• What You Are Looking for Is Not There

    Date posted: January 4, 2008 Author: jolanta
    There are no great
    gestures, no posing, no breaching of taboos, no reference to current
    topics. His images of alienation from reality exist outside of time.
    They portray mortality and losing one’s grip on reality in pictures
    that are unspectacular. Pictures in which what the beam of a pocket
    flashlight makes fleetingly visible only that what you are looking for
    is not there. Marcel Gähler, born in 1969, only ever suggests. He
    allows flashes of light to break through the darkness and an even
    deeper darkness to emerge from the impenetrable blackness of the night.
    Image

    Sylvia Rüttimann on Marcel Gähler

    Image

    Marcel Gähler, Untitled, 2007; graphite on paper. Courtesy Gallery Roemerapotheke

    There are no great gestures, no posing, no breaching of taboos,
    no reference to current topics. His images of alienation from reality
    exist outside of time. They portray mortality and losing one’s grip on
    reality in pictures that are unspectacular. Pictures in which what the
    beam of a pocket flashlight makes fleetingly visible only that what you
    are looking for is not there. Marcel Gähler, born in 1969, only ever
    suggests. He allows flashes of light to break through the darkness and
    an even deeper darkness to emerge from the impenetrable blackness of
    the night. Here too, the uncanny derives not from hints of past crimes
    or lurking monsters. His painting drives us toward the limits of our
    perception. It makes it disconcertingly clear that seeing nothing does
    not imply that nothing is there. Gähler understands how to create a
    vacuum and then punctuate it with shafts of seeing.

    When Marcel
    Gähler’s camera flashes in the darkness of night, his photograph
    captures a world asleep. His are views of familiar but forgotten
    places, often in rain or snow. It might be an allotment with shriveled,
    overgrown vegetable foliage, a trace of last summer amid remains of an
    improvised greenhouse, the front wall of a house behind a garden shrub,
    or a tree-top pointing skywards. Gähler bases oil paintings,
    watercolors and spectacularly detailed pencil drawings on these
    photographs. The real content of the photograph is highlighted by this
    transposition. What a superficial glance might previously have missed
    now emerges, subtly reinforced, in his pictures.   

    These are
    images that lie at the interface between casual snapshot and meaningful
    allusion. Thus they create a motif-like state of suspense, open to free
    interpretation. They recall lost memories, summon up dream sequences.
    The ongoing daily loss of universe comes into view, captured on paper.

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