Galerie b2

CINDY SCHMIEDICHEN
"the walls are painted white"


A patient and useless labour came into existence as we began for the first time to read the world. (Alberto Manguel)

It topples, clanks, rattles. Far away from human control and prediction, layers and plates push against each other, wreaking havoc within our well ordered system. Pictures hang askew, shelves are slanted, shacks collapse like houses of cards. Objects are inundated by other objects. Harmless states of emergency or humanitarian catastrophes, followed in reliable regularity by reordering, reconstruction, layering and piling up. Each thing has its proper place and purpose, the stones one on top of the other, the pictures on the wall.

The Walls Are Painted White: here there is room for error, for the expelled, the irrelevant, for ugly and false combinations. Outside, they would be flattened by a steamroller driven by common sense. Here on the inside there is room for the random, for hope and happiness.

... for a few seconds only... everything rattled... like a drone..., wrote Cindy Schmiedichen in an email from Tokyo in 2008. A patient reading of the world, accompanied by a drone that keeps turning loud, begins anew.

Rebecca Wilton