“One by one he counted them all, even those that weren’t in one piece, the faceless, sexless
remnants of people.”
(Fernanda Melchor, Hurricane Season)

A rhythm of incorporation and release permeates Ulrike Schulze’s works like breath. In the exhibition Inspire Expire, it seems as if the rigid, fragile bodies are imbued with a monstrous vitality. Each breath is accompanied by an invigoration and a loss. In this way, these bodies and the traces inscribed on them resonate with the human, living body, yet the compositions of raw materials such as modeled, fired ceramics, wood, bronze, and glass elude immediate classification. The interplay of meaning assignment and radical devaluation shapes the perception of the works. The eye feels rather than recognizes. The fine, glazed paint and the modeling of the material take place on the same preverbal level. Here, color is not an addition but part of the formation, merging with the surfaces.

Each work is a complex structure of different elements that attract, support, and repel each other. They follow their own grammar of gentle interventions and sculptural tectonics. In this interplay, the question of what it takes to be something is questioned anew each time. In her work, Ulrike Schulze moves between the borders of abstraction and deconstruction. A tension arises between form and matter, between the conscious and the unconscious, in which the quiet poetry of the works unfolds. The unintentional is provoked and is a calculated part of the settings. This consciously taken risk lies between openness and control. Within traditional sculptural subjects and seemingly familiar forms, the objects function as vessels for something that eludes direct verbal access – something unknown emerges from the works.

In her most recent works, Schulze integrates found footage. Enriched with an additional temporal layer, the clear forms of the drawer cabinets counteract the raw openness of the modeled ceramics. Small interventions reduce the found footage to its materiality without losing its connotation of everyday life, cool functionality, and uniform identity.

The poetic nature of Ulrike Schulze’s work lies in their unavailability, in their latent state between movement and standstill. Thus, a latency manifests itself in the space and in the tectonics of the works themselves. The compositional principle of each work continues in the space, and the precise placement of empty spaces contains the potential for further arrangements. In this way, the space becomes a stage, a lively space. The works oscillate in a sphere between real, physical, and virtual, imagined space.

Text by Sabrina Podemski

Manuel Graf is interested in the big questions of humanity, the development of human existence, and its cultural achievements, which allow us to observe this development. The focus is on art itself, architecture, and craftsmanship, as well as reflections on contemporary visual persuasion strategies, such as those we know from advertising.

In his cross-media artistic oeuvre, Graf critically examines the boundary between social utopia and the realities of life. His works reveal an artistic Janus-facedness, a precisely observed, kaleidoscopic view of human existence that is not limited to the here and now, but also attempts to interpret our cultural history in retrospect. The theme of the locomotive was originally inspired by Jeff Koons‘ 1986 exhibition “Luxury and Degradation,” which dealt with issues of class, education, and socioeconomic background.

Room 2 — “The Line”

Wall shelves, each holding a single locomotive. Their shininess contrasts the matte walls and other finishes; it becomes a mirror, a phantom of modernity.The machines appear more animated, yet ghostly. The viewer experiences motion through stillness — a cinematic illusion created by light and body movement. Conceptually, this is where progress meets entropy.

Using digital techniques such as 3D animation and architectural rendering, Graf connects themes that constantly establish links between different territories and historically overlapping time periods. In his latest works, he consistently uses text-to-image AI to ultimately transfer virtually created objects into the real world as 3D prints and casts.

The juxtaposition of the real and the virtual in his work also extends to the question of whether the new technological achievements of our society will make the hoped-for utopia possible or instead bring about a dystopian scenario. It is this genuine curiosity about the world and the search for corresponding images that characterizes the artist Manuel Graf.

Room 3 — “The Terminal”

One plinth holding a single locomotive. This is the “afterimage,” the end of the line. Position it slightly off-center, not frontal — so the viewer encounters it obliquely, like something remembered rather than witnessed. This room serves as the emotional coda. All motion has stopped, but the suggestion of continuity remains. It’s less an ending than a suspension.

Visitors move through the exhibition like through a sequence of thoughts rather than a narrative. Each locomotive is an image in three dimensions, its material surface a record of how memory attaches to form. The spaces become both archive and waiting room, industrial and domestic, past and future folded together.

Jan Albers once again emphasises his unique position as a contemporary “picture builder” – an artist who thinks radically, reacts sensitively to the world, works with his whole body and understands material as both a resistance and a collaborator.

ULRIKE SCHULZE | GALLERY EXHIBITIONS