I take material.
I give shape.
The other night I hang out at a party and met Torsten, the stonemason. The last time I had seen him was when he had come around to deliver some stones for our garden. He had brought that tiny little clumsy Saint Bernard puppy, in his huge arms it looked so small, so fragile. When at that party I told him about my affection for stone as a high school student, maybe being the initial reason for my later studies of art, he looked at me and said: »You are a liar. Nobody who gets close to work with stone would ever quit again.« He is such a stone fanatic! It took me quite a while to understand his harsh contradiction. To work with stone is to follow an ancient melody. It is the song about the deep wisdom of the earth. Pure, clear, never ending. I have heard its tunes, seen its sadness and its beauty, too. Nevertheless, I have moved on and left behind stone.
I had that vision of sharing food as a sculptural event.
I thought I would work on a sculptural banquet.
Having sculptures in the show you could eat.
I took butter, added some color. All natural.
I took salt and made little heaps in yellow, red and green.
And I baked rolls in different colors, piled them to little columns.
A slice of dark brown bread with yellow butter and red salt.
A slice of red bread with dark brown butter and green salt.
A slice of yellow bread with pink butter and yellow salt.
(The children loved the dark chocolate butter with the pink bread...)
Footsteps in the fresh green of the grass
An early bird in the forest of spring
Dark columns supporting the sky
Speckled with light in the grey
Creeping cold in toes knees legs
A soft breath of wind in the neck
Weak fists with clammy fingers
I was mistaken
There is no lake
No tearing river
There is no other side
No later on
There is only that line
And the line has two directions
Both are endless
In and out
Up and down
Two in One
The silence of the night
Left over in the dewdrops
Reflections of the shade of stars
There is no fear at the very edge of the universe
Fifty lashes ink on paper.
The dignity of men is unimpeachable.
The topic of the festival unmarked_space 2015 was Gilgamesh and I was extremely greatful to discover this epic. The German translation by Raoul Schrott is an amazing source of images and inspiration - and keeps a wonderful sense of humor. And besides this I got a vague idea of the complex history of Mesopotamia. Iraq, Lebanon, Iran. Places in nowadays breaking news on war and terror on and on.
The Last Dance
I remember the moment we were working on this performing sculpture. I had a whole group of actors on my set, it had been a long and hot day out there. Then we were called for dinner and people started to move back to our base. The two wonderful dancers Swanhild and Silja remained and I asked them for one last dance. It was just the two of them and me - and that sudden silence of the moment...
My first name is Anna and it's me on the left. I remember reading a book as a child called Anna annA.
It was about a girl who made a photocopy of herself, reproducing herself again so to say. I was so fascinated by that idea. In a way art can be that sort of copying machine. It is like facing a mirror. You discover yourself in the image opposite.
My partner here is called Anna, too.
There was a child watching us. Mom, it said, are they doing yoga ON the water?
Walking the Line
There you see us in action... or not quite!
It is such a pleasure to work together with children, students or any grown-up group, too. For me there is no difference, since every human being has an immense potential of creativity. Any opportunity for me to give a workshop, course or seminary is a chance to create a new experience of art.
I am very happy to introduce you to the most patient and adorable assistant: my son Nelson. He asked me to add a picture of him to my website, since he was part of my projects almost all the time. Lukas, my photographer took this picture while we were testing some effects for the next performance.