And wiza woiza


opening september 15th 2016


A series as an achievement, a promise

A generous offer to stick


pulling the organs to the outside

like an unclean, impure ornament

and not only those who defy symmetry, like the heart and the intestinals

also the lungs

you defy easy symmetry yourself


When Jane Bowles first novel Two Serious Ladies was publis-

hed, the New York Times wrote, trying to unravel the story line would equal risking your own mental health. Playwright Tennessee Williams on the other hand was raving about a novel of incompa- rable high quality and called Bowles the greatest author of our time writing in English in his memoirs. Newly translated into german the novel and her short stories are now published under the title „Einfa- che Freuden“ (referring to a story from 1966).


The works are bringing something to the forefront, forms as simple and abstract as the first categories upon which we build our whole idea of knowledge of the world, and they let something sink in, disappear, allowing to lead a secret other life on the other side of this glossy black surface that will never die because it can always be reactivated by heat.

Maybe behind the reflective and impervious surface we can think it differently. Different fixations, different daddies, different condi- tions of subjectivity, different meanings of naivete, stupider ones.


I might have exchanged one fetish for another.

I mean in the end it is about currency, right? Sex, money, knowled- ge, whatever.


Beginning to trace back the genealogies and implications through the thick layer of tar, the history of ornament, its relation to rococo roncailles on one hand and other works of art that digged deep into the heart of fetishising what you want (to become), and how to build a structure that can be constructed anew in case of relapse. You might opt for simple and recognizable forms for that reason as well.


The works may adress issues of gender specific imaginery and what is familiar looking out of the kitchen of your apartment in the alley. I saw what she saw, what slowly seeped into her mind through her lids and then into the frontal cortex.

It is a post-industrial landscape, you look from a balcony onto an almost waste land. Railway tracks, a brick building in the back, parking lot in front, a little shiny lake out of brackish water, one of these urban gardens cultivating all kinds of vegetables. People live there in the tunnels under the tracks, they came a couple of months ago, four of them, three men and a woman. By the end of the summer her belly is bulging. It comes like shock although you had half-consciously anticipated it all along.



Inka Meißner

photography by Tobias Willmann