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form and decay
Work structures at Andreas Kempe
Andreas Kempe deals with the amorphous: hatching that proliferates over the picture surface and thereby thickens, the thicket of leaves in the forest or the fading outlines that remain when mushrooms decay. These structures are shapeless because they do not have clearly defined borders. they flow. The graphic network of lines in the etchings and monotypes decreases in density towards the edge of the picture. The foliage of the trees becomes lighter at their edges. And the outlines of the puddles that form when the mushrooms melt vary. They have a dark silhouette and a lighter one that surrounds them like an aura. The first seems clearly contoured and only on closer inspection can you see that it breaks out in small bulges, while the second gently blurs in a narrow transition zone.
However, the amorphous has a form that has its own significance and can also be described in it. It becomes a sign of formlessness. At the same time, it eludes a closer definition. That way it keeps moving. The formless is confronted with our urge to somehow grasp it, and so we describe it as "formless". This is actually a paradoxical process. Understanding the bulky appears as a kind of reaching into the void, because the liquid runs through our fingers.
At Kempe, however, the flow has stopped, the puddles have dried and the etchings have been printed. The movement has stopped. What remains is the trace. Each line of a graphic is the result of a manipulation, it marks the beginning and end of a motor action. It shows that there was an act in which it was created. A hatched field documents a wealth of these activities. As a whole, they appear uniform and yet viewed individually, they are individual. Side by side, they not only fill space, but also document the time that was spent labeling it. Kempe's etchings and monotypes remain in limbo, the denser the network becomes, the more the meaning of the individual line is relativized. One can try to focus on its course, to detach it from the field, but the overlaps, overlaps and density make this almost impossible. If at all it succeeds towards the edges. Every single action is "suspended" in the uniformity, and that in the peculiar double structure that this term offers, it threatens to get lost and yet it is preserved, precisely because it contributes substantially to the existence of the whole. As an individual she is almost nothing - Kempe's series of etchings bears the title next to nothing (2014) - in combination, surfaces and periods of time fill up.
On the other hand, Andreas Kempe's drawings and the effects of the mushrooms move within deliberately set frames. The dimensions of the etching plates are fixed, the bases for the drawings and the sprouting of the mushrooms are pigment prints from photographs. When drawing, the artist consciously follows the underlying motif: when the hatchings drawn crosswise over the foliage become more or less dense, they are based on the brightness values of the photograph and gradually cover them up. The original motif is transformed. In the graphic enactment as a physical action, the forest structure, which can hardly be grasped in detail in its movement, is transformed into a drawing. In the artistic process, Kempe enters the forest in a different way - the hike through the thicket is replaced by exploration with the drawing pen. The artist's reaction to the motif is comparable to the traces that Tintling leaves behind when it slowly melts away. The fungus (Coprinus) was formerly used to make ink, hence its name. It's almost as if the liquid is deliberately going through the areas of the prints that already have ink on them. It is almost magical when, for example, the dark, brown liquid fills the silhouette of the artist, who has sat down on a stool in front of three paintings (Bildling # 36, 2009/11). The decay process therefore appears less random than active. The mushroom creates an image, a form that is concrete in its outline. This "activity" enters into relation to artistic image-finding processes. The photographs that Kempe uses as a base show, among other things, works of art history. The process is self-reflective on several levels. The artist enters into a dialogue with the mushroom. The photo (Bildling #20 and #22, 2011) shows him in a sober, empty room. Only through the post-processing, the appearance of the trace of ink, does the originally undirected attitude find a counterpart. Where there was nothing during the recording situation, a figure emanates. The photographic rendering and the puddle are both images, they represent the artist's body on the one hand and the mushroom on the other, which are thus structurally related to one another. But the ink trail seems to claim a higher degree of reality. Compared to the abstract black and white of the photograph, which also suggests a temporal distance, it has a three-dimensional relief-like structure and, albeit reduced, color. In some places, lumps of material threaten to flake off, in others the liquid has soaked through the paper, which is clearly visible. The signs of decay in the ink painting, in turn, relativize the art's claim to eternity after the work has survived. Decomposition and decomposition apply not only to the short lifespan of the fungus, but to all living things and their legacy. Even if the unpredictably shaped ink stain in the picture only appears after the photograph, its position in it is already planned. The open space becomes the index for his appearance. The observation staged in the situation becomes a mirror for us in front of the picture. The stain is viewed from two different perspectives, on the one hand from the past by the artist, who conceptually plans its appearance, and on the other hand by us, who are looking at the completed process of decay. In this way, the production and reception processes are dynamically intertwined.
The temporal and spatial nesting of levels is also evident when Kempe shows one of his father's films in the place where it was made. In his work … bring the hawk into the forest (2007), he stretches a screen between two trees and projects a Super 8 film with nature shots onto it. This situation is then filmed again and becomes an independent video work. In the twilight the surroundings can still be seen, the trunks, the leaves on the ground and the branches; but it's already dark enough for the film. Here the forest is the site of an image formation in two respects, it is a motif that appears in the film and serves as a performance location. In the context of this work, too, mushrooms appear as image-generating means in Kempe's work. It is, however, a different variety whose traces are visible in the form of spores (wild wood # 01, 2007/10). They spread out radially around a center that no longer exists, creating a kind of aura of light. In some pictures you can still see the lamellae based on the outlines formed by the spores. These traces are very fragile and settle on the surface like fine dust. The flight of spores lies over the photographs and obscures the view of the motif, at the same time a different picture emerges. Here, too, the photographic medium of photography and the drawing activity of the mushroom comment on each other.
A motif that keeps cropping up in Andreas Kempe's work is the table, sometimes as a silhouette (wild cube # 02, 2007/10) or as a photograph (Bildling # 22, 2011). It is a place of action and encounters. In 2001, Kempe staged a dinner party on November 9th, the anniversary of the Reich pogroms, on the Brühlsche Terrasse in Dresden. It is a kind of stage for an event that is thus brought within reach at a manageable height. Almost all of the artist's works are created by working at the table. The picture carrier lies in the horizontal. At this level, the fungus does its work, gradually sinking under the force of gravity. Andreas Kempe also draws on it. This can be seen from the course of the lines in his graphics. He achieves their uniformity by being able to approach the work surface from different sides. Some of the monotypes and etchings initially have no fixed orientation. In the horizontal there is no hierarchy of above and below. Only when the plot is complete and the work is finished is a decision made. The amorphous process, the even network of lines and the flowing puddles then becomes an image that can be viewed from a distance. Some of the photographs from the Bildling series (# 33, # 34, # 120 and # 131) show works of art in a kind of transitory position, after transport they were briefly placed on the floor and leaned against the wall on which they were later hung to find the final position.
Kempe is interested in such moments of transition, when the amorphous is recognized as a form and the action becomes a sign.
dr Holger Birkholz
Form and Decay
Andreas Kempe's Compositional Structures
Andreas Kempe is concerned with the amorphous, with hatching that runs riot over pictorial surfaces, compacting them, with the foliage thicket of forests or the leaking silhouettes that remain when mushrooms rot away. These structures are formless, because they have no defined margins. They blur. The graphical netting of lines or etching and monotype decreases in density at the edge of the image. The greenery of the trees becomes lighter at the margins. And the contours of the puddles, created by the rotting of mushrooms, vary. They have a dark silhouette and a brighter one, which surrounds them like an aura. The first type of silhouette seems to be clearly contoured, and it is only in closer observation that we discover that it erupts in small bulges, whereas the second type gently melts into a narrow, transitional zone.
Nevertheless, the amorphous does have a form that possesses its own significance, delineating it. It becomes a symbol of formlessness, while it simultaneously eludes a more precise definition. In this way, it stays in motion. The shapelessness is confronted with our urge to somehow grasp it, and so we describe it as “shapeless.” It is actually a paradoxical process. The comprehension of shapelessness seems like a kind of grasping of emptiness, because the liquid flows between our fingers.
In Kempe's work, however, the flow is stopped, the puddles are dried, and the etchings pressed. The movement is stilled. What remains is the trace. Each line of a print is the result of an operation; they mark the beginning and end of a motoric action. In them, we can see that there was an act through which they came into being. A hatched field documents an abundance of these activities. In their totality, they look homogeneous, but seen individually, they are singular. Together, they don't just fill the surface, they also document the time that was used to draw them. Kempe's etchings and monotypes remain in suspension; as the mesh becomes thicker, the meaning of each stroke is qualified. We can try to concentrate on the course of the individual line, to extract them from the field, but the layering, the intersecting, and the concentration makes this almost impossible. When this effort works at all, it is at the edges of the image. Each individual action is "sublated" by the homogeny, and this happens according to the eccentric double-structure of the concept; each one threatens to get lost and yet it remains precisely because it adds something to the existence of the whole. As individuals, each one is almost nothing - Kempe's etching series is called next to nothing (2014) - but as a cumulative effect, they fill surfaces and periods of time.
On the other side, the drawings and effects of mushrooms in Andreas Kempe's work operate in consciously composed spaces. The dimensions of the etching plates are set; carbon prints of photographs constitute the basis for the drawings and the leakage of mushrooms. The artist consciously follows the motif substratum in the process of drawing; if the hatching marks, which extend crisscross across the foliage, more or less compress and darken, they are also oriented toward photography's brightness values, gradually hiding them. The initial motif is transformed. In the phenomenon of drawn reenactment as bodily action, the singular choppiness of the forest structure, which is almost impossible to grasp, metamorphosizes into a graphic structure. In his artistic process, Kempe enters the forest in another way – the exploration with the pen steps complements his wandering through the thicket. The artist's reaction to the motif is comparable to the traces that the ink cap mushroom leaves behind as it slowly dissolves.
This mushroom (Coprinus) used to be utilized for the production of ink, hence its name. It is almost as if the liquid intentionally runs through the areas of the prints that are already colored. It has a nearly magical effect, when - for example - the dark, brown liquid fills the silhouette of the artist, which has taken his place on a stool in front of three pictures (Bildung #36, 2009/11). For that reason, the decay process seems to be less coincidental than intentional. The mushroom creates an image, a form that is concrete in its outline. This “activity” stands in relation to artistic creative processes. The photographs that Kempe uses as supports consist of art historical works among other images. The procedure is shown to be self-reflective on multiple levels.
The artist enters into a dialogue with the mushroom. The photo (Bildung #20 und #22, 2011) portrays the mushroom in a sober, empty space. It is only through reworking of the appearance of the ink trace that the original, open posture receives its counterpoint. In the place where there was nothing as the photograph was taken, a shape now emanates. The photographic reproduction and the puddles are both illustrations; on the one side, they represent the artist's body and on the other side, the mushroom, which structurally binds them together. And yet, the ink trace claims a higher degree of reality. In contrast to the abstracted black-and-white of the photograph, which also suggests a temporal distance, it possesses a three-dimensional, relief-like structure and, albeit reduced, color. In some places, slabs of material threaten to peel off; in others, the liquid has visibly soaked through the paper. In turn, the appearance of decay in the ink paintings relativizes art's eternal ambition for the survival of the work. Decomposition and rot do not only apply to the short lifespan of the mushroom but to all living creatures and their legacy.
Even if the unpredictably ink spot in the image only forms after the photograph, its position is nevertheless already planned. The free surface becomes an index for its emergence. The act of viewing, which is staged in the situation, becomes a mirror for us in front of the image. The spot is looked at from two temporal directions – from the past, by the artist who conceptually foresaw its appearance, and by us, who we gaze at the completed decay process. In these ways, the processes of production and reception are dynamically entwined with each other.
The temporal and spatial shuffling of layers is also apparent when Kempe presents one of his father's films on the place where it was created. In this work Bringing the Hawk to the Forest (2007), he stretches a screen between two trees and projects a Super-8 film with images of nature onto it. This situation is then filmed and becomes an independent video piece. In the twilight, we can still recognize the surroundings – the trunks, the leaves on the ground, and the branches, but it is already dark enough for the film. The forest is here a place of image formation in a double-sense. It is a motif that appears in the film and that serves as the location of the performance. Kempe's mushrooms also turn up in the context of this work as an image-producing medium, albeit another type whose traces become visible in the form of spoors (wild wood # 01, 2007/10). They spread out from a center in a radial pattern, which is no longer existent, and create a kind of aura of light. In some images, we can discern the fins through the outlines consisting of spores. These traces are very fragile, lying on the surface like a fine dust. The dispersing of the spoors coats the photographs and veils our view of the motif, thereby creating another image at the same time. And again, the photographic medium and the graphic activity of the mushroom mutually comment on each other.
One motif that appears in Andreas Kempe's work again and again is the table - sometimes as a silhouette (wild cube # 02, 2007/10) or in photographs (Bildling #22, 2011). It is a place of actions and encounters. In 2001, Kempe staged a dinner party on November 9th, the anniversary of Kristallnacht, on the Brühlsche Terrasse in Dresden. It served as a kind of stage for an occurrence that takes place in a manageable height and within grasping distance. Almost all of the artist's works are created by working at a table. In the process, the image support lies horizontally. On this surface the mushroom does its work, since in following gravity, it gradually sinks into the support. This is also where Andreas Kempe draws, a fact that we can see in the course of the lines in his graphic works. He achieves their homogeneity by approaching them from different sides of the working surface. Some of the monotypes and etchings do not initially have a set orientation. Positioned horizontally, there is no hierarchy from top to bottom. It is only when the action is completed and the work is finished that a decision about orientation is made. From the amorphous process – the consistent network of lines and the dissolving puddles – emerges a picture that we can look at with some distance. Some of the photographs in the Bildling series (#33, #34, #120, and #131) present artworks in a kind of transitional position; Following their transportation, they will shortly be put on the ground and leaned against the wall, where they will later hang in their ultimate destination. Kempe is interested in these moments of transition, when amorphousness is recognized as form and action becomes a sign.
dr Holger Birkholz // Translation Jessica Buskirk