Longing for Kairos*
Eine Auseinandersetzung in Texten, Bildern und Collagen
Wo gehöre ich hin, wo kann ich ausatmen, wo entspannt sich mein Geist?
Wann und wo entsteht das Gefühl, dass Alles passt?
Warum verstehe ich oft eine Situation erst im Nachhinein, sehe ich meine Chancen dann wenn sie schon längst verstrichen sind?
Wann sind wir im Fluss, in unserem Leben angekommen und wann rennen wir hinter etwas her was wir selber nicht wirklich verstehen?
Die Sehnsucht noch Kairos*, noch dem Erkennen derGelegenheit die es zu ergreifen gibt, noch dem Moment wo Alles passt, noch dem Sein in der Zeit. Die Suche noch dem"jetzt ist es gut", die Suche noch dem nicht mehr suchen müssen .. die Suche noch Ankommen und (oder) Sein .
Ist das was ich in meiner Kunst schaffe in einem grässeren weiteren Kontext zu sehen und wenn ja, wie kann ich diesen erkennen? Verpasste Chancen, unüberbrückbare Diskrepanz zwischen Selbst- und Fremdwahrnehmung und falsche Einschätzung der eigenen (kunstbezogenen) Wünsche sind Thema dieser Arbeit.
*Kairos (griechisch Kcup6c:;) isl ein religiös-philosophischer Begriff für den günstigen Zeilpunkt einer Entscheidung, dessen ungenutztes Verstreichen nochteilig sein kann.(Quelle:Wikipedia)
Bologna 2011
my first art fair. the gallery sold my two art works it was showing within the two first days. I was surprised, happy, excited. Finally, I thought, finally i am where i belong. Now you will be successful my gallerist told me.
Walking around Bologna I had spotted a beautiful black woollen poncho in a shop. I could see myself in it, it would be the new and better me, the successful me, the artist with a real career. My girlfriend advised me against it, reasonably so, I was broke and the money from the sale of the art work would probably take weeks if not months to make it to my bank account. Reluctantly I gave up on the beautiful black poncho.
I never sold two art works on a fair anymore, and the career I was dreaming of never materialised.
Some days I am still convinced that all would have been different had i had the confidence to buy this beautiful piece of clothing, the symbol of my success.
Paris 2014
Everything had seemed perfect. My project about my mother, the funding, and then the opportunity to stay at the Cité des Arts in Paris for three months. I should have been a “finally!” moment, an opportunity at the right place at the right moment. The possibility to have influential support, to show my work with all the weight of a “Cité des Arts” stipend behind me … Instead I froze. All my fears, anxieties, insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance. I rationalised my decision to quit the project I was working on and return, like a coward, to my old way of working. Not surprisingly with the same results. Anachronistic work and the self-loathing that came with it made my stay in Paris the opposite of the much hoped for Kairos ….
La Gomera, March 2018
WhatsApp message from my brother. My father is in hospital. Not to worry.
Suddenly the “not to worry” turns into an emergency. I have to go there.
And my entire complicated relationship to my family and my “home country” surfaces in all its complexity. It is easy to leave a place when one knows one can always return. What happens when the home we leave becomes a foreign place without a welcoming home we can go to whenever we wish to?
I always wanted to leave Luxembourg, already as a kid I felt like a stranger, I couldn`t relate to the people around me and all I wanted was to be somewhere else. I was a constant day-dreamer, constructing my own realities because I couldn't bear to be where I was. The village I grew up in never felt like home and I never felt any urge to go visit there after my father moved away to Luxembourg city in 1994. I did miss the house I grew up in, and the garden, and the woods. But never the people and their narrow mindedness and petty cruelties. .
But whenever I happen to be in Luxembourg and on the rare occasions I venture out of the city and catch a whiff of the countryside, something in me shifts and I am reminded of the girl I was, the dreams I had and my connection to this particular place on earth.  When are you coming back?, a question I am hearing less and less as the years of my being-away pile up, but still my answer of “I am not” is never fully believed. And sometimes I do wonder how convincing I still sound.
Eichenbrandt, Brandenburg, 2008
the comfort of nature
sitting in a field close to the house my then-husband and I were renovating, my phone was constantly ringing with pseudo urgent business, I was unsure about the choices I had made and I knew I was in a relationship that wasn't working. I switched off my phone and sat down. Suddenly my hearing changed, the buzzing of my brain subsided and the outside world managed to get through to me, not the frantic attention seeking noise of human busyness but the sounds of the world underneath, the one that sustains us, the one we are part of … and a sudden calm flooded me. the comfort of nature, those were the words that came to me. and I remembered how, as a teenager, I had gone for long walks through fields and forest whenever everything got too much again, when school, family friends caused me distress and came to close. Every time it felt good to re-connect to something that felt more like home then any built structure I ever lived in.
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