Crosshairs usually aim at something. In radiotherapy, they mark a point where treatment is to be targeted as precisely as possible. This double meaning is the starting point for Herlinde Koelbl’s new work, “Fadenkreuze für das Leben” (Crosshairs for Life): from 8 November, Kunstmuseum Bonn will present portraits and conversations with 40 people living with cancer. The exhibition is scheduled to run until 16 May 2027.
Koelbl draws on her own experience here. According to the museum, she herself developed breast cancer in 2019/20. The radiotherapy markings reminded her of her earlier project “Targets”, in which she photographed military shooting targets and crosshairs. In one context, the symbol stands for targeted killing; in the other, for treatment intended to preserve life. This shift in meaning is powerful, but not innocent: the visual language of the target can convey medical precision while also making the body appear as the object of another’s gaze.
A portrait is not a diagnosis
Koelbl’s project combines photography with conversations about experiences of illness. This shifts the emphasis: a face should not serve merely as evidence of a diagnosis or as an illustration of medical facts. Those portrayed appear as people with their own life stories, not simply as cases. According to the museum, the exhibition places different experiences of fear, hope, loss and renewed trust alongside one another.
This is a long-standing thread in Koelbl’s work. In “Jüdische Porträts” (Jewish Portraits), she paired photographs with people whose voices emerged through interviews; “Spuren der Macht” (Traces of Power) examined how political office shapes people. Time and again, she combines the individual image with sustained observation, the face with its context. Haus der Geschichte describes this combination of photography and interview as a recurring method. A portrait thus becomes less a definitive judgement than an invitation to look more closely — and not to confuse one’s own interpretation with the person.
Who decides what becomes visible?
Yet intimacy in an image does not automatically mean self-determination. Anyone who appears before the camera relinquishes some control over their own appearance to the photographic gaze. In the context of illness, this tension can be particularly palpable: physical changes, traces of treatment or personal accounts become public and may remain visible long after the circumstances in which they arose. What matters, then, is not simply whether an image seems candid, but also who has a say in its selection, caption, context and subsequent use.
The museum’s publicly available information states the number of people portrayed, the conversational format and Koelbl’s personal starting point. It does not, however, explain how consent, selection or possible changes to the presentation were agreed with the participants. Nor do the sources consulted contain direct statements from any of those portrayed. This is no basis for concluding that their self-determination was disregarded. It does mean, however, that a central question about the project remains unanswered ahead of an independent assessment of the exhibition: how do the people themselves describe the experience of being photographed and shown publicly?
Visibility without idealisation
Photographic portraits can counter a common reduction: illness is then not a person’s entire identity, but part of their present life. At the same time, the narrative structure of vulnerability and hope can itself become a template if it presents those affected primarily as brave, fighting or inspiring. Even a well-intentioned narrative can dictate what others are supposed to see in a face.
The strength of “Fadenkreuze für das Leben” lies, initially, in the friction evoked by its title and visual motif: medical marking and military target, vulnerability and agency. Whether the photographs keep this tension open, rather than resolving it into an unambiguous story of overcoming adversity, cannot be determined from the announcements alone. For viewers, a simple yet demanding standard remains: a face may tell us something about illness without being reduced to it. And anyone who shows it should also leave room for the person depicted to be more than the story others tell about them.
Original reviewed by the editors · 1 November 2026
