|
Statements concerning spacework * urbanwork, 1998
|
|
About architecture: |
|
As a teenager, I was completely put off
by Bauhaus architecture. I found it to be solely a formal,
functional aesthetic. I was very doubtful about this type of
architecture because it seemed to have no content. Our school was
also a post-Bauhaus construction with the obligatory color guidance
system. It always gave me claustrophobia. I much preferred the kind
of industrial buildings my father designed because they were
developed from the engineer's perspective and because real
production took place in them. There was a clear reason for these
buildings: the installation of the real working world. |
|
|
In my sculptural work, I have always been
interested in taking over and defining spaces as I experience them.
I do this by reducing space to a two-dimensional area which I then
transform into a spatial body through sculptural forms. I don't
create sculpture by modeling but by studying specific places, their
functions, and the movement which takes place in them. I research
these places quite thoroughly - it's almost like field research!
When the Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich held an art
competition in 1997 for its new Institute for Pharmaceutical
Chemistry in Grosshadern, I sat down at the computer and researched
how pharmaceutical chemists develop models of new medicines. |
|
About space: |
|
Sure. Even when I open up a tree trunk to
expose its growth rings - like I did in 1988 with my work
Familienpanzer - my primary concern was investigating the "inner
space." This is why the confrontation with ceramics was so
important for me, i.e. one is working with hollow bodies. During
the first few years of my studies, I worked almost exclusively in
the shop and created many 1:1 works. I didn't make models, but had
to try the gravity of real sculptures - despite the physical
problems this presents - in order to know if my ideas would work
out at all in spaces like rooms. |
|
After thirteen years of working primarily on projects
for indoor spaces, I am finally starting to deal with outdoor
projects. Today, that's a major step - if one doesn't want to just
do "helicopter dropping," which simply "furnishes" free outdoor
spaces with sculpture. |
|
About
"Kunst-Am-Bau" (art at construction sites): |
|
I think that generally, autonomous sculpture is
dead. In Europe today, we live in such a complex system that it is
arrogant place autonomous sculptures in our dense cultural spaces.
They should be put on Mars! I think sculptors today must deal with
the environment intensively and seriously consider how the
remaining public spaces can be used suitably for humans. In the
seventies, artists who were still studying often specialized on
making little models and then having them enlarged by the casters.
And suddenly, big sculptures were in the world. In my travels
through many cities, I have often seen that even impressive
sculptures in the wrong environment can get bogged down and
neglected. This is why I am very careful with what I do even in the
early stages of production. |
|
About material: |
|
The success or failure of a structure depends entirely on whether it
enters a symbiosis with the material it's made of. I highly value
colleagues and architects who know their materials. Materiality
itself already has a certain power of expression and transports an
idea. There's a reason, after all, that for us - in contrast to the
USA, Belgium, or Spain - there is still such a strong taboo
attached to terracotta. |
|
About Vienna College of Applied Arts: |
|
If you have an idea for a particular space, you
should simultaneously try to potentiate this process using the
material. In Vienna, we had a very good workshop and a shopmaster
who showed us how to use all the machines. The second important
thing was the interdisciplinary nature of the curriculum: the
master class system was relatively open, and it allowed us to
become acquainted with nearly everything, up to the Weibel media
laboratory. |
|
About ecology: |
|
My works do imply a certain position on actual
issues which affect me. In the Havarie project (1993) I found it
horrifying - but also fascinating - that in our highly
technological world, a single-shell tanker could even be built, and
then loaded improperly so that it just burst in the end simply due
to thoughtless economizing measures. I wanted to represent the
incredible shifting of forces inside the chambers of the ship's
hull by dismembering a huge plaster form - which in and of itself
is not a particularly ecological material. In the end, I ended up
with a Schwitters-like construction whose alabaster outer surface
was completely amorphous and whose insides were very
structured. |
|
About perspectives: |
|
It's very important to me that a sculpture
"function" from all possible angles and is "alive" on many
different levels. This is why I often use CAD to plan larger room
concepts. CAD animations let me look at the sculpture from all
places in a room. This simulation technology also lets me show
others how a form develops from different angles. With my smaller
works for inside rooms, I work using human sizes, i.e. I imagine
people sitting on the floor whose eye level gives them a 1.45 m
high horizon. Outside sculptures created during the baroque were
made to be at the right perspective from a horse-drawn carriage.
Today, we assume that the viewer is at the height of a car
driver. |
|
Abuot a new marking system for bicycle paths, so-called motion-lines: |
|
That was an attempt to structure public space in an area I feel
especially competent in. I wanted to replace the conventional
pictogram of the tipped over bicycle rider with a series of
repeating characters on a sinus wave. The character, created from a
circle and an ellipse, was supposed to make the bicycle rider's own
movement - as well as the rotation of the wheel - clear.
|
|
About biology: |
|
I have become interested in
biology because of its relationship to city development and due to
the discourse on how cities can be defined in the future. Bionic
principles often arise in debates on the complexity of the urban
context. That means that a certain amount of knowledge on
self-organizing structures can be derived from observing
microorganisms. Diatoms, for example, are tiny one-celled plants
encased in silicate armor. The genetic code behind their incredibly
diverse structures, as well as the complex static webs these
organisms create, is absolutely unknown. |
|
About Diatoms: |
|
Haeckel saw diatoms through a very strong
microscope. Since the invention of the raster electron microscope
at the end of the sixties, it is also possible to photograph and
reproduce the fantastic forms which can be seen with it. The
fascinating thing is that the viewer can now penetrate the infinite
structural system of the diatoms, which constantly take on new
aesthetic forms under high magnification. Contrary to Mandelbrot
fractals, for which there is no scale of measurement because the
transformations take place outside of our categories. I got
interested in bionics and silicate chemistry when I started
learning about the structure of the computer. |
|
About two- and three-dimensional spaces: |
|
I push the individual rings of a wooden surface
up to create a plastic form. I first got the idea for my contours
from working with large pieces of wood. The model-like spatial
forms of these sculptures, which have dimensions of circa 1.5 by
1.5 meters, are elementary because they allow me to think with my
hands. Generally speaking, when I create a space, it's not an
analytic process. Rather, when I make my first sketch, I already
know the significance I want to give a particular location. Mostly
I concentrate on a circular form I want to open up. Then, I
immediately start building a model which I hang in the room on very
thin threads. Interestingly enough, my feeling for statics is still
good at up to 14 tons! |
|
About intuition: |
|
I wondered about this myself at first. Even
before I've simulated a sculpture, I walk around the imaginary form
in my dreams, so to speak, to get a feeling for how the individual
elements relate to each other in terms of the forces involved, and
to see how the work will actually look. That is reassuring, but sad
somehow, because I no longer have the "aha" experience when the
sculpture is finished. The sensation is actually the experiment,
and then I start working to realize the work with extreme
discipline - a process which still needs a lot of moderation.
Everyone involved in making a large work must be precisely informed
on its content and technology in order to guarantee its optimal
execution. |
|
About circles: |
|
The circle forms a center in its own manner,
without centering. The circle carries its own limitations within
it. One uses it to reduce the outer form of a basic shape to a
minimum, thus steering the viewer's eye to what's important. |
|
About
deconstructionist architecture: |
|
Purely functional construction will certainly
continue to exist. At a lecture by Frank Gehry in Los Angeles, it
occurred to me for the first time that deconstructionist
architecture defines itself exclusively as "construction art," and
that there is hardly any communication with applied artists. If an
artistic intervention were to take place, conflicts could easily
arise. Architecture like the new museum in Bilbao is fascinating to
me as a sculpture. Deconstructionist architecture may be too new
for the applied arts - there are still so many undiscovered
resources. |
|
About emptiness: |
|
I am sure that the places I deal with need my
interventions. I have absolutely no fear of empty rooms or walls.
In the 27-meter high inner courtyard of the Red Cross Hospital in
Munich there was an unbelievable downward suction. I think that my
work Kreuzblume was actually able to reverse this force and change
the feeling of the room. |
|
About soaring: |
|
My desire to intervene in rooms is founded upon
the fact that I always try to bridge the gap between human
dimensions and the speed of technology. Dealing with objects
virtually frees up a completely different category of thinking than
manual work with tools. The virtuality we experience during REM
phases of sleep, for example, when we reassociate daily events
completely chaotically - composing new films, so to speak - is
completely determined by us, as opposed to the virtual world of the
computer. |
|
During the REM sleep phase it is possible
to influence the course of a dream. The computer, however, just
eats up our time. In virtual rooms and when I use new media, I am
moving in other spheres. |
|
About new worlds: |
|
An art historian once told me that my newer
sculptures remind her of the Archigram ideas of the late sixties.
At that time, artists discussed the question whether a room is an
extension of the body and how new worlds can be created
architecturally. Think about the module systems popular then, which
had something hybrid about them. |
|
During that time, people were very much the
focal point of art, which concentrated greatly on interaction.
These ideas are current again because instead of the market,
experimentation was important. In discussions on the current media
world, it's important to redefine various forms and qualities of
room and space, and ask questions like what kind of room
construction is possible? What still needs to be materialized? In
what situations is a purely virtual representation sufficient? What
advantages does the tactile sense have over the visual or aural
senses? Material things have a great significance for me. The
things in a person's environment inevitably shape his or her
life. |
|
About public space: |
|
I think that designing places to fulfill a
purpose requires complex cooperation by interdisciplinary
specialists. Humanities scholars should work together with
sculptors, traffic planners, psychologists, and sociologists. I can
easily imagine a dialog of extreme positions, that is, physically
experiential moments in contact with interactive ones. I am sure
that personal exchange will again play an important role in the
future. |
|
Without sculptures made for a specific place,
an extremely
important dimension of experience would be lost. Especially those
artist who flirt with virtual dematerialization are the ones who
often have a strong desire to produce works 1:1. |
|
About "where" and "when": |
|
Many places in the world will certainly begin
to resemble each other more and more, due to the extreme degree of
information exchange. I don't just mean artificial environments
like Disneyworld - experiences in all industrialized countries are
becoming more and more alike. The supposed nomads are always
looking for familiar rooms in the hotel chains and living quarters
they frequent. A confrontation with a specific place as a topos, in
contrast, requires that one perceives this specific place with all
senses, thus countering the global trend towards sameness. |
|
top |