TEXTS
Emmanuel Mir, 2016
Clothing
Let’s get to the point straight away, without any prelude or elaborate
introduction, and state bluntly but accurately that while the objects,
installations and assemblages of Ulrike Kessl, as she has been
increasingly creating them from various articles of clothing over the
past decade, inevitably lead to associations with the body, the human
body is by no means here her theme.
When nylon tights are stretched across the facade of a historical
building (Monument for Örebro) or between the four walls of a gallery
(Nylons in Space), when photography of dresses and blouses are sewn onto
a textile background (Islands) or safety vests linked up to form a
funnel hanging on the ceiling (Syövest), the viewer may be inclined to
see metaphors for the human form in these textile sculptures. That
would, however, be a conditioned reflex, a kind of intellectual
short-circuit that has gained currency in art appreciation over the past
half century. But in Ulrike Kessl’s works the focus is not on the body,
but on space. Her positioning of items of clothing and various textiles
reveals and highlights the physical and atmospheric features of the
room in which they appear. Both the material components (the dimensions,
colours, materials and composition, etc.) as well as the subjective
vibrancy of natural or architectural space are rendered visible in these
textile settings – sometimes highlighted and emphatic, sometimes
narrated.
It was necessary to clear up at the outset any possible
misunderstandings in the reception of Ms. Kessl’s work as the body
metaphor is pervasive and stubborn. In the context of visual art, it is
difficult to resist the narrative power of clothing, especially used
clothing. Whether as sculpture, installation or object, the isolated,
out-of-context garment evokes the human body and its various –
political, biographic or social – dimensions. The tradition of artists,
and primarily female artists, employing this element is long. From Meret
Oppenheim, Lygia Clark and Marie-France Guilleminot to Rebecca Horn –
the use of a modified and worked second skin is usually intended to draw
reference to the first. The political context also cannot be denied –
the body, this on-going battlefield of individuation in the
post-structural sense, is an eminent political entity, and its
artificial covering can be considered a visible symptom of invisible,
psychological and social processes. When specifically female artists
work with textiles as a medium, the feminist and gender ramifications
would seem to be rather obvious. This is due above all to certain
intellectual and sexual trends. The early 1990s, when Ulrike Kessl was
creating her first works and already making her mark in the art scene,
can now be seen as a particularly prolific decade for the genre of
“clothes sculptures”.1 This period saw a rise in the number
of female artists who were taking the surfaces of textiles as a medium
for their endeavours and with these coverings were exploring various
aspects of individuality. The Moss Coat by Leslie Fry, the long gowns of
Beverly Semmes, the eccentric costumes of Klaar van der Lippe or the
printed overcoat by Alba D’Urbano were all created at this time and
enjoy high visibility in the art world. Whether as installation or, and
in particular, when they are used en masse, the material communicates a
memento mori character, which can be seen most clearly in the works of
Annette Messager or Christian Boltanski. The worn clothing were then
used as a “lane of memory”2 and accordingly show a high degree of emotionality.
Whether as an object or an installation: The connotations raised by
textile sculptures have become so cemented in contemporary art that a
disinterested use of this form is now practically impossible. Ulrike
Kessl nevertheless attempts to reinterpret the material. When she
started working increasingly with textiles, she was well aware that she
was approaching the interpretative danger zone of the body metaphor.
Perhaps with a view to neutralising this risk, she initially focussed on
unprocessed materials, where the relationship to the body was not so
evident. In the Landscape series (1997) that she developed in Marfa,
Texas, or in Staircase (1994) and Brain (1998), the artist constructed
space of calico and muslin, which with their clear lines and their
purposeful, non-narrative presence, were defined architecturally. The
viewer’s body was of course never excluded from these space constructs –
on the contrary: theses spaces always had to be physically experienced;
nevertheless the association with intimate, individual bodies fell
further into the background in favour of a phenomenological exploration
of the spatial features present.
As if a reminiscence of these earlier works, some of the more recent
creations of Ulrike Kessl seek friction with the viewer. In Running
Clothes (2009), for example, the recipient’s body comes in direct
contact with the coloured nylon tights hanging on cables. In contrast to
Rutrill (2014) or the Monument for Örebro (2015), both of which imply a
frontal and therefore distanced reception, the physical confrontation
with the space is one central aspect of the installation. The visitor
penetrating the tunnel-like space of the Field Institute on the
Hombroich museum island, also finds himself physically very close to the
textile objects. It must, however, be emphasised that Running Clothes
was conceived especially for spatially difficult, elongated Field
Institute with its very sparse natural light. The nylon tights are
positioned as counterpoints in this space, their vertical lines
highlighting the dominant horizontal character of the location. Their
colours also create a stark contrast to the cold inhospitality of the
(albeit untypical) White Cube. The tights thus cause the visitor to
intensify his view, to intensify his perception. The room is not only
the carrier and the container; it is transformed into an autonomous
body, whose features become (more) amenable to the visitor with Kessl’s
intervention. In short: Running Clothes is a site-specific installation,
and like every site-specific installation, the main focus is on aspects
of space. The site-specific argument will in itself suffice to
invalidate mere psychological or narrative interpretations of the work
of Ulrike Kessl.
One interesting aspect of this work is the interaction between distance
and proximity. We have already hinted as this effect: works such as
Rutrill or Monument for Örebro keep the viewer at a distance – in strong
contrast to Running Clothes. The two-part Rutrill installation was
realised for the Lemgo art society and consists, in one part, of
colourful pairs of nylon tights fixed to an extension behind the
Eichenmüllerhaus building, while the other part is a monochrome line
made up of more pairs of tights stretched between two trees in the
adjacent garden. The sense of distance here is generated by the number
of works. A viewer can perceive the overall image of the clad facade
(“clad” to be understood here in the architectural sense) only at a
distance of at least twenty metres, while for the significantly larger
work at the Örebro town hall a further twenty metres are necessary. The
receiver is therefore prevented from recognising the overall structured
design and its detailed surface structure at the same time; he has to
move back and forth in order to link the two parts of the visual
information. A similar situation can be found in Rondo (2015), which is
suspended high above he heads of walkers, or Halbwolke (2010), which
also remains unreachable, whether in the interior or the exterior
version. By strategically positioning her installations at points that
provoke distance among visitors, Ulrike Kessl determines the focus and
controls the perceptive rhythm. The version of Nylon in Space (2015)
appearing in the city of Wuppertal on the other hand conjures up a sense
of closeness that recalls that generated by Running Clothes. The
visitor’s body is again here incorporated directly in the work, become
an integral part of the installation, caught in space like a fly in a
web.
With the maximum tensile extension of Nylon in Space, the nylons lose
all reference to their original function – they now function only as a
material, objects that are defined primarily by their elastic features.
They are, however, first and foremost elements that animate and
structure space and, perhaps, work counter to the existing room
structure. Again here we can discover an antithetical moment in Kessl’s
contribution. Because the interior architecture of Neuer Kunstverein is
dominated by horizontals and verticals and because the massive pillars
radiate weight and slowness, the artist has placed colourful diagonals,
that create an airy, illuminating and invigorating effect. The room is
then scarcely recognisable. Or: You simply have to see it with entirely
new eyes.
A similar challenge was presented by the thankless corner in the Wilhelm
Lehmbruck Museum in Duisburg, where Ulrike Kessl installed a different
version of Nylon in Space. Thankless, because it is highly unsuitable
for conventional exhibition of art works, with its tiny window corner
interrupting the flow of the wall surface and with the light rails on
the ceiling providing yet another visual disturbance. But this is
precisely where Ulrike Kessl applies her imagination and skill,
stretching her nylon net out to solve all that spatial awkwardness. The
installation becomes an ornament giving the room a new homogeneity and
dynamism. These two installations show clearly how Ms. Kessl seeks out
challenges and gets fulfilment in tackling problems posed by complicated
architectural space. The nylon tights are in this sense an adequate and
humorous response to “impossible locations”: Just like an invasive
plant species with a high physical adaptability, they nestle up to every
structure and transform it for the brief duration of the intervention.
The material is, however, also so light and delicate that it does not
impede on or smother its environment. Nylon tights can cope with every
space and room, but without making it disappear completely.
The nylon tights are either bought new or – simply because the artist
requires a large volume of them – used as used pairs. In the latter
case, they are first collected, generally on the basis of a local appeal
for donations of unwanted items, and then dyed, although their original
colour does give the creation a special touch. The artist naturally
arranges the colour combinations after careful consideration, composing
with varying shades of a basic colour (Rondo, 2015) or, in other cases,
working with striking contrasts (Nylons in Space, 2015/16). A comparison
with painting would, however, be an exaggeration. The colour is rather
to be seen as a signal, as a marker in space, easily identifiable even
from a distance. It readily draws the attention into the landscape and
emphasises the function of the textile objects as eye-catchers.
Tension, lightness and dynamism characterise Ulrike Kessl’s sculptural
works of. Und: something is always handing down from the ceiling or from
the wall. Art in suspension. Art seeking a vertical. Art refusing to
accept gravity and preferring air as its support (a very unusual
tendency in the field of sculpture). As was the case with Nylon in
Space, Halbwolke (2010) exists in two distinct versions. The first was
suspended from trees in a garden on the Rhine, while the other was fixed
between two balconies in the staircase of the Bucharest agricultural
museum and floated gently above its atrium. This installation emerged
from a trip by the artist to Rumania, where she got to know the
Moldavian monasteries with their characteristic gently curved roofs,
recalling stylish and broad bonnets. Halbwolke (Half-cloud) provides a
fine example of how Ulrike Kessl can neutralise any potential narrative
or atmospheric factors in her work. Despite the title being stipulated,
the illusion should not include too much space – it is not a small
cloud, but rather a half-cloud. A red border was therefore sewn in that
intentionally thwarts any narrative implication of the work. More than a
mere object (cloud, jellyfish, flower, boat, UFO, etc.) or more than
the stylised memory of an object from the real world, Halbwolke is
primarily a form, a form with a specific physical identity, but without
narrative reference, without history, without anecdote. An abstract and
therefore general form, one not reduced to any special association.
We are, however, unable to deny a certain association with a certain
part of art history: that of the baldachin or canopy. This ornate cover
over a throne, an altar or a bed is – contrary to common assumption –
never a purely decorative element. The baldachin achieves above all a
marking. It highlights a particular point, emphasising that the object,
or subject, present underneath is noble or even sacred. Baldachins are
accordingly also found in enclosed spaces, such as a church, a relic
shrine or a tomb. The baldachin provides not only protection, it is
especially a symbol and a visualisation of power and dignity. It
ostentatiously draws attention to the elevated status of the people or
the space beneath. This marking function can be recognised in various
works of Ulrike Kessl – in Rondo, in Rutrill und in Syövest (2016). With
their positioning in prominent places in interiors and exteriors, Ms.
Kessl creates a distinct special zone in the landscape and ensures more
focused and intensive attention on this zone. This fact underlines again
the remark we made above regarding function of colour in these
installations: each arrangement sends a signal, a challenge, to perceive
the genius loci of the place more carefully.
In this spatially defined working context, the image assemblages of
Ulrike Kessl generate an additional reflection medium removed from any
local idiosyncrasies of the site. Piles of shirts, bras, pants and other
textiles are arranged according to shades of colour so that a uniform
overall impression is created and is then grouped and photographed in
“Islands”, as the title of the series indicates. In a further step, the
medium-sized photographs are sewn onto carpets, such that their picture
characteristics are transformed, oscillating in an object-like
appearance between flatware and a spatial object. These are each
independent creations, without any reference to existing installations
and not even conceived as a concept aid for future realisations; to see
them as mere sketches would be a misunderstanding. These formal
experiments, sounding out potential opportunities for a work with
acquired used items of clothing, are present in order to highlight
certain aspects of Ms. Kessl’s artistic production. The form, the play
with volumes and with vacant spaces, the tears and fissures and the
drapes, the texture of the various surfaces and the circumspect
variations of the different designs come to the fore here.
Above all in this assemblage cycle can we recognise the significance of
the materiality in the work of Ulrike Kessl. Repeating this point we can
finally close the circle: The artist’s heedfulness of surface structure
and materiality of her medium reveals the special nature of her
approach while also marking a clear delineation in relation to other
textile works of art in contemporary art. The sculptress Ulrike Kessl
has accepted the challenge posed by a material that, while full of
narrative and art historical references and is temptingly open to
psychological interpretation, nevertheless primarily holds physical,
material characteristics and is employed here to formulate commentaries
on specific spaces. In this work, therefore, the human body is an
instrument of perception and not a thematic focus.
Emmanuel Mir
1. See, for example, the exhibitions “Empty Dress –
Clothing as Surrogate in Recent Art” in ICI New York (1993), “Discursive
Dress” in the Kohler Art Center, Sheboygan (1994) or “Metaphors. The
Image of Clothing in Contemporary Art” in Huntsville Museum of Art
(1989).
2. Cora von Pape: Kunstkleider – Die Präsenz des Körpers in textilen Kunst-Objekten des 20. Jahrhunderts, Bielefeld 2008.