From space to action

Approaching Juliane Laitzsch’s Oeuvre
By Marion Thielebein

Can one dance with the space? Yes, precisely; not in the space, which could obviously be answered in the affirmative, but with the space? Whoever asks such a question automatically perceives space as a “dialogue partner” and not just a “container.” There are choreographers in modern dance who use the body and its actions as a means of allowing the spatial situation to be perceived as an integral part of the dance. The poetic attention is thus transferred to the space. It is also possible to deal with space in a similar manner in fine art. In her installations Juliane Laitzsch asks “Where does something begin and where does it end” and draws attention to environments and localities. References are created with ornamental patterns, so that lines are established – similar to how the steps of a dancer are also lines – which emphasise transitions and threshold situations. They are actually responsible for allowing fullness, intensity and distinctiveness to emerge.

“To give an object poetic space is to give it more space than it can objectively occupy, or, in other words, to follow the expansion of its interior space.” This also applies specifically to the space itself. According to Gaston Bachelard (1), as soon as it assumes a value, it gets bigger. It becomes obvious what that means when one thinks about how our everyday life is dominated by faceless, functional and often cold spaces, to which we generally pay no attention. What Siegfried Kracauer(2) observed back in 1929 about the connection between spaces and the typical social relationships they express is even more relevant today: ”Every typical space is created by typical social relationships, which are expressed in it without the disturbing intervention of consciousness. Everything which is rejected by consciousness, everything which is momentarily overlooked, contributes to its composition. Spatial images are the dreams of society. Where ever a hieroglyph decodes some spatial image, it presents the reason for social reality.” These observations are indispensable for Juliane Laitzsch. For the artistic space in Hüll (3) she approaches the village of Hüll (district of Stade) with the question “What do you like most about Hüll?” and receives the answer “the village community” and “the countryside.” Subsequently, the ornamental drawings investigate how the structures of the village community developed historically and sociologically, and the transitions between culture and nature.

Only in this space does a very mature, individual structure intentionally emerge. The standardised functions we routinely perform in a type of container world show us just how important such attention is to this kind of “spatial pattern.” “The container is,” according to Hannes Böhringer, (4) “a receptacle for every thing possible. It unloads what it contains. When it is empty it is filled up again with something else. The shape of the container therefore no longer depends on its contents. Instead, it complies with standard storage measurements and is compatible with different forms of transport. The external, the vehicle that transports it, and the place in which it is stored, are just as irrelevant to the container as its contents. […] the container is a temporary arrangement. It stores something temporarily and momentarily, it is stored somewhere temporarily and momentarily, always ready to be removed and apparently ready to be replaced by something definite. However, the temporary arrangement persists. And where ever it is stored, it acts like a magnet of indifference. It influences freight and environment.” If one attempts to decode the hieroglyph of the container according to Hannes Böhringer, one gets a nihilistic social reality. “Container signifies numerous receptacles, constantly transferring, distributing and circulated the contents, so that the rubbish and the emptiness remain tolerable.”

The tissue patterns and enmeshments with which Juliane Laitzsch forms her Models of Patterned Space make spaces individual and introduce us to their uniqueness, their inimitable life. Even though a type of appropriation is inherent in her ornamental patterns, it is one that remains open and evades all forms of domination and functionality. The drawings arouse our curiosity and enchant us, making us pay more attention to things as well as drawing us into the depths of our own fantasies. Walter Benjamin describes this space as follows: “In ancient Greece one pointed to the places that led down into the underworld. In our own conscious existence there are also hidden places that lead down into the underworld, full of inconspicuous locations into which our dreams drift.”(5) Perhaps if we investigate such ornamentally interwoven spaces, they may also create similar transit points in the realm of dreams and our own unknown spaces.





(1) Gaston Bachelard: Poetik des Raums. Frankfurt/M., Berlin, Wien, 1975.
(2) Siegfried Krakauer: „Über Arbeitsnachweise. Konstruktionen eines Raumes“, in: Ders., Schriften, Bd. 5: Aufsätze 1927-1931 (hrsg. V. Inka Mülder-Bach), Frankfurt/M. 1990, 185ff.
(3) Juliane Laitzsch: Gewebemuster. Ausstellungskatalog Kunstraum Hüll 21.01.-06.02.2005.
(4) Hannes Böhringer: Orgel und Container. Berlin: Merve, 1993, 11 und 19.
(5) Walter Benjamin: Gesammelte Schriften. Hrsg. V. Rolf Tiedemann und Hermann Schweppenhäuser, Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp, 1985, Bd. V/2 , 1046.