Constantin Brâncuși, the Romanian sculptor of modernism, is back in Germany after a 50-year break. Organized in collaboration with Centre Pompidou Paris, this rare exhibition dedicated to the artist has just opened at Neue Nationalgalerie Berlin, running until August 9.

This is only a modest introduction to an overwhelming legacy. Brâncuși stands as one of the influencers behind what we now call modern art — and modernism. You could see it even outside the museum: long lines of people, surrounded Neue Nationalgalerie on March 19, for the exhibition’s vernissage.

2026 marks 150 years since Brâncuși was born — 19 February 1876 — in Hobița, România. He later moved to Paris, becoming the prolific artist we know today.

Inside, more than 150 works unfold: a partial reconstruction of Brâncuși’s studio, sculptures, self-portraits, photographs, and rare video documents. Together, they form one of the most complete exhibitions of his work to date.

I visited just after the opening, carrying a mix of overwhelming emotions — even before stepping into the Neue Nationalgalerie. Partly because, although Brâncuși spent most of his life in Paris, we share the same Romanian heritage.

Admiring his impressive work, a sudden sense of familiarity flooded my senses. It became even more clear why Brâncuși is considered a pioneer (even the father) of modernism.

Seeing his art live for the first time also made me better understand why I’ve always been drawn to Bauhaus. It feels like a step-brother — both part of the same avant-garde movement of the 20th century.

Wood, precisely carved into near-perfect abstract forms. Bronze, endlessly polished, transformed into glowing works of art. Symbolism everywhere. Clean lines. Smooth surfaces.

A quiet balance between a gently hidden purity, metaphysics, and spirituality. Everything reduced — yet everything felt. You don’t need more than a few shapes to realize what Brâncuși was expressing.

As often happens with geniuses, Brâncuși was far from being understood by art critics of his time. The East couldn’t keep him; the West often misread him. In the United States, his work even triggered legal debates about whether it could be considered art at all.

Walking through the exhibition — seeing photos and films of Brâncuși smashing then carving stone in his Paris atelier, his eyes, determined expression – really left a mark on me.

Among my favorites is “Bird in Space” – a three decades-long exploration of birds in flight, shaped in bronze, marble, and plaster. There’s plenty of abstract symbolism, spirituality, simply presenting humanity in a raw, artsy form.

Then, I was impressed by Endless Column (Coloana Infinitului) and The Kiss — simple in form, yet profound in meaning: humanity reaching for the stars, always searching, endlessly aiming for love and perfection.

I left Neue Nationalgalerie Berlin feeling both grateful and overwhelmed. This is an exhibition I can only highly recommend — and one that stands as a real collaborative effort between Germany, România, and France.

Will definitely return before August 9. Brâncuși has a way of reshaping the mind — quietly, but deeply.