29.3. bis 22.4.2019

Farbige Keramik-Skulpturen wirken, in bunt schillernden Schleifen, Kreisen und Knoten, wie dreidimensionale Zeichnungen.

Für die Ausstellung Central Check-In Hall hat Hendrike Nagel ein Script geschrieben, dass die Skulpturen der Ausstellung zum Leben erweckt. Basierend auf einem Essay von Rem Kohlhaas. Script: 

Central Check-In Hall. Two spaces. Divided. An environment full of seating arrangements. Indicating that this space might be significantly more exhausting than every other spatial sensation. Several figures inside. Deriving from different contexts, embodying different histories. Between them, no physical interaction. Each subject is immersed in its own internal monologue, its own world of thought.

( B i g   r o o m )


An interrelated group of individuals. Gathered together near the walls. Most of them too busy on cell phones to notice anything.


Turns its back on the others. Hyper aware of itself. [Mumbling]

Me in the mirror. Me in the polish. Me in the gold. Me in the shiniest surfaces. Me in the reflection. Me in my own reflection. Me in perfection.


Lies shyly in the space. Piles matter on top of matter. Creating space for itself while being lost in memories.

It’s hard to grasp, hard to remember. Histories were popping up left and right. There were no walls, only partitions, shimmering membranes frequently covered in mirror or gold. Interiors as big as the Pantheon. Referring to the Stone and Space Age at the same time. The aesthetic was Byzantine; a quasi-panoptical universe. Soon it all may revert to Taiwanese Gothic; in three years it may segue into Nigerian Sixties, Norwegian Chalet, or default Christian. Now, 13 percent Roman, 8 percent Bauhaus and 7 percent Disney, 3 percent Art Nouveau, followed closely by Mayan.


Leans casually. Gaze wanders.

It is like a Bermuda Triangle of concepts. Like a colossal security blanket that covers the earth in a stranglehold of seduction. Like being condemned to a perpetual Jacuzzi with millions of your best friends. Like an abandoned petri dish. Like a screen saver’s refusal to freeze ensuringinstant amnesia. Like the deactivated virus in an inoculation. Like earthlings living in a kindergarten grotesque. Or like a crab on LSD.

Someone from ARCHETYPE:

Seemingly ready.

O.K. Let’s explore the public space, discover casinos, spend time in theme parks,…


Highly devastated by this someone. [Snorting]

WTF! What is he doing? We have gained so much control: water is pressurised through very small holes, then forced into rigorous hoops; straight palms are bent into grotesque poses, air is burdened with added oxygen–as if only forcing malleable substances into the most drastic contortions maintains control, satisfies the drive to get rid of surprise. People will judge you by your deeds! Behave everybody!


Stands straight. Very perturbed.

I feel burdened by the anarchy implied in this space. I want to flow. I want to cohere. Where is the discipline? Where to go? So many signs. Left. Right. Left. Straight. Corridors no longer simply link A and B, but have become destinations. What’s my destiny? Where my point of departure? Have we reached terminal hollowness? Who do you think you are? Who do I think I am?

Another someone from ARCHETYPE:

Stretches. [Cracking bones]

This feels like a never ending casual Friday. A space free of duties, a duty free space.


Lies still. Introverted. Pretends to be on its own. [Mild sobbing]

We become smaller and smaller. Irregularity and uniqueness are constructed from identical elements. Everything is. I lie here and feel like a crypto-pixel. Performing in negotiated isolation. More and more, more is more. Isn’t it?

( S m a l l  r o o m )


Hangs around absorbing the environment. Recalls a song in its mind. [Buzzing]

…I am a God / I am a God / I am a God / I am a God / Hurry up with my damn massage / Hurry up with my damn ménage / Get the Porsche out the damn garage / I am a God…


Thinks mantras.

Restore, rearrange, reassemble, revamp, renovate, revise, recover, redesign, return – restore, rearrange, reassemble, revamp, renovate, …

Last someone from ARCHETYPE:

Shouts from the back. Agitated.

History corrupts, absolute history corrupts absolutely!

by Hendrike Nagel

* based on Rem Koolhaas essay on Junkspace




Lisa Tiemanns (* 1981) Skulpturen wohnen Absurdität und Komik inne. In der kompromisslosen Auseinandersetzung mit den Materialien Keramik, Stahl, Papier, Gummi und Latex ringt sie diesen eine ungewöhnliche Formensprache ab. Die auf diesem Wege produzierten Skulpturen bleiben in ihrer Fragilität stets prozesshaft.

Der bedeutsamste Werkstoff Tiemanns ist Ton, den sie nach dem Brennen glasiert. Weit vom üblichen Gebrauchswert der Keramik entfernt, nimmt das Material in ihren skulpturalen Arbeiten neue Formen an. Oft begegnet es uns zu langen, dünnen, vierkantigen Stäben gedehnt, gebogen und gezogen.

Die Skulpturen erinnern an dreidimensionale Zeichnungen. Die Formensprache Tiemanns durchläuft zeichnerische Gesten, die an Telefonnotizen erinnern, bis hin zum Kreis, der in leichten Asymmetrien Spannung erhält. Tiemanns farbig gefasste Skulpturen zeigen bunt schillernde Schleifen, Kreise und Knoten, die die Künstlerin auf Sockel stellt, an Wände montiert oder in den Raum hängt. Auch verwendet Tiemann Paletten und Transportkisten aus Holz zum Abstützen ihrer Kompositionen, die dabei selbst zu Bestandteilen ihrer skulpturalen Rauminterventionen werden. Das dominierende Material der Keramik kombiniert die Künstlerin zudem mit Latexschläuchen, deren Gewicht im optischen Gegensatz zur Keramik steht und illusionär von Tiemann eingesetzt wird. Besonders im Kontrast zu den Tonkörpern thematisieren die teils tragenden, teils hängenden Latexelemente die Wirkung von Gravität.

So stellt sich neben dem Eindruck schwebender Leichtigkeit, zugleich auch die Vorstellung von Spannung, Gewicht und Belastung ein.

Sophia Gräfe (2015)




Werkliste: PDF Download




Lisa Tiemann


18:00 – 22:00

29.3. – 22.4.2019
jeden Donnerstag von 16:00 – 20:00
und auf Termin

4.4.2019 20:00