Angelika Krinzinger, "UNA"
Eternally Fleeting Creatures
Every bit of matter can be conceived as a garden full of plants or a pond full of fish. But each branch of the plant, each member of the animal, each drop of its bodily fluids, is also such a garden or such a pond.
And though the earth and the air between the plants of the garden or the water between the fish and the pond are certainly neither plant nor fish, they contain yet more of them, though mostly of a minuteness imperceptible to us.
G.W. Leibniz
Angelika Krinzinger's photographs explore the virtual abundance of sensation. The animals — her new pictures show enlarged details of different animal's bodies — are close enough to be touched. Through the close-up perspective, our eyes gain a haptic function in addition to their usual optical one. It is impossible to step back as we are right in the middle of the image.
Already her series Gladiatoren (details from gladiator's skulls dating from Roman times) and the series Leaves (photograms of dried plants from a herbarium) deal with relics not as lifeless symbols or signs which merely exist as a reference to something from the past; with this process, she reintroduces relics into the process of life, into time again passing by, celebrating these relics as immediate entities which do not stand apart from their roll as intermediary. In this respect, her new series does not examine animals as representatives of a certain genus, species or breed, but rather she examines each animal as something singular with its own particular habits and behavior. These habits unfold in the "still" events which occur without notice, remaining almost unheeded in our everyday actions and perceptions. Krinzinger shows us the still life that continually flows amidst the noise of everyday life. In order to capture this, one must lose oneself in the object; one must live with these animals trying to find out what drives them to continue on and what limits them. Maintaining a distance, for the artist, also means losing the particular, as we only grasp the particular in the context of concrete experiences and specific occurrences. Losing oneself in things, in these living beings, can also mean no longer knowing whether or not it is a matter of a dog or a cat — but this anyway, as Krinzinger often emphasizes, is unimportant. The viewer does not have to be able to distinguish which living being (what kind of animal) is under consideration, a living being does not have to conform to the image we already have of it. It is not a question of showing what dogs are really like. She does not differentiate between animals, humans and things using the anatomical differences found in biology, which sum up and hierarchically organize living beings into groups using predetermined characteristics.
The body always remains including everything that it is capable of: this body as part of a fleeting occurrence out of which the artist extracts the singular. Such an occurrence is comprised of different bodies such as a pair of whiskers, a draft of air — some noises? — "What has got into you?" — It is a question of the singularity of an individual expression, of the virtual connections between heterogeneous elements, of the potential inherent to a situation: The wind shifts a hair. As images of such events, the photographs are not excerpts, as they express a totality, even if there is always a more comprehensive totality. As such they do not imply anything that would first need to be completed as every detail is in itself a totality.
Mathias Schönher
Translation: David Quigley
Modified translation after: Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, Monadology, (trans.) Nicolas Rescher, Routledge, London, 1992, pg.26
each photography 90x120cm, edition 3, 2007