Mariele Neudecker, Otto Dix and Paul Klee
Every one of us knows it. At some point, you find yourself in a very special landscape, in the Alps, by the sea, in the steppe, in a valley, or, as Mariele Neudecker once did, in the Arctic. And you want to see what you see, the breathtaking panorama, the comforting closeness of a forest, the endless expanse of the sea, the steppe, or that of the polar night as a whole, to keep it in your memory, even to assimilate it. But this is simply not possible. Because, as Neudecker writes, “…somehow the sockets of my eyes suddenly seem to be too small, close, too tight and deep…Needless to say: my camera lens frames and crops, everything way too small and too tightly.” And no pair of eyes, no matter how complex, can fully grasp that which once touched our innermost being.