation of a Lost CommunityThese days, few people have heard of the Gehrenseestrasse complex, whose last tenants left in 2002. But if Tieu had her say, it would be as essential a stop on the tourist trail as the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag or Checkpoint Charlie. There is, in her view, no place that better tells the story of the Vertragsarbeiter generation – the oft-forgotten workers who were hired on fixed-term contracts from socialist "brother states" in Vietnam, Mozambique, Angola or Cuba to boost the East German economy. "To me, this place is a monument," says Tieu.By the end of this summer, many more people in Germany – and art enthusiasts around the globe – will know about her childhood home. For this year's Venice Biennale, Tieu has clad the German pavilion with a like-for-like replica of the complex's facade, recreating the grey concrete and smudges of graffiti with three million mosaic stones made in Ravenna. She conceived the pavilion in tandem with the artist Henrike Naumann, who died in February from cancer aged only 41.Bureaucracy as Artistic MediumThe woman I meet at a Vietnamese restaurant in Berlin's Lichtenberg district is the antithesis of that exoticised cliche: modest, dressed all in black, analytical in her answers to my questions. She talks me dispassionately through the more experimental food options on the menu, but comes alive when explaining bilateral treaties and labour regulation."I really try to avoid the pure post-migrant diaspora narratives. By focusing on individual experience you can lose sight of the bigger picture. Contracts, state treaties, floorplans – that's what I am interested in. There has to be a certain formal toughness."Looking through her catalogue raisonné you are reminded of Marcel Duchamp. You see an artist dedicating her career to seeking ever more minimalist ways to express the same idea, from Cubist painting to readymade to annotations of chess moves. And in Tieu's case, that big idea is bureaucracy. In 2015, she reprogrammed the scrolling LED displays at a shop inside the Dong Xuan Centre, Berlin's largest Asian market, to display the texts of immigration treaties. For a group show at Berlin's Haus der Kulturen der Welt in 2024, she transcribed by hand documents from the national archives on the East German porcelain industry, authenticating them with her own ornamental stamp. Her website, fittingly, is just a long index of file names and a deadpan biography section: "Sung Tieu is an artist."Childhood Trauma and Artistic Vision"I think it's also a childhood trauma," she says when I ask her where her interest in bureaucracy comes from. "I've had to fill out forms for my mother since I was five, since she didn't speak any German. And by the time I was seven my German was better than hers. Bureaucracy was part of my childhood – I studied politics and administration because I wanted to understand it."Born in 1987 in Hai Duong, northern Vietnam, Tieu moved with her mother to what was by then the formerly socialist East German regions in 1992. They were joining up with her father, who had moved to the GDR five years earlier via a bilateral agreement for factory workers from the socialist republic.Initially announced in the romantic spirit of ideological solidarity, the treaty between the two states soon became a more hard-nosed deal, addressing ongoing labour shortages in East Germany while helping to rebuild a war-ravaged Vietnam, which took a...The Legacy of Forgotten WorkersTechnically there was no racism in the GDR, because it wasn't documented. But of course it always existed. This is the uncomfortable truth that Tieu's installation confronts – the erasure of immigrant experiences in official narratives, even as these workers were essential to East Germany's economy.Through her art, Tieu transforms personal memory into collective history, giving voice to the thousands of contract workers who built East Germany but were never fully acknowledged as part of its society. The Venice Biennale installation, with its meticulous recreation of a housing complex that many would prefer to forget, serves as both memorial and critique – a reminder that the stories of immigrants are integral to understanding modern Germany.The Future of Migration Narratives in ArtAs Europe continues to grapple with questions of migration and identity, artists like Sung Tieu are pioneering new forms of expression that move beyond personal stories to examine the structures and systems that shape immigrant experiences. By focusing on bureaucracy, architecture, and official documents, Tieu creates art that is both deeply personal and universally relevant.The Venice Biennale platform ensures that these often-overlooked histories reach a global audience, challenging visitors to reconsider their understanding of migration, labor, and belonging. As Tieu continues her exploration of these themes, we can expect more installations that transform bureaucratic systems into powerful artistic statements, creating spaces where the voices of the marginalized can be heard and remembered.