ALINA GRASMANN INTERVIEW

Sculpting in Time exhibition at the Fridman Gallery — *Sculpting in Time* exhibition at the Fridman Gallery

German artist Alina Grasmann currently has a solo exhibition called Sculpting in Time at New York’s Fridman Gallery (through January 5, 2021). From the gallery’s site: “Alina Grasmann is a realist painter whose large-scale, site-specific series blur fact and fiction. Her works are inspired by her travels, American architecture, film, and literature. Each series contains about 10–15 paintings, all based on specific locations. Grasmann researches places and then visits them in real life, recording her experiences and the atmosphere through photographs. Drawn to the narratives of each place, she compares the reality and sensation of the place with the way she imagined it would be, then makes interventions by changing or adding objects, or erasing parts. Rather than illustrating existing myths about a place, she aims to create space for association so new stories emerge.

In Sculpting in Time, the second series featured in the exhibition, bizarre dreams are set against the backdrop of the experimental desert town of Arcosanti, Arizona, a site of visionary utopia and a relic that embodies its future as well as its past. Inside its rooms, Grasmann leads the viewer through an imaginarium of items and objects arranged as a cabinet of curiosities that reject clear symbolism, lending the scenes to be explored and filled with subjective meaning. Sculpting In Time is the name of the creative manifesto written by the Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky, whose visual language shares an enigmatic quality with Grasmann’s work. The compositions unfold in time, yet every scene appears frozen in the minds of the viewers.”

Interview by Tyler Nesler

What attracted you to the use of Arcosanti as a backdrop to your Sculpting in Time series? Did you visit the site and participate in any of the workshops or hands-on activities that continue as a part of the location's experiments?

In the winter of 2017-18, I went to Phoenix to visit my good friend there for New Year’s. She knew that I was interested in special places, their stories and architecture, and in urban projects in general. She took me on a day trip to Arcosanti. I was immediately taken with the place, and knew that I would have to return, to spend more time there, to really connect with it. I’ve kept it in the back of my mind ever since. Last year (2019), Arcosanti was the final destination on a long road trip across the continent – from the East to the West coast. I rented a dorm and thus had access to the entire site and the opportunity to take photos in peace.

I deliberately did not take part in workshops or other activities there. On the one hand, these group activities are not really my thing. I am a painter, used to working alone in my studio. On the other hand, I always look for alone time when I do my research. I want to be one-on-one with the place, so to speak. I think this is reflected in my paintings. Often, I am not even aware what it is about certain places that makes me dedicate an entire series and at least one year of my life to them. Usually, the initial interest in a place would come from stories, films or articles that I’ve read or watched. I then begin to research it. When I’m on site, however, I proceed very intuitively. The urban utopia of Arcosanti feels to me like a vision of the future from the past. Perhaps it was that feeling, that sparked my interest in this location in the first place. Arcosanti was founded in the 70s by the architect Paolo Soleri who was a student of Frank Lloyd Wright. Soleri advanced Wright’s theories of building and living in nature and transferred them to the era of the oil crisis, a time when people were skeptical about civilization. To date, only around 1% of the original plans have been completed. So, it is a place that contemplates escaping from civilization and the possibility of an alternative life – concepts that have been revitalized in recent times. But for me, it is also a location that embodies its future as well as its past. Arcosanti is visionary architecture and a relic at the same time.

“Sculpting in Time 1” (2020), Oil on canvas, 51” h x 70” w

Are there any specific elements to the concept of arcology that you feel lent an underlying conceptual influence on Sculpting in Time?

Perhaps the genealogy of the word “arcology” is similar to my way of painting. “Arcology” combines “architecture” and “ecology” into a new concept. In my paintings I try to link the externally visible world with an internally experienced world and thereby create new spaces. I want my paintings to be pictorial implementations of real, existing architecture, in which I can devote myself to personal examination of nature and the transience of things. On the other hand, if you will, I am bringing an architectural relic to life. Arcosanti was originally planned to be a home for thousands of people who should live an alternative life there. Today, there are only a few people left and most of them only stay for a short time. I try to fill the rooms with life. You can’t see people in my paintings, but you can feel their presence. So, one could say, I paint images of a utopia as it could have been.

“Sculpting in Time 2” (2020), Oil on canvas, 51” h x 70” w

The title Sculpting in Time also refers to the Russian film director Andrei Tarkovsky's book about his work, and the visual language of your paintings reflects the mysterious stillness and atmospheres of his films. Do you think there is any one of his films in particular that has had the most visual influence on your Sculpting in Time series?

Visually, the movie Solaris was probably subconsciously crucial for me. Without this film, I would certainly not have dared to associate Tarkovsky’s complex cosmos of ideas with this architecture. At first glance, Tarkovsky has nothing to do with Arcosanti. But to me, Solaris also shows an idea of a future in a way that is nostalgic – not only from today’s perspective. Tarkovsky is said to have told his art director “to make the space station look like a broken-down old bus and not like some futuristic space utopia.” In terms of content, however, his film Nostalgia is at least as important. In this movie one always has the feeling of witnessing a biographical processing of Tarkovsky, and yet the film always defies any clear legibility.

“Sculpting in Time 3” (2020), Oil on canvas, 51” h x 70” w

Bruegel's painting "The Hunters in the Snow" is hanging on the wall depicted in the room of your work "Sculpting in Time 3." "The Hunters in the Snow" is also shown and referenced in two Tarkovsky films, Solaris and The Mirror. I also see other famous paintings hanging in other works of yours such as Hopper's "House by the Railroad" in "The Montauk Project (when did I encourage you)" and what appears to be "The Kiss" by Klimt in "Sculpting in Time 4." Was your intent to include multiple layered references to your influences in these works? Were you also going for a kind of tongue-in-cheek brazenness and playfulness with these inclusions?

All sorts of topics and things that I am currently dealing with and that surround me have an influence and flow into my collage-like way of working. So, it is likely to happen that a piece of art that I’m currently crazy about or that I’m just thinking about a lot right now appears in my next painting in one way or another. But it is important to me to always show very clearly that these are quotations. That is why the originals of these famous artworks never appear in the world of my paintings realistically, only as their own fuzzy replicas. For example, it’s not Edward Hopper’s “House by the Railroad” that you see hanging over a hotel bed in one of my paintings. It is a totally oversaturated print that is far too bright. This becomes even clearer in the work “The Montauk Project – my life as a man,” in which I turned Bruegel’s “Hunters in the Snow” into a wallpaper. I see my job as an artist as dealing with the world that surrounds me and not as reinventing the wheel.

Art history has proven often enough that one thing arises from the other and that new worlds follow from that. For example, although it is only a small part of what must be a very long chain of mutual inspiration: it is obvious that Bruegel’s paintings inspired Tarkovsky and now Tarkovsky in turn inspires today’s filmmakers such as Lars von Trier. Or take Hopper’s “House by the Railroad” again, which served as a template for the house in Hitchcock’s Psycho. In general, I don’t believe in the idea of the hermit genius artist who draws exclusively from inside. And yes, I try to deal with it in a playful way. I want my quotes to be so obvious that they are almost funny. I do like the idea that my paintings are fun to look at.

“Sculpting in Time 4” (2020), Oil on canvas, 51” h x 70” w

An aesthetic of Wunderkammers (cabinets of curiosities) is also present throughout your paintings. The scenes in Sculpting in Time are imaginariums of sorts but there is a very calm and orderly atmosphere present as well. Are you playing with the combinations of unexpected objects and arrangements in otherwise serene or static compositions?

I am pleased if you were surprised by the compositions of the objects. I only select objects that make sense to me, and I always think for a long time and very carefully about the combination of these objects in my paintings. So they are clearly not unexpected to me. I plan most of my paintings months before I start painting. I do care a lot about the objects I put in my rooms, but the arrangement, how and where I place them in the composition of the painting, follows more of an intuitive logic. For me, the overall composition is of the utmost importance. Although all of the objects in my paintings have a personal meaning to me, I consciously hold this back because I want the viewers to deal with the objects for themselves. I think the fact that things seem sort of tidy just suits my character. Every object – also in my everyday life – simply belongs to a very specific place. Maybe this is my very personal pursuit of the harmony of things. Also your comparison with the baroque curiosity cabinets fits very well in a certain way. Since my objects all have certain meaning to me, you could say that I try to represent my view of the world with the composition.

“Sculpting in Time 5” (2020), Oil on canvas, 51” h x 70” w

What was the personal significance for you of including a depiction of your childhood home in the paintings "Sculpting in Time 1" (in which it is on fire) and "Sculpting in Time 2"?

Houses are very important to me, which is obvious when you look at my work. The most important house, the one that appears frequently in my paintings and that will certainly keep me occupied longer, is my childhood home. I have strong feelings for this house, but not bad ones. I definitely don’t want to set it on fire. “Sculpting in Time 1” is the first painting of the series. It is also the first painting in which I dared and tried to approach Tarkovsky’s complexity of ideas. With the overall composition I want to refer to a scene in his film The Mirror in which the protagonist’s childhood home is on fire.

“The Montauk Project (did you have a good time)” (2019), Oil on canvas, 39” h x 55” w

In your earlier series The Montauk Project you invoke the eerie stillness of American landscapes and structures often associated with Ed Hopper's works. What are some aspects of these emptied buildings and places that appeal to you as subjects? In what ways do you think you have added your own distinct mark to this particular style?

I think it’s remarkable that many people immediately think of Hopper when they look at my paintings. I can understand it, but I feel differently. Of course I also paint American landscapes. Of course, Hopper‘s work has an impact on mine and I do love his paintings. I’ve also already traveled to places only because I knew he had painted them. But actually he’s just one of many influences. So what do I do differently than Hopper? I am a completely different person, I live in a different century, I live in Europe and grew up there.

Nevertheless, I feel great familiarity with this “typical American.” Maybe that‘s because it is very common here to grow up watching American movies and TV series, and reading American literature, which teach you that the world, the houses, the streets, and the cars look just like they do in the U.S. This image of the world is shaped subconsciously and when you travel to America for the first time, you recognize this world again. It seems to be very familiar in a strange way. But it‘s not just that. When I look at places and houses in the U.S. today, I get the feeling that they also exude a great longing for familiarity and security – so strong that it‘s almost cheesy/kitschy. I think that exact longing is very noticeable in Hopper‘s paintings. To me, this longing is a substantial part of the American culture, too. The motifs and the world I paint are often similar to Hopper‘s. So what is it then that I am doing differently? Naturally, I have completely different questions about this world and thus about painting.

“The Montauk Project (i like your sense of humor)” (2019), Oil on canvas, 39” h x 55” w

“The Montauk Project (how did i encourage you)” (2019), Oil on canvas, 39” h x 55” w

“The Montauk Project (when did i encourage you)” (2019), Oil on canvas, 39” h x 55” w

You always work in series unified by specific themes or styles. Do you view creating a space for narratives in your series as fundamental to your approach to painting? You have been inspired by the legends of specific locales such as Arcosanti and Montauk and the imaginary "paper city" of Agloe — do you wish to reveal any current plans for a future series, and what discovery of yours may be inspiring it?

For me this is divided into two parts. On the one hand, I approach my paintings and places with very specific and very subjective questions. But I don’t want the viewers to just adopt my question. I want my paintings to be blank spaces of sorts for the viewers, in which they could become the protagonists. And when stories arise in the minds of the viewers, that’s great. But I don’t necessarily want my paintings to create spaces for stories. It could also be that a feeling arises, even if vague. In any case, I’m happy if my paintings trigger something in the person who is looking at them. Regarding future places I can tell that my next series will be located in Florida. And that I am very interested in the concept of the baroque Theatrum Mundi at the moment.