Illusory Architecture (E)
for Aesthetica Magazine, Issue 101
2021
related works
Erbgericht
das Eck
Hive
Architekton
Andrea Grützner’s (b. 1984) compositions deal with the emotional and visual perception of spaces. These images seek both familiar and disconnected subject matters, and ask questions about the memory of places and our orientation of designed interiors. Grützner finds and creates photographs that oscillate between image-making and painting, exploring ideas of documentary, surrealism, abstraction and visual irritation. Eclectic interiors draw links to retro computer games and traditional guest houses from the former German Democractic Republic, casting a diverse history of human behaviour against an intriguing interplay of colour and form. Bold lines and shadows ruminate in these compelling labyrinthine images, transforming the everyday and altering interior landscapes with gels, flash lights and motif-mapping. Grützner won the 2017 ING Unseen Talent Award, with the Hive series, developing work alongside Nadav Kander, and has exhibited with Foam Amsterdam, Photo London and Paris Photo, amongst many other fairs and galleries.
A: The term “emotional architecture,” was attributed to Mexican architect Luis Barragán (1902-1988) and sculptor-painter Mathias Goéritz (1915-1990), who, together, published a manifesto in search of spiritually uplifting buildings that subverted the minimal, “sterility” of modernism. The document was built on the premise that spaces engender a tangible psychological response in individuals. Though your photographs dwell within architectural structures, how do you feel that they are, inherently, “anti-architectural” or resist this definition?AG: I often depict space in a fragmentary way, focusing on details and certain elements instead of showing the ideal (descriptive) perspective of a building or room to give a desired spatial idea. My gaze cuts through the space – that’s where the description of “anti-architectural” comes from. “Emotive” could also be added to the definition of my practice, as, ultimately, I’m translating my subjective perception and sensation of the space onto the production of images.
A:
Houses and interior domestic spaces have provided a creative
wellspring for artists over the years, with memories embedded in
rooms and histories told through the walls. What might we find in the
“nooks” and “crannies” of your images, in the histories or
stories exist there? How important is it that these stories remain
invisible, with the structures devoid of their
inhabitants?
AG: Individual
stories, memories and emotions are not important for understanding my
work or its effects on the viewer. The images speak more about my
personal encounter with that specific space, which seems to be full
of pro- jections and secrets. I’m trying to avoid the more obvious
details of houses or structures, as they would immediately spark a
more stereotypical imagination and narrative. It is more about slowly
discovering familiar elements within the abstract image construction,
which might recall own memories of the viewer. My work is,
essentially, quite open-ended.
A:
Your images share many similar colour palettes of Barragán, with
blush pinks, bold oranges and luminous yellows
taking centre stage, amongst a variety of patterns, shapes, slats and
oblongs. What interests you about the colour palettes of interior
structures?
AG: Colour
is intriguing, it can be challenging and seducing, abstract and so
real. It triggers certain memories. The original interior of
the Erbgericht has
nostalgic palettes of cream-brownish hues and elements in pastel
tones. The vivid glowing shadows stems from experimentation with
colourful gels in front of flashlights. So I’m adding my own colour
palette to the building. My colours are kind of coexisting with(in)
the house. For me, they work like a placeholder for memories and
emotions from all people who have been attached to, or visited, that
building. The luminous shades are pulling the beholder into the
image-space and leave them to their own imagination and
interpretation. In general, I try to exaggerate artificial
characters, playfulness and an overarching sense of eeriness. This is
also the case in Hive,
where I used the poppy bold colours of the given educational design.
A:
There’s also an MC Escher-like quality to your compositions.
Staircases disappear into hovering cabinets and reflections merge
spaces into a kind of labyrinth. Why is removal, distortion or
complication important?
AG: I
often strive for tilting moments and reversing perspectives. It’s a
visual game with the perception of space, time and surface structures
– an optical charade. I regularly ask myself: how can I make the
familiar and obvious strange, and vice versa, the strange curiously
familiar? All these processes are playfully challenging our looking
habits and slowing down the way of deciphering. They are also
speaking, in a general sense, about another possible reading of
systems.
A:
In Erbgericht, you
utilise a bright flash to achieve a sense of collage and
transformation – creating pro- nounced lines, shadows and
artificial planes, with stark contrasts playing out across the
compositions. Can you expand on the technical aspect of your
work?
AG:
I set up flashlights, scattered throughout spaces. These are all
connected up and fired in the same moment. I then scan the negatives
and just do smaller adjustments in brightness and colour hues. To set
up the lighting can take between four and eight hours, depending on
the number of variations that I’m doing. Additionally, around one
to three days go into pre-studies and light experiments for each
motif. My sketchbook is essential here. Sometimes, though, images
won’t work at the end, and the process starts all over again.
A:
You often respond intuitively to locations. The Hive series,
for example, draws from retro computer games, shot in Melbourne’s
RMIT University, filled with angular metals and maze-like spaces. In
what capacity are you exaggerating a sense of “play” or
development in the space – where individuals are required to
“advance” from one level to the next, much like in
education?
AG: The
contemporary infrastructure at RMIT is already built towards being
photographed – to be shared via social media platforms. It is
strongly influenced by science fiction films, pop culture and “fun
houses.” For me, these maze-like rooms work as a metaphor for
orientation, “gamification” and alienation in our modern society
– themes that proliferate and only continue to grow. I ask: how can
we deal with the seduction and ambiguity of such spaces, which
already have ideas of a global neoliberal society – like
flexibility, mobility, mixing work and leisure time, networking –
build into them? My attempt is to amplify the design through a roster
of digital collage techniques, also to point towards the blending of
virtuality and reality in these performative environments.
A:
The das
ECK series (The
Corner) considers
the framework of urban spaces, and the graphic nature of our en-
vironments today. To what extent was this series a depar- ture –
with less collage or double exposure?
AG:
I was invited to Koblenz as a city photographer in 2015/2016, shortly
after publishing my first 16 images of Erbgericht.
For me, it was important to not copy-paste my style with the
colourful lighting, but rather find a related way of seeing space and
translating it into an image of some- thing new entirely. The mundane
post-war architecture is very present in the city, so I decided to
mainly focus on its elements, still with a fragmentary, surreal and
graphic touch.
A:
Works from the ongoing Erbgericht series
are currently on show at Robert Morat Galerie, Berlin, a project
which plays on the loose translation of inheritance. How does the
title relate to the images, and where they were shot?
AG: My
work Erbgericht (or
“Guest house”) stems from a devotion to a traditional country inn
located in a former GDR village, where I’m originally from. As an
important cultural centre for the rural community, the Erbgericht
managed to survive five political systems (the German Empire, the
Weimar Republic, the Nazi era, the Communist era, and today’s
reunified Germany.) The cultural history goes back to medieval ages,
when these houses were the seat of the local judge, who also often
got the rights to brew and slaughter. This position was passed on to
the next generation. Even in Ger-many, almost nobody knows the
etymology, but the words “Erb-” and “Gericht” are so
familiar. It’s just their combination which makes it strange and
unfamiliar. This is the reason why I kept the name of the building
for my work. The Erbgericht is an intriguing collage of historical
layers – patterns, materials, furniture, and my family still
celebrates important events in its rooms. Yet, many memories of the
village and its inhabitants, including those of my family, seem
inaccessible to me. It’s a constant shift between being familiar
and unfamiliar, with a lot of secrets. My photographs work like a
translation of my relationship to my former homeland.
A:
How do you choose your locations?
AG: Part
of my motivation is certainly a preoccupation with my origins: an
early childhood socialisation in the GDR and our move to the west
after the fall of the Wall with still close contact to our relatives
near Dresden. So, the Erbgericht is still a favourite place to work.
I am currently also obsessed with a building block set for kids from
GDR times, a project I’ve started working with a Bauhaus residency.
I’m still trying to figure out my fascination with “built”
things. Spaces and atmospheres can attract and repel me – and
definitely trigger me. It’s incredible what influence architecture
can have on people and what social roles it imbibes. Ideologies and
power structures are conveyed through it, and spatial policies are
contested with it. Architecture plays a fundamental role in cultural
memory and the function of society in space.
A:
What else do you have planned for 2021?
AG: Diving
into the pictorial adventures I’ve sketched above.
Interview online at Aesteticamagazine
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