An exhibition called Beneath the Roof by Eyob Kitaba, curated by Jermay Michael, unfolds as a reflective and carefully constructed exploration of urban transformation and the layered nature of material memory in Addis Abeba. Eyob Kitaba, a visual artist and academic based in the city, combined architecture, archival inquiry, memory, and lived experience, consistently examining how space reflects history. In this exhibition, he shifted attention towards the often-overlooked surfaces above us the ceilings that have quietly accompanied generations of daily life inviting viewers to reconsider these familiar structures not simply as architectural elements, but as silent witnesses to personal and collective values that continue to shape the experience of home.

The project draws from a vernacular construction practice once widespread in Ethiopian homes, commonly known as kornis, a term derived from the Italian “cornice” primarily means a frame (like for a picture or photo), a border, or an architectural ledge. That has been woven into the Amharic lexicon and refers to a framed ceiling, pointing to a layered cultural history shaped by encounter, adaptation, and reinterpretation. This architectural style, made by repeatedly soaking fabric in plaster and fixing it within quadrangular frames, created a space between the interior and the roof, forming what was essentially an attic. Within this in-between space, traces of both personal and collective memory have settled over time, quietly gathering dust alongside fragments of stories that were never meant to be archived but remained preserved nonetheless.

The exhibition showcased multiple old roofs whose changing colors, visible cracks, and accumulated moisture became artworks in themselves. These surfaces designated the quiet evidence of time, climate, and habitation. The installations were further enriched by regular items recycled from demolished homes including brooms, doors, and fragments of furniture. These elements deepened the archaeological quality of the work and transformed the gallery into something resembling a site of excavation rather than display. Within this gathering of remnants, one could sense both a marking of an ending and an invitation to engage with a form of nostalgia that is active and reflective rather than merely sentimental, a nostalgia that asks viewers to reconsider what disappears when buildings vanish from the city’s landscape.

As you move through the last room where the Korkoro collections are displayed, another layer of urban symbolism begins to unfold. Here, you encounter the older Korkoro structures long recognized across Addis Abeba for the satellite dishes mounted above them, which were once familiar markers of the city’s skyline but are now gradually being replaced by newer versions that reflect the ongoing development and changing technological rhythms of the urban landscape.

The long roofs painted with palm trees and forest imagery, patterns that appear repeatedly throughout neighborhoods, were also part of the exhibition. In this room the presence of the urban setting felt particularly strong, as if fragments of the skyline itself had been gently relocated into the museum. The combination of old and new objects created a dialogue between memory and modernization that echoed the changing identity of the city itself.

The artist himself was inviting visitors to sit and observe the portraits placed across the ceiling surfaces, since this was the only room in the museum with a long bench sat directly in front of the installation. The bench subtly encouraged viewers to pause rather than pass through. It transformed spectatorship into a slower and more deliberate experience, asking the audience to remain with the work long enough for associations to unfold. In that stillness, the ceiling shifted from background structure to central protagonist, asking to be read as carefully as any painting placed on the wall.