The investigation into Irene de Andrés’s Nazi control and brainwashing project continues to unfold after more than five years, focusing on the program known as Kraft durch Freude, or Strength Through Joy. Its aim was to secure loyalty among the working class by tightly regulating leisure. The book was presented at MACE on a Friday, titled The Ship Won’t Wait, alongside a video documenting the menus served aboard a cruise liner.
On display are photographs of the three menus used by the Nazi cruiser Wilhelm Gustloff in 1939, a ship promoted as the classless vessel and a central element in the program of indoctrination and control over leisure under the Kraft durch Freude initiative. A sequence shows an individual whose hands appear only to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner on a white tablecloth, presenting traditional German fare that is abundant, hearty, and unappetizing. The repetitive ritual within a dining space that feels devoid of rank or body is jarring for observers. The book and a companion video are presented within a contemporary art setting, with the video projected behind as part of the installation, and both works contribute to a broader inquiry into the ship’s history and the early development of mass cruise culture during the artist’s stay at the Spanish Academy in Rome.
The creator tracked down the ship’s original menus and recreated them in collaboration with Javi Álvarez, who contributed the soundtrack, and Maral Kekejian, who collaborated on performance elements. The project also involved locating pottery artifacts recovered from the ship. The result is a video designed for overhead projection that communicates the stifling sense of control experienced by passengers during the rigid dining times, a regime described as highly military by the artist. Elena Ruiz, the director of MACE, notes that these expansive menus demand fullness as part of the alienation program.
Nothing in the presentation is incidental: the German meals function to illustrate the same goal behind the leisure program used for the working class under the totalitarian Nazi regime. In the artist’s words, the aim was to produce comfortable people with nerves of steel, to advance a political narrative that elevated a future of vacation and national pride. The scene of travel is framed as a duty fulfilled, with the ultimate objective of glorifying German culture above all else. The piece also highlights the role of sports and physical activity in shaping a population’s sense of belonging under dictatorship.
Origin of mass tourism
Irene de Andrés sought the roots of mass tourism: the emergence of colossal cruise ships that could dominate cities and disembark thousands of travelers in a single moment. The artist began this historical exploration in 2015, tracing patterns of tourism that resemble colonial mediations and the predatory dynamics that accompany rapid, large-scale travel. She notes striking parallels between colonial ventures and contemporary tourism, where popular destinations become stages for a modern form of conquest. The United States emerges as a contemporary focal point in these reflections, illustrating how leisure and travel have evolved into a vehicle for cultural and economic power.
The inquiry leads toward Prora, the infamous Nazi resort town, and back to the Wilhelm Gustloff, a ship that embodies the era’s push for mass mobility. Marina Meyer contributed design insights, and the publication features original postcards sourced from a former collector, co-authored by de Andrés and Marta Ramos-Izquierdo. The dialogue references Thomas Cook and Kraft durch Freude as early pioneers of mass tourism, while acknowledging how later regimes adapted the model for ideological ends. The artist emphasizes that the travel template established in the 1930s persisted and transformed across different political contexts.
The project, The Ship Won’t Wait, serves as a reminder that the rhetoric of pleasure on cruises has long carried a second, controlling purpose. De Andrés frames this warning as a sober observation in the cruise menu itself, urging viewers to consider how leisure can be engineered to sustain political power.
The public is invited to reflect on how dictatorships of the 1930s designed systems that controlled leisure to win support among workers and to weaken unions that had challenged power during earlier centuries. The work also considers the paradox of joy proclaimed by the regime and the stark reality behind it, including the advertising impact of powerful visuals that promised happiness and a horizon of prosperity. One image that resonated with viewers is the portrayal of an Aryan couple gazing toward the distance, a stark representation of the era’s messaging about travel, happiness, and a manufactured dream of national progress.
Elena Ruiz highlights two compelling aspects of the artist’s practice: Irene de Andrés is a prolific creator who also functions as a researcher, delving deeply into sensitive themes while maintaining a strong visual sensibility that anchors the project in tangible materials and documentary insight. This dual approach enriches the work, offering both aesthetic resonance and rigorous historical inquiry.
De Andrés plans to finish editing a video next year that reflects on the current evolution of cruise tourism, which she views as unsustainable. The project remains critical of the environmental impact of large-scale ships and the limited economic benefits they bring to port cities. The underlying argument is clear: contemporary cruise practices, while marketed as leisure and adventure, continue to mirror the patterns of control and profit that defined the early 20th century.