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GERMAN
Conversation between Katja Blomberg and Clemens Krauss
Haus am Waldsee, Berlin, December 12, 2005
B:
When studying your series Das Körperkörper-Problem (The Body-Body
Problem), one is struck initially by the open, rough surface – which is
evocative of fissures and wounds. How is your painting related to your
former profession as a physician?
K:
Well, naturally the use of impasto oil paints has its implications. The
application of, at times, centimetre-thick layers of paint does not
create a homogenous intact body surface – but the cracked paint and the
structure convey the impression of injury. However, that is just one of
many associations. In principle I would say that both the content and
also the application of all the technical media provide an indication as
to my scientific background.
B:
The paintings are in fact very plastic, creating the impression that you
are more a sculptor than a painter. The figures are enclosed, the
canvasses left largely white. One sees body fragments, which in the
interior drawing are completely detached. Has this whiteness, this
aseptic quality, this sense of detachment something to do with your
professional clinical background?
K: In
this context, aseptic is, of course, a splendid word. However, to what
extent the paintings are directly connected to the aseptic reality of
daily clinical practice is difficult to judge. What I can say with
certainty, though, is that the works are based on the principle
consideration of why one paints at all. Despite my background in
painting, I wouldn’t describe myself as a painter, in the true sense of
the word, as someone who stands in front of a canvas and paints until it
is “finished”. Both in intellectual and methodological terms, my
approach is probably more multimedia-oriented. That doesn’t just mean
that I work with other media, but rather that I initially seek the most
suitable medium for each particular project. After all, I could equally
have arranged the figures in the painting series Das Körperkörper-Problem
as photographs – however, the application of the pastose paints as an
autonomous element led me to opt for painting. The paint itself does
more than just represent – it is a material and thus fulfils its own
function.
B: You
worked with photography in another project, namely in the series
Look-alikes, which at first glance resemble cloned human beings –
although you fount the protagonists randomly in the most diverse social
contexts.
K: The
people depicted in the series Look-alikes are not related to each other,
they live in different towns and have probably never met each other. We
have all encountered the situation of suddenly meeting a person who
instantly reminds us of an acquaintance and bears a striking resemblance
to this person. However, such similarities are mere coincidence. Even
comparing a person’s character traits with their external features,
which from a scientific perspective is totally absurd, does –
coincidentally – throw up the odd correlation. In the first instance,
however, the question of the uniqueness of Man and the stability of the
individual in the genetic age are at issue here.
B:
Conversely, in your painting you are concerned with similarities to a
certain extent. Using your own body as a model, you imitate specific
postures or gestures, culled from adverts or the media, for example, and
transfer them as moving figures into your own painting. Despite, on the
one hand, appearing to be moved from within, they give the outward
impression of being relatively controlled, both relaxed and detached –
corresponding with our current ideals of beauty. At the same time, the
commonality between the individuals is continually explored.
K:
Poses and postures are – in my opinion – subject to the prevailing
fashions of the day. Certainly the members of one generation or age show
great similarities in this regard, and probably would have struck
different poses 100 years ago.
B:
Doubtless in your project Sprechstunde (The Consultation Hour), you were
aware that people – despite their individual differences – also display
similarities in the nature of their problems.
K: The
basic pattern of the issues and problems are at times very similar. One
finds the typical sensibilities for typical character types. This should
in no way be understood as a cliché, but, as the project hitherto has
been conducted in an art context, I continually encounter the typical
protagonist within the art public: young to middle-aged, educated,
body-conscious, but evincing a tendency towards neurosis.
B:
Starting from the series Teil eines langsamen Selbstporträts (Part of a
Slow Self-Portrait) and the current painting series featuring the
detached bodies, I’ve begun to wonder: Is this perceived from the
outside or inside, are these extracts, cross-sections or even cuts?
K:
Fundamentally I see the works as a series and as a process. Both the
texts in the paintings and the figures themselves are fragments or even
extracts, which have no beginning and no end, and which consequently
leave a number of things open. As I sometimes find it difficult to
distinguish conceptually between the dualistic principle of the external
and internal, I can’t state exactly from which side the perspective
comes. But I like the word cut – as it reminds me of the pleasure in
making a surgical incision.
B:
However, in the work Großes Selbstporträt (Large Self-Portrait) you
thematise specifically the skin as a barrier between the external and
internal. It is evidently the membrane as a boundary which interests
you.
K: The
skins symbolises more a barrier of perception. When I approach something
visually, be it faces or bodies, the information entering my retina
initially ends on the surface – although it is always my intention in
photography or painting to penetrate from the exterior deep into the
interior. By the same token, we perceive skin in psychological terms, as
a boundary between the interior and the external environment. In
addition, I also find it interesting to thematise the centuries-old
heroic artists’ self-porträt itself, and, to a certain extent, its
failure.
B:
Evidently, you are once again concerned with surfaces and similarities.
As an observer I find myself wondering: Where does the truth lie here?
Does it lie beneath the surface or, for example, within the surface?
K: To
a lesser or a greater degree all these works are concerned with the
representation of the body. I am not necessarily alluding to the human
biological body, and certainly not to an imitational representation of
it. Rather more, I am focussing on the experience of the body. This can
be rendered experiential using the most diverse methods: as a haptic
painting, as the expression of similarity or in the form of an intimate
medical discussion. And the so-called truth proves itself to be a
treacherous phenomenon, since superficially it can reveal itself to be a
deception, and ultimately a disappointment.
B: The
transition from the natural sciences to art in your career is
particularly interesting. What was your motivation to shift your field
of research, as it were?
K: For
me it was less a shift and more of an expansion. Science is still
producing the most exciting developments and unearthing new knowledge,
for example, in quantum mechanics or biotechnology. However, I found
myself drawn more towards the Fine Arts as I am more interested in
artistic devices, such as exaggeration, irony or criticism than in
scientific methods, such as measurement or quantification.
B:
Recently, you exhibited your paintings at the Art Basel Miami Beach,
where they sold very well. How are you coming to terms with the current
boom on the art market and particularly on the market for painting?
K: I
always like to point out that I was already painting when painting was
completely “out”, and equally I will continue to paint when it has long
since stopped being “in”. This genre is much too honourable and has too
many media-related advantages for me to simply abandon it to the latest
fashionable trends. Of course, I am not unhappy at the growing interest
of collectors and of the art market: Yet I don’t produce works to cater
for a specific scene or market, but prefer instead to influence the
market in which my works then may come to gain importance. My last
project, for example, was a short video piece, in which I invested a
great deal of time and money, and which theoretically prevented me from
producing other, more saleable works. But, there again, if I was in it
for money I would have stayed in medicine.
B: You
have been engaged in this field for a remarkably short time and,
relatively speaking, you are at the beginning of your career. How will
it continue?
K
Fortunately as an artist you don’t have to plan too far in advance, you
are continually being confronted with new political and social topics
every day. Currently at the major art fairs, we are experiencing the
situation in which, apart from sales, the quality of the intellectual
discourse is assuming great significance. Accordingly, they are becoming
more important, on the one hand, for the development and influence on
artistic trends. On the other hand, however, the turnover of artworks at
such major events is considerable. I find this phenomenon interesting in
itself, and I think that this in future will be more strongly reflected
in my work – since I am, of course, also interested in how problematic
trends and, consequently, the counter-trends evolve. How cautiously
should we embrace this development?
B: I
think we do have to be cautious because one always has to clarify – as
we have tried in this discussion – whether the issue is about content or
about the artwork as a commodity. And at the moment the pendulum is
swinging strongly into the direction of painting becoming a commodity
again. Also the cult of the genius is celebrating a come-back, and at a
time in which “stars” are featuring strongly again. On the one hand,
this raises the profile of contemporary art in the public eye, yet, on
the other hand, we can assume that many people buy art merely for
decoration or in order to enhance their image as intellectuals.
K:
Collectors and patrons have always existed and they will continue to
exist in future as an integral pillar of the art scene. Is this
development related to political situations or social upheavals?
B:
There have always been times in the most diverse cultures in which a
certain social class suddenly enjoyed new-found wealth – relatively
speaking – as, for example, in the Netherlands in the 17th century,
where overnight a bourgeois mercantile class emerged and stocked up with
works of art. Or in Japan in the 19th century where for various reasons,
a certain social class suddenly came into money, yet were deprived of
certain privileges due to their background. For example, they were not
allowed to acquire land or build houses. Consequently in a number of
districts in Tokyo, an art market for erotic woodcarvings emerged to
service this class of buyers. Currently we are experiencing the
generation of the “inheritors”, or people who have made their money in
the New Economy and prefer to buy art rather than expensive cars.
K:
Once again, it has become clear how closely art is related to eroticism
and desire, and one is automatically reminded of the Freudian “fetish
object”. Denial is pointless, and even I collect art and exchange works
with my artist friends.
B: The
motivation certainly also lies in the erotic realm; the pleasure in
hunting is almost more important than actually securing possession of
something. But conceptually art is about much more. Roland Barthes once
said that we stumble from one thing to another, and, by virtue of this
endless stumbling, we continually defer the question of meaning to a
later date. This
inadvertent tumbling into such a major issue ultimately culminates in
the question of: what defines Man? His appearance? His attire? His
movement? Or is it that which we call the soul?
K: The
soul is for me, first and foremost a conceptual problem. But to answer
the question as to what defines Man in purely scientific terms would be
rather boring. Spontaneously I would say that it is about primarily love
and sex.
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