Emotional Scarecrows And Soft Soils

There is a scarecrow in the room. It guards and observes the room. It’s a being made by humans, working around the clock, withstanding the weather, wearing out and standing still. The room that usually asserts itself through its hard walls and floor, becomes soft and warm from the carpet and the curtains. It’s as if the room wants to protect what’s in it. The rug can only be stepped on with socks, whoever wants to enter, must take off their shoes. There is always a certain intimacy in taking off one’s shoes. A personal moment that is almost awkward. One needs to trust a place to take off the shoes.

Small coupling-objects are scattered around the scarecrow. They are things from a world experienced by humans, things close to the body: a key, a toothbrush, chewing gum, spoons, bread, coins, a comb and other things that go through the hands or bodies of humans. They are objects that are being worn out further everyday. They seem like small, unassuming ciphers, that yet appear in essential moments of daily life. They are objects that attach themselves to our bodies, that adopt us and help us, make life easier for us. In a certain way they care about us but don’t receive care in return.
Most of these objects are bound to one ore more seeds by a thin white thread. They’re pewter casts of seeds, silvery and heavy, like small and refined bullets. The thread is made of a fiber that is extracted from old milk. Milk, often being the first nourishment for humans and other mammals, is a kind of super-careworker, produced by mothers who themselves are often doing a lot of carework. Bound together, the seeds and objects promise the growth of care. The seeds give the objects the potential to grow big and stay. The scarecrow and the seeds turn the carpet into a field – again an object of care in agriculture. The natural careworkers of the field – sun, wind, rain, insects, birds – become present in the endless sound work by Gregor Kieseritzky.

Text: Kunstverein Lüneburg