Klonen im Kerzenschein / Cloning at Candlelight

 

Christoph Schreiber (CH)

 

“Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,

But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,

Whose action is no stronger than a flower?”

(William Shakespeare)

 

A poet’s love towards a young man, a poet’s strong love for his mistress, the young man’s infidelity with the poet’s mistress – what sounds like the basic outline for a soap opera, is, in fact, William Shakespeare’s attempt to come to terms with the ravages of time on both love and life. The concept of beauty, the fate of aging, and the longing for immortality are principal forces in the theatre of life, whether performed in literature, in soap operas, in Western philosophy or in life itself.

 

The exhibition “Cloning at candlelight” shows digitally reworked, collage-like photography and an object with a frame and a flock all depicting the manner of classical still lifes. A bouquet of flowers in front of a window, a butterfly against a turquoise background, the empty skin of a caterpillar creeping out of a cappuccino cup, or a cicada flying into a scenery emanated from a Romanticist painting evoke surreal worlds of poetry, life and deadly encounters. It seems to be the distortion of truth in such a way that it appeared accurate unless viewed from the proper angle. Jean Baudrillard argues that a simulacrum is not the copy of the real, but becomes truth in its own right. One can characterize simulacra as the avenue by which accepted ideals or “privileged position” could be challenged and overturned. Photographic pictures order and structure our view of the world. It is precisely the massive number of images that makes it evident that what is depicted is subject to an order. The constructive nature of images of the world remains largely hidden, not so in the work of Christoph Schreiber: His images make the order itself apparent. Existing images are cited, appropriated, and collaged combining art historical references with elements of popular culture, or better, the commodified image of the commercial product.

 

Still lifes, popular in Western art since the 16th century, often contained religious and allegorical symbolism relating to the objects depicted. Especially the vanitas paintings became a symbolic reminder of life’s impermanence. But in contrast to the moralistic impetus of Dutch still lifes, Schreiber’s approach is much more connected to the radicalness and openness of Shakespeare’s sonnets. They convey a strong emotional current entering into dreamscapes like in “Trugschluss” (Fallacy). The chopped fish-head, neatly arranged on a silver plate, seems to have entrapped a dragonfly. With humor, Schreiber looks at the basic tragedy of life in order to express the ambiguity of the immanent conflict between life and death and the impossibility of solving it.

 

The objects in the photographic images become something else, and stop us just at the moment of transformation. In “Zufriedener Klon” (“Content Clone”), Schreiber shows a pumpkin between two half-filled water glasses. The setting emerges against a dark background and reminds of Dutch chiaroscuro. Like in former centuries, his still lifes reflect the customs, ideas and aspirations of our time. They give us valuable insights into changes of mentality and philosophy as well as people’s notion of death. The pumpkin is hardly recognizable and becomes an organic form of human flesh. Are the glasses half-filed or half-emptied? Or do they refer to identical twins? The pitiful transience of life on earth, humanities’ old fight against mortality seems to reach a new epoch with the possibility of cloning. Huxley’s “Brave New World” anticipated the reproductive technology and is built upon the principles of Henry Ford's assembly line — mass production, homogeneity, predictability, and consumption of disposable consumer goods. Consumerism is already there like to be seen in the manufactured products in Schreiber’s images, but how will it be when our DNA is spliced and edited so we can all enjoy life-long bliss, awesome peak experiences? Who knows, in the meantime, we just act out variations on dramas scripted by selfish mortality fears. In the sonnets of Shakespeare, the final couplet provides us with some hope that there is something about mankind that will ultimately resist and defeat time – poetry and the human soul.

 

Schreiber’s self-reflexive strategies for dealing with images demonstrate why a photograph might be regarded as an authentic image of our times. In a poetic manner, he wants to permeate the very construction of reality. Aesthetics in all arts move us not just because of beauty or efficiency in expressing meaning but because we’re challenged at the deepest level by the questions that aesthetics pose about reality, knowledge, and even the meaning of life.

 

Bettina Steinbrügge, 2009

 

 

 

Belgische Pralinen / Belgian Pralines

Steve Viezens (D)


“If I knew what art is, I would keep it for me“ 

Steve Viezens treats this quote by Picasso as an encouraging invitation to make art. A charming, funny storyteller, he takes storytelling itself ad absurdum, by repeating motifs, conducting unconventional montages and colliding images, attitudes, and art genres that have actually nothing to do with each other, but because of the clash are enormously refreshed. Viezens moves between the seriousness of the old masters and mocking virtuosity while being elegant at all times. One may compare it with the work of the brilliant William Hogarth, who satirized his contemporaries without pity and with biting irony. 

The title of this show, “Belgian Pralines”, is the most recent addition to his disrespectful and witty handling of cultural history. We owe the praline to Lassagne who was “chef de bouche” (master of the household) to the Compte du Plessis-Praslin. One day, in the servants' quarters of his residence at Montargis, Lassagne found his children caramelizing almonds stolen from the kitchens. The wonderful odour emanating from the spot where the little cooks were at work gave away their guilty secret and its delicious results. With his mouth watering, Lassagne promised to keep quiet in exchange for some of the sweets. He perfected the recipe and took it to the court of Louis XIII, where the confection became known as “prasline”, not that the duke himself had anything to do with inventing it. The sweet that resulted had a broad success and even, it is said, contributed to certain diplomatic triumphs.

The word “praline” has many different meanings (not to mention at least three different pronunciations) in chocolate and confectionery so it can be confusing to figure out exactly what is being referred to. There is hardly any better metaphor for Viezens’ work. His manifold production –painting meets drawing, meets relief, meets linocut - grows into an amusing game of references, a clash of images and meanings. In doing so, he draws from the great wealth of art history, using Van Dyck, Velazquez, or Holbein, painting them over and modifying them so that the old masters can meet up with pop culture. Here, the old masterly prototypes catch up with a kind of fairy tale. Bats are flying around, a man with a lantern is seemingly lighting something up, colorful angel’s wings grow out of a man’s back, and a kneeling figure is worshipping a bunch of flowers rising towards the ceiling. All of these figures are cutouts reminding of the relief-sculptures that are known from Lucca della Robbia or Lorenzo di Ghiberti drawn in the manner of late Renaissance. Like the boys in the French kitchen, Viezens playfully re-arranges the known to something new. The sublime together with the kitschy become a postmodern potpourri, a punch line that throws itself into the arms of the viewer. 

Viezens gets entangled in stories that embody absurd situations and that are yet so close to current events. He depicts different levels of reality in which laughter appears as an ambivalent reaction: it is a deviation from the norm but also its return to it. But in the end, the theatre of life finds its own “Hintertürchen” (loophole). A loophole is the weakness in a system, an ambiguity or exception in a rule that can be exploited. It is reminiscent of the story of Dennis Hope who exploited what he calls a loophole in the 1967 Outer Space Treaty which forbids nations, but not individuals, from appropriating the moon and other celestial bodies. Hope has quietly sold parcels on the moon to some 300,000 people through his Rio Vista, California Company, Lunar Embassy. Viezens certainly doesn’t want to sell the moon, but he certainly reminds us with a wink about the absurdities of life.

 

Bettina Steinbrügge, 2009