There has been substantial evidence for the theory, according to the German philosopher Peter Sloterdijk, that it is far less important for humans to know who they are, than where they are. The persistent ignorance regarding one’s place of existence is one of the causes for what newer philosophy calls oblivion of being.

The inquiry after the “where” and the placing of one’s person and works represent central aspects of Wilhelm Scherübl’s work. His work realizes itself in the examination of his locations of residence and life, and in the integration of the respective condition of the places and resources which he finds there.

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Scherübl lives in the country, in upper Ennstal, where he sometimes paints outdoors, using trees and plants for his works, and plays with reflections on natural water surfaces for his light installations. His art is a reflection on nature and the attempt to attain insights into artistic and natural processes of development, as well as into the complexity of the earth’s organism and our own finiteness.

The artist acts as an initiator here, he begins a process for which he formulates basic conditions which, in the end, still escape his control for the most part. The process leaves growth, light, cold, and wind to nature. By freezing the paint outdoors, the so-called Minusaquarelle (“minus watercolors”) are formed: only then do moments of the completion of his light installations on the water emerge, when the surface is flat and undisturbed by wind. The plant installations are subject to the natural cycle of growing, blooming, and withering.

Conversely, installations in which plants are transplanted into artificial and/or artistic contexts and are therefore dependent on life-supporting measures, refer to the concept of nature as something which is in principle made possible through production, as well as to the attempt of humans to disconnect themselves from natural processes.

The anonymous, living sculptures in states of perpetual change reflect on the imperfect, the temporary, and the unformulated. With a background in sculpture, Scherübl - who attended the Academy of Fine Arts and completed his degree under Bruno Gironcoli –has progressively shifted his focus from form to transformation. His works represent the overlying process and the physical energy which flows into it, as well as those things that are left out—like chips of stone—which Scherübl then incorporates into new developing cycles of works. What is essential here is the time aspect: transformations develop over time and possess their own rhythm. Scherübl’s idea of making efficient use of time paradoxically involves time consuming techniques in order to fill up large surfaces of paper with ball-point pen or pencil, or to gradually obscure windowpanes with many small brush lines. Through these works, the time and the energy which something needs in order to come into being becomes tangible.

Coming into and out of existence, artificial and natural light: these are also themes to which Scherübl dedicates an installation which can currently be viewed in the exhibition “Nature - Creation is not finished!“ at Stift Admont. The “Hall for Artistic Intervention“ was set up by the artist with a light installation in which a network of power cords branch out in tributary-like forms, representing the transformation of energy, and lead to a fluorescent sign reading “ENNS”, making reference to the river to which he lives nearby. Books from the Stift Admont library show illustrations of sunflowers: the ultimate light seeker. “I am addicted to light“, says Wilhelm Scherübl. (sh/jn)

A grid-like strut frame, constructed out of several vertical and horizontal aluminum rods, stands in the space, and is held both together and upright by means of a chaotic network of wide black rubber bands with no visible beginning or end. The sculpture conveys a precarious stability, based on workings of gravity, traction, pressure, and friction. Bringing attention to the forces that constitute a work is a central concern of the artist, Michael Kienzer. Through the methods of interlacing, interweaving, and extensive tension, he creates links, references, connections between things and materials, and thereby reveals the fact that it is not the elements themselves, but the mutual relations between the elements—what is formed in between—that represents the character of a work.

Kienzer completed his degree at the Kunstgewerbeschule in Graz and the University of Applied Arts in Vienna, where he studied sculpture under Bruno Gironcoli. For his work—which has received numerous awards, among them the Monsignore Otto Mauer Award—he uses various media; for objects, installations, and designs, he takes different approaches to themes such as space, time, surface, compression, materiality, image, and the original. His sculptural interventions are mostly site-specific, working within the means of a given space. For example, in a lapidary fashion, two aluminum plates are set up straight across a space, supported only by themselves and the walls, drawing attention to the physical forces at work, therby shifting them, and changing the viewer’s perspective of the structures, which at first appear unalterable.

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Some of Kienzer’s works—especially those which are located in public and semi-public spaces—invite the viewer to take part in them. As a communicative work of art, the artist describes a space constructed out of thirty doors, which was on display as a major feature of MUMOK sculpture series, “Out Site”, in the following way: one can arrive here into a liminal space, a gap. For his current installation, “hanging around“, in the Bruno Kreisky Park in Vienna, the artist stretched a few hammocks between trees, which emphasize the spaces in between them and makes them usable. The stretching and interweaving also shape the principles of construction and representation that are present here.
This theme finds its strongest expression in the sculptures in which wires, pipes, rope, and rubber bands are intertwined into inextricable balls, forming different units of materiality. The coming together of the various materials directs one’s attention to their characteristics–smooth, raw, flexible, rigid—and how these characteristics work on one another. The materials themselves are an important topic for Kienzer. Most of the time, he uses semi-manufactured materials such as wire, glass and aluminum plates, bars, rope, rubber bands, as well as everyday household items such as tape, tin cans, glass bottles, and erasers—but these are not used in the readymade sense. The materials and objects seem to be or are, in fact, new, untreated, carry no traces, have no history, and represent a pure presence in their respective functions in the works of art.

Their composition raises the question concerning their conditions and balances of power: when rolls of tapes are piled up one on top of another forming a post that seems to be supporting the ceiling, or telephone boxes are placed one on top of the other, or a pile of paint cans replace one beam of an aluminium installation, or a helium balloon is suspended in the air with tape, an order of the things and the forces involved become a subject of examination. The view is one of pragmatic irony, the work of art without the narrative. Dubravka Ugresic asks a friend “What is art?“ in her novel, “The Museum of Unconditional Surrender “. “An activity which has something to do with overcoming the force of gravity—but not with flying. “ (sh/jn)

The works of Michael Kienzer can be viewed at Galerie Thoman .

In our age, identity has become something of an obsession. Andy Warhol predicted the perennial pursuit of one’s “15 minutes of fame”, and celebrity status represents the ultimate destination of success. The art world has been far from exempt from this trend: the persona of a well-known artist is often as carefully crafted as his artwork. The cult of personality can reap considerable profits, as the latest record-breaking artworks of Klimt, Picasso, and Pollock will attest to. The elusive nature of creative genius garners a level of worship that makes today’s museum as sacred a place as yesterday’s cathedral.

One of the most exciting tendencies of art is its ability to constantly upend itself. Styles are meant to be challenged, theories debunked, rules broken. In the end, the role of art is to make us see things differently, and just when we think we have done, shake up our world again.

Just as we read about the latest most expensive painting being sold, or the hottest young art star hitting the scene, a quiet countermovement is taking place. The cult of personality is making way for the quest for anonymity. Art collectives shun what they see as outdated values such as egoism, fame, and recognition. Avoiding limiting designations such as roles or credits, collectives bring the focus back to the work itself, art for art’s sake.

“The most radical gesture of art is its own existence,” is a key line in The Bruce High Quality Foundation’s (BHQF) artist’s statement. This young art collective, based in Brooklyn, NY, has successfully maintained a studio and “career” based on the spirit of collaboration. Although they have never cited any of their individual names in the press and until now, have not even really shown their faces, their philosophy is not necessarily about “obfuscating shit”, or strategically dodging identification. Their vibe is more about the “liberating qualities of fiction”, the principle that “facts” do not necessarily lead to the “truth”. BHQF’s avoidance of pin-down-able “facts” creates interesting challenges such as not qualifying for an official Wikipedia entry (Wikipedia requires “facts” that can be verified twice in publications), or often being “misrepresented” in the press.

But these aspects are all part of the fun. Perhaps it is not surprising that this (loosely defined) collective of young gentlemen are often characterized by a form of highbrow hijinks: playful references (e.g., superimposing “Bruce’s” face on famous artworks), wacky interventions (e.g., staging a “protest” at the Art Basel art fair in Miami), and mass open events (e.g., producing their own interpretation of “Cats on Broadway”). The work often resembles a form of fratboy pranks dreamed up by art school intellectuals.

But perhaps the most fascinating aspect of collectives is their will to exist and persist. According to “the Bruces”, their most commonly asked question is how long “the experiment” will last. Political projects could probably take a cue from the Bruces’ formula of success, which involves a combination of fluidity, openness, and genuine camaraderie. Until now, it’s been working and there doesn’t seem to be any end in sight. (jn)

Maria Teresa Ponce understands how people develop a nostalgia for the country they have left behind, where their own friends, family, places, experiences, and history have remained. Ponce left Ecuador when she was nine and moved to the US, where she spent her youth, and studied architecture. After she completed her degree, she returned to Ecuador to find a country in economic crisis, with no work to be found for young architects.

This crisis resulted in Ponce turning to art: she began to take photographs. She experienced that photography opened up new worlds which interested her, but to which she hardly had access. Her photographic work investigates the inner world of prisons, including their inmates. She then digitally superimposed the photographs from the prisons onto photographs of a condemned hospital building, thereby representing the ailments of an institution meant for rehabilitation. Her landscape photography, taken along a pipeline which runs from the Amazon rainforest to the Pacific coast, gives the impression that wealth and economic prosperity are being siphoned outside the country through a hermetically sealed channel. Ponce’s work is characterized by her search for these areas and her willingness to expose herself them, as well as their inhabitants.

One aspect of Ponce’s documentary style is an intentional staging of scenes – some of her projects reveal an interventional approach. In the end, Maria Teresa Ponce works with the medium photography not only to produce pictures, but also to experience, and to evoke associations which are easy to miss. Sometimes, the artist says, she finds herself bordering on activism, the term “photographer” falls short of a proper artistic self-definition. (wh/jn)

In 1771, Louis Sébastien Mercier published the novel 2440, which depicts an utopia of a convenient, more ideal, distant future world. Utopias had already existed in the past. However, in Mercier’s utopia, the ideal world is not stumbled upon – for example, through a storm in which one is shipwrecked and washed up onto the shore of the ideal place – but rather a result of a linear history that is played out through human action. “Some were immediately enlightened from the beginning, but the majority of the nation was still careless and childlike. Gradually, the population became more intelligent. We still have much more to accomplish than what we have created so far. We are only halfway there,” according to the caretakers of the future regarding the intermediate conditions of the half-realized utopia. Mercier’s narration of the gradual realization of an ideal world carried out by mankind is a modern vision – with human capital, reason, and faith, as applied to technical, rational progress, as its focal points.

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The modern visions of progress exploded upon its realizations. This we had to recognize in the centuries that followed. The modern project is halfway down a path which leads it further, however not necessarily forward, and the faith in this common path of mankind towards an ideal world, whose vision Mercier calls “The Dream of All Dreams”, eventually fades. Generally speaking, both on the large and small scale, the conception of a more optimal world multiplies, and instead of one movement towards reaching one big goal, juxtaposition and constant flux of means and ways takes its place.

The sculptures and public interventions of the Canadian artist Michel de Broin refer to a certain extent to the intermediate conditions of this halfway point. They capture those transformations that have resulted from the greater history of modern progress, objects which are already slightly outdated but still determine our everyday life: for example, the car, that status symbol of progress, which is usually only used by one person at a time, consuming gas and destroying the environment. However, at the same time, de Broin’s works also refer to the many new formulas for progress: a general slowing-down as a strategy for environmental protection, a balanced economy without a loss of energy, postindustrial visions of sustainability – and the appropriate means towards this conversion which occupy our life.

De Broin’s work translates and highlights such visions of optimization and reveals their inner tendencies and contradictions, sometimes through exaggeration, but often only through showing examples of possible realizations. He breaks down the restrictive definitions of old and new forms of dogmatic idealism without becoming didactic. His style corresponds more to that of one who is playing hooky from such lessons, summoned by his instinct for playful exploration, poking fun at the “progress” and “efficiency” that is holding back the world. (wh/jn)

For a long time, contemporary art was strictly a national phenomenon in Turkey and was therefore, to a large extent, ignored internationally. This has changed. In the 1970s and 80s, artists such as Füsun Onur, Ayse Erkmen, Gülsün Karamustafa, Hale Tenger have begun to break through traditional and national orientations and to bring in international influences. As international attention grew stronger in the 90s and the Istanbul Biennales offered venues of presentation and publicity to the more progressive contemporary art of Turkey, awareness of the value of this art and its development was promoted locally. The recent generation of Turkish artists profited from these changes both thematically and professionally.

One of the internationally renowned Turkish artists of the post-2000 generation is Ahmet Ögüt. The past twelve months of the 27-year-old artist, who lives and works in Istanbul and Amsterdam, have been densely packed: his work has been featured in group exhibitions in San Francisco, Berlin, Sydney, Athens, Eindhoven, Seoul, Helsinki, Santa Fe, Nimes, Malmö, Stockholm, Zagreb, London, Banja Luka, and Stuttgart. In addition, he has had solo exhibitions in Basel and Barcelona, three Biennales, as well as numerous online and print contributions.

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Painting, performance, video, sculpture, photography, design, installation—Ahmet Ögüt utilizes a variety of artistic media in order to provide multiple ways of accessing his ideas. In his work, he captures ordinary events: actions, articles, and situations which we encounter on a daily basis and take for granted, thereby no longer falling under our range of perception. The shrewd interventions in which Ahmet Ögüt positions these everyday occurrences bring the unexpected to the surface: the instituting of national power and the fixing of both social differences and indifferences. However, idealism, hope, individual resistance, and powerlessness also become apparent. It reminds us, says Ahmet Ögüt about the effect of his art, of something which we already know, but have forgotten to notice.

In place of the often hermetic approach of theory, the artist uses the anecdotal and playful absurd in order to address his audience. Despite this seemingly lighthearted approach, his work is also critical and exhibits a clear partiality towards the inquisitive, open-minded, experimental side of mankind. He wants, says Ahmet Ögüt, not to instruct, but to remind. In his artistic-political self-conception, he is not so much interested in grand narratives, but rather in modest anecdotes, which one can easily grasp. These do not require that much time in order to be understood, leaving enough time for us to mull them over. (wh/jn)