Streichelzoo (‘strAIkel,zu:) means "petting zoo" in German, an apt label for a showcase of the quirky cast of creatures about to enter Carmichael Gallery. The artwork in the show embraces a brand new phase in Herakut’s artistic evolution, as they continue to take risks and blend their signature styles into one unique, refreshing urban voice. "We have started to create little Frankenstein creatures," says Hera of their masterfully offbeat character paintings, which consist of two essential ingredients: Akut’s painstaking photorealism and her own raw, nimble brushstrokes. "We usually combine these two elements in a freestyle way, and do it right at the wall, right in the gallery." | ![]() |
Streichelzoo was on view at Carmichael Gallery in West Hollywood in May.
Herakut. Courtesy of Carmichael Gallery.
The Carmichael Gallery of Contemporary Art presented Streichelzoo, a solo exhibition featuring the artwork of German street art duo Herakut recently. The occasion marks Herakut’s first solo show in the United States. Artwork featured includes a combination of spray paint with charcoal, watercolors, and other paints on a variety of media, including wood, canvas, and paper. The gallery has been transformed into a work of art in itself, as Hera and Akut run wild and create a large-scale installation in the space.
Streichelzoo (‘strAIkel,zu:) means "petting zoo" in German, an apt label for a showcase of the quirky cast of creatures about to enter Carmichael Gallery. The artwork in the show embraces a brand new phase in Herakut’s artistic evolution, as they continue to take risks and blend their signature styles into one unique, refreshing urban voice. "We have started to create little Frankenstein creatures," says Hera of their masterfully offbeat character paintings, which consist of two essential ingredients: Akut’s painstaking photorealism and her own raw, nimble brushstrokes. "We usually combine these two elements in a freestyle way, and do it right at the wall, right in the gallery."
Ideas flow organically in this manner; nothing can be predicted when Herakut enter an empty space, armed with spray cans, brushes, and body parts ranging from arms and legs to dog heads sprayed on canvas. There is no telling what will come out of this pile of limbs in the end. The fluidity of their inspired unions of ill-fitting extremities is impressive—heavy muscular arms protrude comfortably from the torsos of slender, sensual girls. Having contributed so much to each and every one of their pieces, "we feel like Mommy and Daddy to all of these little odd and ugly kids," they proclaim.
Herakut follow a rather idiosyncratic process of creating their artworks, communicating only intermittently in a private dialogue until they collectively feel they have contributed all they possibly can to the wall or canvas. Their process of shift work—Akut will paint a head in one area while Hera creates a background or begins a body—allows for both autonomy and synchronization. The artists draw upon their understanding of the balance between compromise and individuality, learned as members of larger graffiti crews, to overcome potential conflicts of opinion in this precarious form of painting."I think for people, and especially for artists, it’s a great way of therapy," muses Hera. "We tend to be self-centered control-freaks, don’t we?" Conceptually, Herakut’s work has followed a trajectory that echoes their own relationship, as they approach their fourth year working together and persist in exploring novel modes of expression. The artists flavor their pieces with natural, earthy tones, professing an affinity with these hues that makes them feel safe and empowered. Generally avoiding political themes in their work, Herakut prefer to paint what they genuinely know and feel. Dogs frequently recur in their pieces, often with sly grins painted on their faces. To quote Akut’s analogy as to why they do so, "Street artists are dogs. They leave their shit everywhere."