Claire Abendreh - Lesen in Bildern

Schlagwort: Arte

Wetter für Füchse

Jochen Zellmann 26.2.80 Pastell und Bleistift auf Papier

Ein kleines Hochformat, zurückgenommen in den Mitteln und doch von eigentümlicher Spannung. Der warme Ocker des Papiers trägt das Bild, nicht als neutraler Grund, sondern als Farbe, die mitspricht.

Ein weißer Rahmen aus Wachspastell fasst die Fläche, ohne sie einzusperren – die Striche sind ungleichmäßig, atmen, und sind doch gesetzt mittels feiner Bleistiftumrandung in einer Blockform: Ist es eine Tür oder ein Fenster, durch das man blickt? Oder ein Thron? Die untere Hälfte ist durch eine gestrichelte Bleistiftlinie zart aufgeteilt und eröffnet einen dreidimensionalen Raum, der an mittelalterliche Raumvorstellungen erinnert oder an solche aus fernen Kulturen – eine Tiefe, die das kleine Format kaum fassen zu können scheint und es doch fasst.

Oben ein blassblaugrüner Fleck, wie eine Wetterkarte, wie ein Himmelsfetzen; darunter Bleistiftlinien, die an Schrift erinnern, ohne lesbar zu sein – Geste statt Botschaft. Drei fuchsrote Striche ziehen sich von oben nach unten durch die Bildfläche, jeder anders: der obere scharf und länglich, fast schneidend; der zweite kürzer, schwerer; der dritte knapper noch, wie ein Nachklang. Zwischen ihnen: Stille, Papier, Luft. Streift der Fuchs über ein Feld?

Unten rechts Datum und Signatur – 26.2.80, Zellmann –, darunter der Titel in spitzen Klammern: Wetter für Füchse. Ein Titel, der mehr verspricht, als er erklärt. Fuchswetter – das ist kein Begriff aus dem Wetterbuch, sondern einer aus dem Gespür: rau, unberechenbar, für Feinsinnige gemacht.

Tsbreh

Bernhard Beyer, Tempera auf Papier, 69x55cm, 10/25.

Es könnte ein Kürbis sein, flächenfüllend dargestellt. Oder ein Klischee von Malerei – vielleicht aus einem Volkshochschulkurs, auf den ersten Blick. Oder gar das Psychogramm der Idee von Malerei selbst?

Hier ist eine grundsätzlich naive Erarbeitung des Formats sichtbar: die Fläche, befüllt mit Pinselstrichen, wie sie jedem Menschen im Blut liegen. Beim Bemalen eines weißen Blattes Papier. Pinselstriche, frei auf der Fläche, ohne Deutung, ohne Bedeutung. Zuerst in freier Entfaltung, raumbildend, das Format abtastend, bis an seine Grenzen gehend. Doch dort ist nur der Rand des Formats.

Im nächsten Moment beginnt das Assoziieren: Ist das eine Höhle? Oder bloß ein Kürbis? Nein, denn oben — dieser Bürzel — könnte der abgekappte Stiel sein, doch die Pinselstriche, die sich erstaunlicherweise rechts und links unten wenden, gehen plötzlich Wege, die kein Kürbis kennt. Die Fantasie bricht ab. Der Pinselstrich bleibt Pinselstrich, das Bild wird wieder zum gemalten Werk, zur aufgetragenen Farbe, zur blanken Illusion.

Und nun? Die Reise darf von vorn beginnen, vielleicht morgen oder übermorgen.

Der unaussprechliche Titel folgt demselben Pfad: vertraut und fremd zugleich. Plötzlich offenbart sich seine Bedeutung — von hinten gelesen: Herbst. Die Entzauberung ist perfekt, denkt der Betrachtende. Doch im nächsten Augenblick ist alles wieder voll von Geheimnis, als wäre das Erklärende nie da gewesen. Die Malerei bleibt undeutbar, fremd, unvertraut.

Und dann, für einen kurzen Moment scheint alles klar — denn wie bei einem Sprung in der Schallplatte, der den Fluss der Musik zerreißt, drängen sich neue Bilder auf: Da eine Pflanze an langem Stängel? Dort eine zweite, doch ihr Stiel knickt ab. Und plötzlich wieder die Höhle.
An ihrer Wand ein Schattenriss – von was? Ein Abbild, das an Platons Gleichnis erinnert? Oder nur die Spur eines Pinselstrichs, der sich weigert, Bedeutung anzunehmen?

In our midst

In our midst.
Among us.
A space emerges before you notice it.
A quiet in-between that you slip into, like a conversation that began long ago.

Lines stretch across the surface, encounter each other, diverge, become entangled. Colors probe, overlap, linger. Nothing stands alone. Everything touches something else.

Here, a dark bundle, like a thought that is condensing.
There, a bright spot, almost incidental—and yet persistent.
Petrol next to umber. Red leaning against ochre.
A green that suddenly steps forward, as if it wants to be heard.

You look—and only later realize that you have long since entered.
That your gaze has become part of the web.

Am I still outside?
Or already among them, among us?

Behind the overlaps, light zones open up, breathing expanses. A blue that promises depth. For a moment, you lose yourself. And find your way back: to the dots, the splashes, the traces of movement. To the restlessness that remains.

Like voices in a room: different, contradictory, simultaneous.
No two elements are alike. And yet something holds them together.
Closeness. Tension. Attention.

Everything remains in flux.
Breaks off.
Begins anew.
Crosses paths.
Loses itself.
Finds itself again.

In our midst— that is not a place.
It is a state.

And within it: life.

better day

Bernhard Beyer – better day, 2023
Tempera auf Papier, 110 × 75 cm

Is today really better, or is it just an illusion? Better Day quietly carries this question within, like a hesitant promise yet to be spoken aloud.

Scratched, tentative brushstrokes in soft pastel tones stretch across the canvas. Ochre, blue, pink, and broken shades of yellow and gray overlap without dissolving. A subtle hint of gray dampens the brightness of the colors, lending the work a quiet melancholy. Yet, even in this restraint, something delicate and hopeful remains, as if the painting has not yet lost its courage.

Up close, the colors reveal themselves to be pure pigments that vary in intensity and are sometimes hastily applied. They touch and overlap at the edges yet remain independent. The gaze wanders, following one color, losing it, and finding another. Some areas seem almost casual, as if applied quickly and decisively, perhaps under time pressure. It’s as if the artist had to capture something before it disappeared.

From a distance, the image begins to open up. Abstraction tips over into memory. Dark drops appear, scattered across the surface like signs or eyes. Initially enigmatic, they eventually become orderly. They do not adhere to a single perspective but rather traverse all planes—front, back, and in between. They anchor the space while simultaneously dissolving it.

Colors rise upward, defying gravity. The image must have been rotated at least once. The painting has lost its orientation—or has deliberately abandoned it. In some areas, the brushstrokes become denser, more compact, and intense—almost urgent. Like a rumor that grows louder. Like a thought that can no longer be suppressed.

Better Day does not speak of certainty. It speaks of searching, layering, hesitation, and moving on. It speaks of the space between yesterday and tomorrow. Those who engage with the painting will find no clear answers, only a depth that sustains. Perhaps this is precisely where the hope for a better day lies.

Reflexions

Colin oder die innere Farbe

This contemporary painting is not intended to represent external reality. Rather, it is an invitation to perceive the appearance of Colin (the personification of color)—those fleeting spots, streaks, and afterimages that lie on the eyelid—after being dazzled by looking suddenly into the light and closing your eyes. These colors cannot be named or objectively represented; they are an inner color. The painting invites you to recognize how vision turns inward.

The composition appears as a vibrant field of overlapping traces. Warm ochre, yellow, and red tones meet cool blue and gray layers. Drops, splashes, and hasty gestures seem not to have been placed but to have occurred — just as inner color appearances cannot be controlled. These spots are not signs, but remnants of seeing—echoes of light on the retina.

The title, „Colin or the Inner Color,“ opens up a poetic space. Colin can be interpreted as a name, a character, a bird, or something alive—or as a sound that appears and disappears. The longer you look at the color fields, the more fantastical parrots with winding tail feathers or other animals begin to emerge. They are not really there and yet they are not arbitrary. The image allows for freedom in perception: each viewer sees something different.

This is precisely where the inner core lies. What becomes visible is the color each person perceives differently, simply due to the unique nature of their retinas, pupils, and irises, as well as their vision history. No two people ever see the same thing, even if they can discuss it. From an early age, we agree on names — „blue,“ „yellow,“ „red“ — without ever checking exactly which colors and structures are meant.

This image makes this paradox tangible: communication about color is possible. We see together, but never the same thing.

This is precisely where the freedom and indissoluble mystery of vision lie.

„Colin or the Inner Color“ does not show us what we see; rather, it shows us that seeing is an inner, deeply personal process — a place between light and memory, between the eye and imagination.

What we now see is not just the image.

It is our inner color.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version).

Überall

The painting ‚Überall‘ by the artist Bernhard Beyer from 2023 is painted on an HDF plate measuring 45×25″ with eggtempera. The simple frame with shadow joint was made of multiplex especially for the image. The materiality of the eggtempera emphasizes the flatness of the painting.

Bernhard Beyer’s painting goes back to the informal and gives the impression of abstraction at first glance, but can also be discovered as semi-abstract, since the representation is not completely realistic, but with a longer and more closer viewing, a reference to the real world is found or even suddenly sets in.

The painting style is determined by hand-sized color spots distributed on the image surface in different possibilities of color application. The artist applies various techniques such as opaque, stained, dry or wet, open, closed and with a free gesture. The colors of these spots stand on their own and represent their own material and optical quality and quantity. There is no fusion with each other, but the appearance changes due to the superposition of the spots, which can give the impression of a color gradient. At the edges, individual brush strokes seemingly involuntarily flash and a dynamic game begins.

The color spectrum ranges from deep black to other colors to the unpainted white image background without any application of eggtempera. The three basic colors red, blue and yellow dominate. Yellow shines pure, while red and blue occur in pastel-like tones such as rosé and tinted ultramarine up to light azure as well as in mixtures with purple or violet. In between are broken colors such as cream, earth and skin tones. The use of all these colors creates the shocking realization that the picture has gone through 40,000 years of human history and has overcome many challenges. It becomes clear that this way was not easy. This gives the work a natural, rough beauty that fascinates and captivates.

Color stains and overpaints create a strong color tension and a large imaginary space on the surface.

A characteristic feature of the artist is the curved neck-back line, which often appears at the top of the picture, including in this work, but smaller and like a quote from itself. Behind this is a connection between cave painting, such as in Lascaux, and its very own humor. This parietal art shapes the painting style and gives the picture a deep, archaic quality.

This is where the special feature of the picture begins: It reflects the soul of the viewer, as it has not been possible before.

The self-made color of eggtempera with pigments supports this effect, as the shades change in the course of daylight. The bright azure blue of the morning turns into a dark green until the evening, the bright yellow of the day fades into the evening, and so it goes through the day with all colors. This picture experience is of a special kind.

The motives suddenly reproduce. A collection of clearly protruding brush strokes can represent both the contour of a mountain in the distance and a house in the middle image plane and much more. What the eye discovers, be they figures, animals or plants, ultimately also reflects the psyche of the viewer. The image becomes a psychoanalysis for worldly viewers and art lovers who experience self-knowledge through looking here.

The image view becomes an intensive exercise.

The title that cannot be translated into English is ‚Überall‘, which initially means a place that can be anywhere, but also means that all places, this ‚Überall‘, are possible in the picture. In addition, it also includes the universe.

A fascinating thought, an exciting adventure.

In the title, which is deliberately chosen in the German language, there is also the variety of meanings. The title ‚Überall‘ points to the multidimensionality of the work and invites you to an adventure of self-knowledge and worldview.

A successful work.

Bildbeschreibungen von Gegenwartskunst

Hier werden Werke der Malerei beschrieben. Die Texte beruhen auf direkten Begegnungen mit dem – teils abstrakten – Bild, aufmerksam, empathisch und persönlich. Keine endgültigen Interpretationen, sondern vorläufige Beschreibungen.

Der Fokus liegt auf einzelnen Werken, künstlerischen Positionen und Fragen der Wahrnehmung – zwischen Gegenwart und Geschichte.

Paintingdescriptions of contemporary artworks …and art-historical works. Reflections on seeing and thinking about images. Texts based on direct encounters with the image—attentive, empathetic, and entirely personal. These are not definitive interpretations, but open reflections: tentative, descriptive, interpretive.

The focus is on individual works, artistic positions, and questions of perception—between the present and history.

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