Photo: Anna Motzel
When I do art I feel as if I am going in a mental space/ landscape in which I am alone, there are no sounds and it is a place of wreck, abandoned.
I wander around there and look at the pieces of materials. Nothing comes together to something recognizable, but everything seems to belong to the place and together. Everything, all the materials look dry: concrete, metal, rust, but even the puddles or the mud seem dry. And I walk and look around. My eyes jump between abstract compositions, and once in a while, something catches me: some arrangement, composition, that look like a solved equation. I fixate on it. An arrangement in which all the parts in it and the relations between them are in a state in which they solve each other, and there are wonder and beauty in it. A phenomenon. I think, not about doing artwork, I think about all those pieces in that space. Sometimes they are not solved, but open, and sometimes they and I and the entire world are in the moment part of the phenomenon. And I reflect in them and they in me, or sometimes without reflections, we are all, together, there, present.
And in those states, in these relationships, there is usually a formalistic and materialistic logic. The understanding of it is similar to the understanding of the functionality of an object. But in these phenomena, no function serves an action that I want to do. It is a phenomenon like that there is a flower. But not like a flower, my direct actions with the materials enabled this phenomenon. I am a direct part of it. This is my art.