Harald Fricke

  • Ricarda Roggan

    Ricarda Roggan is decidedly different from the current crop of young artists from Leipzig, who favor a decoratively painted amalgamation of Photoshop realism and sampled figures. Roggan’s photographs, which were included in last year’s Berlin Biennial, are characterized by a brittle reductionism close to the documentary style of the ’70s. She studied at Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig with Timm Rautert, whose photographic reportage of factories beginning in the ’60s greatly influenced the way that daily life was presented artistically in West Germany.

    Born in Dresden in 1972, Roggan

  • Lucas Lenglet

    In a short period of time, Dutch artist Lucas Lenglet has created a unique and memorable trademark out of some familiar references: The geometric construction of the tank traps he uses in his installations appears to refer to Sol LeWitt’s metal grid structures. In the tradition of Dan Graham, Lenglet makes particular reference to architecture. The spaces he builds—their shelving systems, their seating arrangements, and the added photographs of buildings—are always conceived as an extension of what Lenglet calls his “archaeology of action.”

    This exhibition brings together several ensembles of

  • Nevin Aladag

    In her videos and photographs, Nevin Aladag works in a poetic documentary style where nothing is “told” but a great deal is “shown.” This clearly defined artistic concept matches its subject matter: Aladag, born in 1972 in Van in eastern Turkey and now living in Berlin, often focuses on foreignness and self-determination as they are experienced by young people of Turkish origin in Germany today. Demarcation and amalgamation, the search for cultural roots and social connection: Aladag is trying to create individual meaning within the larger context of the production of identity. She is interested

  • Chiharu Shiota

    Chiharu Shiota, born in Osaka in 1972, settled in Germany in 1996, initially to study with Marina Abramović; she has lived in Berlin since 1997. Her path of development is paradigmatic for its time: Her studio rooms in Mitte were in a building formerly occupied by squatters; later she participated in exhibitions that focused on her Japanese heritage, underscoring Berlin’s new multiculturalism and openness in its dealings with foreigners. Shiota soon found herself growing uneasy about this reference to alterity, though. “Often, when there’s a show here, people who come to look think, ‘Ah, a

  • Fernando Bryce

    Fernando Bryce is driven by an archaeological interest. The artist, who was born in Lima, Peru, in 1965 and has lived in Berlin since the late ’80s, has amassed an archive of drawing series—some comprising nearly five hundred pieces, all on standard-format paper—that include among their subjects individual historical figures as well as complex phenomena such as the Spanish Civil War, the Cuban revolution, and general political developments in South America after World War II. In them, Bryce pursues the strategy Walter Benjamin ascribed to the chronicler in his “Theses on the Philosophy of

  • “Project Migration”

    Today’s European Union is at once ambitious and reticent, incorporating former Eastern Bloc countries while fortifying itself against African and Asian immigration. Launched in 2002, “Project Migration” focuses on corresponding cultural change. Following a film and lecture program, this fall will see the opening of a group show curated by Kunstverein director Rhomberg and von Osten, a professor at Zürich’s Hochschule für Gestaltung und Kunst. They’ve chosen seventy artists, including Kutlug Ataman and Ann-Sofie Sidén, who confront the economic,

  • Stefan Hirsig

    Stefan Hirsig’s collages are the persistence of painting through different means. In his earlier paintings and murals, the Berlin artist, born in 1966, had already assimilated the Pop aesthetic: Sports-car chassis and electronic gadgets or rumpled jeans and hands with painted fingernails were combined with citations from art of the last forty years—a few streaks of color à la Morris Louis here, cool graphics reminiscent of James Rosenquist there, all delicately layered. In Hirsig’s new work, this play of cultural codes is further intensified. At the center of the eighteen collages shown here

  • Ernesto Neto

    Right before his exhibition at Max Hetzler, the Brazilian sculptor Ernesto Neto was suddenly inspired to add two photographs to his three floor sculptures. He took the film with him to Berlin, reworked its motifs on a computer there, and sent the collages thus created to a local firm that produced Cibachrome prints for him. The result is a kaleidoscopic close-up of gray and ocher patterned paving blocks in Rio de Janeiro whose individual, hand-hewn stones seem to move in waves. The titles that Neto chose for these impressions of the Brazilian city are as elusive as they are precise: The information

  • Marc Brandenburg

    Since the mid-’90s, Marc Brandenburg has worked toward an iconography that, originating in a repertoire of personal motifs, has grown to encompass politics and public space. His small-scale drawings start from snapshots or occasionally postcard or magazine images, sometimes distorted on the computer before being sketched freehand. But the original compositions disappear into the material of the drawing. In the place of clear contour comes a soft line that levels the difference between figure and space. The presentation here multiplied this strategy in which the fixed, momentary exposure is

  • Marko Lehanka

    Although Marko Lehanka considers himself a sculptor, many of his early works were computer based, and in the early ’90s he participated in exhibitions with a new-media focus. Yet you’d never suspect such beginnings from his exhibition “Schöne Gruß vom Country-Boy” (Best Regards from Country Boy): Lehanka’s scenario resembled a garage cram-packed with carved wooden objects, reliefs made of sawed-off surfboards, a few canvases done in the style of thrift-shop paintings, and even a sculpture of an Italian wine god and a standing grill. There was hardly a trace of technology; instead, an expressive

  • Stefan Thiel

    The term excess is a fitting one for the artistic praxis of Stefan Thiel. But this excess is also always expressed paradoxically—as a state that can hardly be communicated, let alone attained by an observer. For instance, Thiel, born in 1965, once translated hard-core pornographic stories into Braille and sealed them under glass, so that the surface of the paper was visible but its contents inaccessible, even to the blind. All debauchery remained hidden in the abstract scoring on its surface. Thiel subsequently used this embossing method to render the Marquis de Sade’s 120 Days of Sodom in

  • Peter Robinson

    Born in New Zealand a descendant of the Maori, Peter Robinson has been living in Germany for several years now. His work has been represented at the Johannesburg (1997) and Venice (2001) biennials and more recently in exhibitions like Media_City Seoul and the 8th Baltic Triennial of International Art in Vilnius, both last year. Undoubtedly, Robinson fits the profile of the artist as global player; he is a “migrateur” in the emphatic sense in which curator Hans-Ulrich Obrist used the term at the end of the ’90s. As might be expected, Robinson has been enormously interested in examining the new

  • Sanja Iveković

    The biography of Croatian artist Sanja Iveković, who was born in 1949, is characterized by enormous leaps. The Balkan wars turned her work on feminist themes into a work of mourning: At Documenta 11, one could see the installation Searching for my mother’s number, 2002–, in which the life of her mother, Nera Safarić, was told through slides and archival materials, becoming an image of resistance against the Nazi occupation (for which Safarić was deported to Auschwitz in 1942) and a symbol of the collective amnesia that has prevailed since Tito’s time.

    In Iveković’s early videos, photographs, and

  • Peter Geschwind / Gunilla Klingberg

    It is a stock complaint that the aesthetic of MTV videos, with their quick cuts and random narrative jumps, may be robbing viewers of the last shreds of their attention span. While this adolescent-targeted format seems like eye torture to some, others find the techniques of pop-music videos instructive. Swedish artist Peter Geschwind, born in 1966, edited his one-minute video loop Sound Cut, 2002, to the beat of a Dead Kennedys song. He analyzed the angry, inflammatory punk rhythm, the shape of the melody, and the various articulations of the song (verse, refrain, bridge, solo) and used these

  • Frequenzen [HZ]

    Many have observed a change in the Schirn Kunsthalle's image since Max Hollein was named director: Out with the window onto the past, in with the preoccupations of the moment. But that new image isn't quite accurate; connections between past and present remain a central concern. Running parallel to “Frequenzen [Hz]” (Frequencies), an exhibition on the relation of sound, space, and architecture curated by Jesper N. Jorgensen, there was a retrospective of the paintings of composer Arnold Schönberg. It is not only with Schönberg that sound and vision belong together. Here, even the entry area was

  • Gerwald Rockenschaub

    Any artist wishing to thematize the play between forces of culture and capital would be well advised to seek contact with the real economy. Otherwise, an analysis or critique of this relationship would be rather a bloodless proposition. What happens, though, when an artist participates directly in the creation of market value and enters into the exchange of commodities through his or her own works? Then there is very quickly talk of decoration—it's just a short step from the store windows Andy Warhol designed in New York to the kind of art that plays right into the business strategies of today's

  • “4FREE”

    The subtitle of “4FREE” holds nothing back: It promises “art-politics-science & aesthetic survival strategies,” which is unusually programmatic for Berlin. The exhibition was conceived as a laboratory that would not just exhibit finished artwork but investigate the processes that make up artistic engagement. To do so, this independent art institution, led by Waling Boers, has made use of its home base and three other spaces to present the works and projects of twenty-four artists, architects, and groups. Following the second Berlin Biennale, it succeeded in presenting an overview exhibition that

  • Via Lewandowsky

    Berlin's Mitte has lost much of its attraction for the art market. Too much tourism, too many public events, and too little profit have prompted a whole string of galleries to relocate, the latest of these being Arndt & Partner. However, the gallery's reopening exhibition of Via Lewandowsky intentionally missed the mark on reorganization: “Schiefer laufen” (“Going worse”; all works 2001) was a critical and ironic commentary on the increasing professionalization of art in Berlin.

    Because the 3,700-square-foot expanse of the gallery's new rooms reminded him of a Kunstverein, Lewandowsky created an

  • “Arbeit Essen Angst”

    More and more, art addresses the human and economic conditions of society. Since the G8 summit in Genoa, there have been efforts to formulate a viable basis for critiquing globalization in cultural as well as economic terms. This trend remains unchanged by the events of September 11; indeed, the crisis of a world defined by economic dependencies has become all the more visible.

    Up until the ’90s, the building housing the Kokerei Zollverein was used to process coal. Then the factory closed, finally reopening last year as a venue for cultural activities. In addition to the newly founded Kunstverein.

  • “Songs of Love and Hate”

    Artistic practice is becoming ever more dispersed. Now there is the “rock artist,” one who actually produces music rather than just referring to it visually. Laptop electronic artist Carsten Nicolai belongs to this circle, just as Angela Bulloch does, with her experimental and improvisational band of bass guitars. But what the two-part exhibition “Songs of Love and Hate” set out to explore was, rather, works in which art and music revolve around each other. The first installment, “Side A,” exhibited eight artists or collectives who address the fetish character of pop music Thus Astrid Küver