Of all contemporary artists, Brigitte Kowanz is perhaps among those who have most consistently tackled the issue of constructed space. This raises some fundamental questions regarding the relationship between the architectural structure and the work of art, between the commissioner and freedom of expression. Dealing with constructed space, the architectural building, means taking its existence as a starting point, as a precondition, as opposed to starting work in the studio with no conditioning factors. A building is a manufactured object, a “thing” that has a position, a completeness of its own. It is for this reason that even when the architect leaves areas which offer scope for intervention by the artist, it is not that the building lacks something, but rather that the possibility has been left for someone to work there. The scope of this interplay between art and architecture is necessarily conditioned: Whilst the architect may be the commissioner the artist deals with, the architect in turn has a commissioner to answer to, and often the stage of architectural creation is closely tied to managerial organization. Further opportunity may arise from this complex relational dynamic when the collaboration between artist and architect happens during the planning stages; that is, when the idea for the building has not yet been fully defined. The possibility of this interaction happening at this planning stage is, in fact, relatively rare. The artist has to work in buildings which are largely complete, and it’s up to the artist to take on a delicate task: considering the possibility of making one more mark, one more presence within preset conditions, finding a way to bend, to adapt, to adhere. This is a necessary phase of listening in order to perceive that which is not yet expressed, which the defined building can still allow as a condition which does not exist as of yet. This need for listening and adherence to given conditions is the same when it comes to discussing a work of art; in this case, the conditions inherent in a specific artistic path. When describing a work of art, we are – within the conditions prescribed by the actual structure – also exploring latently present dimensions that are made possible by but not yet realized in the work.
Artistically adhering to the request of the commissioner does not mean “becoming one” with the commissioner. In the same way, critical discussion about a work of art cannot become an effort of “camouflage” within the folds of the work. In both cases, it is a matter of finding the lines of conjunction which have a depth of their own and do not just exist on the surface. We will endeavor to describe this further space of interpretation through four distinct lines of reasoning.
Time Spaces
Time − its measurement and making it apparent − has been a problem tackled by Kowanz’s work since her early installations in architectural spaces in the 1980s. It has always been a difficult problem for art to portray the pervasive nature and flow of time and how to measure it. What comes to mind is the finger running on a dusty lute in Evaristo Baschenis’ still lifes, or Duchamp and Man Ray’s Dust Breeding. In both cases, time is represented by what builds up on surfaces, making them opaque; the flow of time is a process of progressive veiling. This build-up on objects diminishes their splendor. For Kowanz, time has nothing to do with time that consumes things, with time/dust. It is rather the immediateness of the splendor of time/light that she is interested in portraying. The artwork continues to work as a problematic device for the measurement and representation of the nature of time, but it is no longer about time passing and consuming, but of time/the instant which eludes us because we are not able to perceive it. That is, until one gets to the details of time/light, staging a paradoxical and precise numeric sequence, written in neon, made by the fractions of millionth parts of seconds that light takes to cover a certain distance in meters. Kowanz elaborates different versions of works about the speed of light, although the problem of the representation of time encompasses a larger number of works and different formal solutions, from Kalender (Calendar, 1996), and Rund um die Uhr/Weltzeiten (Around the Clock/Universal Time, 1996) to Another Time Another Place (2004/05). What is relevant in her works about the speed of light − perhaps even more so than in other works which are also about time − is related to the space/time paradox. This kind of work takes theories from the world of physics and portrays them in daily life; for example, becoming part of a building, as in the installations in the Meteorit, RWE AG in Essen (1997/98), or in the foyer of the Wienerberger Business Park in Vienna (1995). Kowanz’s luminous “short circuit” is generated through space/time as perceived existentially by the viewer and the measurement of the relationship between space and time obtained through the medium of (artificial) light. This medium allows the transition to take place between the purely abstract nature of contemporary physical data and the concrete “here and now” of the viewer. Kowanz believes that portraying time through exclusively physical parameters of measurement is, with great conceptual coherence to the nature of the materials she works with, a process of illumination. This process would be impossible if the medium were natural light; only through distancing from the natural state of phenomena can we become aware of the visible side of what is invisible. This is not a metaphysical realization, but a logical conclusion, since the parameters from which Kowanz’s work stem are based on Einstein’s theories and perceptive dynamics. The title Lichtgeschwindigkeit sek/6m (vertikal) – Lichtgeschwindigkeit sek/5m (horizontal) (Speed of Light sec/6m [vertical] – Speed of Light sec/5m [horizontal]) is fundamental to understanding the work, and is a clear statement of her working method. However, this is not immediately apparent to viewers; what they see is a puzzling sequence of numbers, unutterable, and on the verge of unimaginable. The title works as a reminder of the non-arbitrary nature of Kowanz’s artistic practice, but whilst the work itself appears complete, it has an aspect which seems exact and, at the same time, enigmatic. Right before our eyes, there is a strict and paradoxical sequence of what cannot be measured, as if at the heart of the precision of a parameter which has influenced contemporary history and the development of scientific thinking lay a condition which is both alienating and revealing from a perceptive point of view. In contrast to the space built by the architect, whose functioning can and must be measured through the tangible nature of things and materials, that is to say, only through that which is measurable, Kowanz’s work is the luminous counterpart of what is immeasurable: 0.0000000 …
Units of Measurement/Metrics
Perhaps the most explicit attempt to consider a further dimension in the building, to open it up to a different relationship, is Kowanz’s unique work on the concept of the unit of measurement, which, in this case, is specifically spatial, Maßstab 1:1 – 1:6 (Scale 1:1 – 1:6). There are at least two different versions of this work, both of which merit description. The first one was on the first floor of the Architekturforum Tirol building in Innsbruck (1994−1996). It was made of six works on the insides of the windowpanes. Each one was a square made of white neon lights and neon numbers showing scale ratios (from 1:1 to 1:6) within the squares. The dimensions of the illuminated perimeter of the six different neon squares matched the different ratio of the perimeter of each square to that of the windowpanes. The second version of the work, Maßstab 1:1 – 1:4 (Scale 1:1 – 1:4) (1994/2007) was a series of L-shaped elements of different measurements. Once again, these elements contained neon numbers expressing the ratio between the measurements of the element and the horizontal and vertical sides of the walls wherever they were installed. This second version is a site-specific intervention which is recalculated each time it is repositioned. Maßstab (Scale) is a work that could be considered a sort of tautological statement, literally shining a light on the artist’s intentions with nothing left over for further interpretation (as in the procedures for Lichtgeschwindigkeit sek/6m [Speed of Light sec/6m]).
It is this adherence between intention, formal solution and specific space which constitutes the problematic and far from straightforward aspect of this work. This is because it is based on the accentuation (only seemingly tautological) of the ratio between the artistic sign and the context in which it is articulated. Each time an intervention is made in a given condition, Kowanz first clarifies the fundamental issue of the logical nexus in methodological terms, that is, striving for adherence between one’s way of working and a specific context. By declaring that this constitutes a ratio and not a relationship that can be left to the judgment of artistic freedom, as it may lose its adherence, she gradually develops the operational criteria capable of tying that way of working and that gesture to a specific situation. Thus, the artist highlights the relational issue between her practice and the context, showing that it is always a question of scale, measurements and ratios coming into play; in general, a question of metrics. Considering as an example the first ratio (1:1), which opens the series in the Innsbruck installation, it can be seen that the first number refers to the given situation, the determined context and, in general, the space designed by the architect. The second number, apparently identical to the first one, refers to the specific nature of theartist’s intervention; that is, the unit of measurement she chooses to use when starting a new relationship with the context and with the space designed by the architect. In its bare simplicity, this work successfully identifies Kowanz’s working method: adhering to the given conditions, highlighting the constituent elements and transforming them from opaque to luminous. The Innsbruck installation could only be seen at its best by night, when a different condition could fully emerge and be viewed compared to daily habitual appearance.
Underlining the perimeter of a surface to highlight an otherwise invisible border was used again years later in the installation at the Landesmusikschule in Windischgarten, Volumen (Volumes, 2004). In this instance, the aim was not only enhancing the hidden two-dimensional shape but also highlighting a hypothetical volume between two perametral underlinings made of yellow neon lines/pilaster strips, outlining the empty space between two architectural bodies and forming a large balcony. In the end, highlighting and underlining are just a matter of tracing the lines of the building and illuminating those borders capable of generating one more shape without adding any building material at all.
Evidentiary Devices
The work at the Architekturforum recalls a substantial series of works by the artist with architectural elements that by their very nature create a relationship between inner and outer spaces: glass panes in all their diversity of type, function and position, from those used on the ground floor to the large glass wall completely integrated into the building. Kowanz believes that the scope for intervention in buildings resides mainly in spheres and elements with a public vocation that define a space and use that are potentially collective. From this point of view, her work is the antithesis of architectural work, seen as “opaque” volumes trying to separate the spheres of that which is private and that which is public. The architectural building, by its very nature, cannot be generic, but must specialize according to its use and the requests of those who commissioned it. However, Kowanz’s work brings the building to a wider dimension, no longer limited by its specific function but aimed at a more generally collective use. Hers is a work on the limits and threshold of the building, looking for possible protrusions and dilations, even if these were not explicitly conceived by the architectural project. It would not be unreasonable to claim that Kowanz’s work seems to be about the unconscious of the building, opening it to a level of communication which is less tied to the function for which it was originally meant. This process of protruding and dilating is achieved in different ways. In the four Virtuelle Vitrinen (Virtual Showcases) (1999–2000) at the Kitzbühel Museum, there is an actual projection of four glass structures. These protrude at different depths from the frames of the original windows. The sense of dilation is further enhanced by varying the light of the structures. The luminosity increases and decreases, controlled by an electronic device which mimics the rhythm of human breath. This is a reference to the organic dimension of the inorganic structure of the building, which seems to come alive and luminously breathe. In the installation for the MEAG office building in Munich, the four windows protrude at the same depth from the continuous line of the façade. In this instance, the rhythm of the light sequences created by the 15 red neon tubes and the 15 yellow neon tubes in each window no longer comes from the binary nature of breathing, but from a complex sequence which recalls a minimalist and serial musical score, indeed, a Lichtpartitur (Light Score) (2000−2001). In the “Neonstelen” sequence rhythmically punctuating the pedestrian path of the Jakob Burckhardt Haus in Basel (2002−2004), the glass structured projections are completely emancipated from the body of the building; they protrude from it, becoming self-standing transparent volumes while at the same time maintaining an obvious formal reference to the dimensions of the windows on the façades. These, too, were the result of a collaboration between the architect and artist, who transformed them into luminous modulations through the use of an undulated aluminium covering. The rhythm of the luminous composition of the stelae no longer comes from the relationship with breathing or music, but from the progressive reading of the letters making the words “ORT” (place) and “WEG” (path).
The luminous structures, completely extruding from the building, become indications that beat a rhythm and enhance the urban landscape. The importance of transparency as a quality of glass, the building material of choice for Kowanz, is also reflected in the way the words are used. The two terms chosen by the artist simply describe their relationship with the place and context, once again with nothing left for further interpretation. However, the placing of the words is provocative and heightens this perception. The neon elements making up each single letter are divided over three stelae, making a total of six groups placed at a distance from each other. The single letters making up each word are readable horizontally, and not, as might be expected, vertically. A kind of vanishing point perspective is thus created, enhancing the depth of the urban route. The work of art functions as a device to alert the perceptive attention. It does not excessively concern itself with the interpretative sphere, but rather, thanks to the transparency of the materials (which is not only a technical matter) and the unequivocal nature of the chosen words (as long as they are read in the right direction), it encourages viewers, or simply passers-by, to become aware of the environment they live in.
The work at the Jacob Burckhardt Haus is the result of collaboration between Kowanz and the architect Hans Zwimpfer, a collaboration which had already occurred some years before for the project of the inner façade of the first court of the Peter Merian Haus in Basel, Lichthof (Light Court, 1995−1999). This is a work that not only represents one of the most successful collaborations between art and architecture, but also represents a highly relevant conceptual turning point in the understanding of the connection between words, light, transparency and perception. Light is what we see summarizes all these aspects and literally lets them float to the surface of the building, while completely adhering to the structural choices which define the whole building. Each single letter is framed in a glass module about 150 centimeters wide and 330 centimeters high, arranged over the five floors of the building, and repeated twice so as to be readable on both sides of the façade. There is a difference, however, and it is no coincidence that this difference relates to perception: From the courtyard of the building, the writing can be read in its entirety at one glance, while on the other side, the inner one, the writing can only be read by going up or down the five floors. Instantaneous and kinetic natures are two aspects (the alpha and omega) of the perceptive conditions with which Kowanz works. The writing itself, in its concise meaning, seems to only describe the primary conditions of our experience. Light is both the means that allows us to see and the very object of our vision, that which we literally have “before our eyes” and whose readability varies according to the hour of the day and the ever-changing relationship between natural and artificial light. While completely integrating with the building, the artwork traces on its surface a reference to the phenomenological evidence of which we were not previously aware, even though we live amongst it. It is an example of the communicative, or rather epiphanic, value of the word in its role in the structural relationship between art and architecture. This example reminds us of the architecture parlante of the age of enlightenment, as well as from an ethical/educational point of view. However, Kowanz’s writing no longer has an ideological purpose but rather seeks to reveal an existential condition which relates to all of us: that of being, concretely, immersed in light. Looking beyond the individual is a constant factor in Kowanz’s work. This gives rise to the need to address a collective subject, the “us” to whom we reveal the conditions of equality and reciprocity which make our existence possible, inasmuch as they are based on a common bio-perceptive substrate. The epiphanic character of writing like this − and it is also true of other works by the artist − is related to this substrate, to our “here and now” determining our radical “contingency.” This is a contingency which should be taken as a possible starting point for another way of living which is not metaphysically elsewhere but “here” in the same fundamental, everyday, conditions of life for which the artwork becomes an illuminating device.
Messages, Calligraphy
The ways in which the communication in Kowanz’s work occurs, explicitly tied to the word and the message, can be different but share the creation of self-evidence and adherence to a circumstance, opening it, so to speak, from within. In the layout of the text created for the St. Margarethen school complex in Sterzing, Die verschlüsselte Nachricht dieses Schriftbandes bewirkt das Zustandekommen seiner Form or Il messaggio cifrato di questa scrittura determina la struttura della sua forma (The Encrypted Message of the Writing Determines the Structure of Its Form, 1999–2000), the graphic clarity of the letters, similar to the writing at the Peter Merian Haus, becomes a game whose key is the precision with which the text unravels along the constructed supporting structure. The letters L (left) and R (right) in the English version − L (links) and R (rechts) in German − are the corners for a change of direction. The straightforwardness of the message does not mean that there isn’t a certain level of deciphering to be done. In this case, the reading (that is, the visual aspect) of the message is fully understandable if it is translated into movement. Some deciphering is to be considered necessary between the straightforwardness of the message, its self-evidence (bordering on tautology), its content adhering to the given conditions (the “here and now”) and actual understanding. From this point of view, for Kowanz, the work is evident but still needs to be mastered since it is based on a message which is, by its very nature, an encoding of immediateness.
The ways the artist has encoded/translated messages have become a distinguishing feature of her work. One is based on the union of two basic systems of our communication and thinking, numeric and alphabetic. The other is based on the formal adoption of two components of Morse code, the dot and the dash (a solution which has been used in many installations with an architectural/environmental character located in spaces of transit). Even if the message (see Sterzing and Basel) does not need any specific deciphering, there is still a “dual” condition: turning the letters around (ORT WEG); reading forwards/backwards or from the topdown or bottom-up (Light Is What We See). In all of these cases, the message is made up of objective, neutral elements which are derived from the alphanumerical system, from the formal encoding of Morse code or the communicative efficiency of the graphic layout. However, in the works from 2004/05 onwards − Another Time Another Place particularly comes to mind − Kowanz has introduced a further element into the way she composes her luminous texts. This is individual handwriting, not limiting its use to works produced solely in the studio, but introducing it as a central element in complex installations in the architectural space. This is a significant development, and should probably be given consideration in its own right. Here we must limit ourselves to considering how this element can be understood in two ways: first as an approach which is significantly individual in terms of the message, almost as if Kowanz tended to balance the asceticism of the communicative form by giving attention to more subjective conditions (also in formal terms); second as a complex path within the written form based on a comparison with other, non-Western, approaches to writing. An early sign of this direction can be seen in a work of great emotional intensity, Vergessen (Forgotten, 2001). The writing was made with Hebrew characters, which have a much more fluid appearance, curving and rounded, unlike Western fonts or the minimalist formality of dots and dashes. Another element seems to come from the artist’s contact with the Arab world. In an interview with Christian Reder, Kowanz made a brief but insightful reference to calligraphy as a non-Western art form which could, as such, aspire to a “vielschichtige Universalisierung” (multilayered universalization) as much as a “Zusammenspiel von Codes” (interplay of codes).1) Of course, it is wellknown that Arabic calligraphy has a spatial value and it is used as the only possible form of decoration on buildings. The use of handwriting by Kowanz is a reflection on the very meaning of individual writing as a formal element that can hold together the abstract communicative aspect of the message with the living act of calligraphy.
In the large installation created for the Max Planck Institute for Molecular Biomedicine in Münster (2006), these aspects seem to find a remarkable solution through a tubular structure in neon (“Lichtlisene”), 26 millimeters in diameter and a total of 120 meters long. The handwritten phrase “In Vivo – In Vitro”, which gives the work its title, is displayed in a mirrored glass case that, thanks to the way it is made, creates a virtually infinite space. The writing represents the momentary crystallization, in the legibility/illegibility of individual handwriting, of the unpredictable path of the extremely long luminous line which unravels, completely free and at different heights, through the architectural space between the two entrances to the building (from the street and from the parking lot). The unpredictability of the spatial movement and the handwriting become two elements which seem to be generated by one another and which seem to continue within one another, almost as if the luminous movement of the tubular structure, a pure gesture in space, sought a written form capable of encoding its meaning. On the other hand, it seems to be the writing itself which extends out through the entire architectural space, handwriting that can no longer be contained. Kowanz’s artwork here seems to seek to question the context, contradicting the coldness and geometry of the high-tech structural components, transforming the glass surfaces into virtual spaces which vertiginously widen the curves of the luminous swirls. In actual fact, the work seeks a more profound way of adhering to the given context precisely because it does not follow the structure but seems to contradict it, seeking to express the uncontainable nature of life − and this could only be done by using the individuality of oversized handwriting. Thus the artwork becomes a paradoxical and luminous connecting element between the architectural image of a scientific laboratory that uses glass as the perfect aseptic container and life which molds another unpredictable, uncontainable form from the same material. Adherence to a context such as this is thus achieved not just by creating a line which relates the entrance and exits of the building, but also, more subtly, by expressing what is hidden inside the building; that is, that unconscious dimension which emerges in the vitality, informality and illegibility of a path of light which is no longer merely functional. A deep space of connection which, through the points of contact with its given context and its adherence to the building, never ceases to explore a further dimension.
1) Christian Reder, „Es geht um Fragen der Optimierung. Brigitte Kowanz im Gespräch mit Christian Reder“ (A Question of Optimization: Brigitte Kowanz in Conversation with Christian Reder), in Lesebuch Projekte – Vorgriffe, Ausbrüche in die Ferne (Primer Projects – Advances, Outbreaks on the Horizon), ed. Christian Reder (Vienna/New York: Springer [Edition Transfer], 2006), 99–112.
In: Museum Moderner Kunst Stiftung Ludwig Wien (Hg.), Brigitte Kowanz. Now I See (Ausst.kat.), Verlag für moderne Kunst Nürnberg, 2010, S. 226-233.