Common Ground

Aram Bartholl’s Greenscreen in the Georgengarten invites visitors and those just out for a walk to take part in a photo shoot. Planes of reality intersect between the green of the parkland and the green of the screen – figure and background, object and image, analogue and digital – and likewise private and public spaces. The use of chroma key is now ubiquitous in both the film industry and photography, providing infinite opportunities for different backgrounds. Formerly popular subjects such as flower meadows, trees or park sculptures are both literally and metaphorically obscured through Bartholl’s intervention. The immediate surroundings are only one of many possible subjects for photography here: dissolving, as it were, into a world of digital multi-optionality – whereas the oversized infinity cove is conspicuous with its strange analogue material form and bulk.

Interview Aram Bartholl mit Kristina Tieke

KT: You are interested in public space and how it is changing as a result of digitalization. You have placed a monumental green screen on a lawn in Georgengarten, in front of which passersby can pose as if they were copying themselves into a backdrop. Isn't the park already a backdrop? What connection is there between the historical setting and the current living environment?

AB: The work Common Ground naturally addresses the issue of how much we stage ourselves in everyday life. With its romantic ruins and artificially created idyllic corners, the park is already a grand staging. And the green screen, formerly exclusively a tool of the film industry, has long since arrived in pop culture. It functions as a projection surface for the many realities in which we move. The projection screen for our desires and dreams is in good hands in this dreamlike garden.

KT: If we prefer to reflect ourselves, there is a danger that we will no longer perceive the beauty of the world around us because we live with projections. Does digital staging obscure our view of reality?

AB: I don't play the digital and analog worlds off against each other. We're kidding ourselves if we separate the beautiful natural world from the digital stuff. Untouched nature no longer exists. Nature is over. Global warming is looming. All of this is reality. The green screen in nature is a wink. It's like a tree, a natural object, if you will.

When you think about the dangers posed by social media platforms and their staged reality, it's more about the fact that only a handful of large companies own our data. The problem is the threat to our privacy. I urge us to think about how we want to live with these services. Digital communication is changing society and politics. Should a president be allowed to tweet at all? Does it make sense?

KT: Common Ground also reminds us of our dependence on the media. Because when the internet goes down, when Wi-Fi doesn't work, what remains? A green canvas in a green park. A beautiful image. In this way, you reflect on both the power and the possibilities of visual art. Am I right?

AB: Yes, art has a powerful impact. Images work in a world fixated on images. However, I am currently discussing with friends how strongly the visual arts can change society and be a driving force. There are pressing problems that require concrete action. When will the moment come when we actually have to do more than show works in an exhibition to stimulate thought? Like the Fridays for Future movement of the young generation, which is committed to change. It's great to see.

KT: You studied architecture before deciding to pursue the visual arts. You continue to be interested in public space. At the Skulptur Projekte Münster 2017, you installed chandeliers in an underpass, whose LED light is powered by electricity generated by the heat of candles. The inhospitable concrete architecture was transformed into a place of refuge. What role does this kind of neo-romantic aesthetic play for you? Is the term neo-romanticism even appropriate?

AB: Yes, you can use that term. The work was created specifically for a location in a tunnel of modernity that is actually no longer in use. It is a terrible space from a time that was completely dominated by the “will of the car,” by road traffic. Today, we understand that urban planning doesn't work that way. But the tunnel leads to a castle that evokes the idea of romanticism. And in that sense, as you say, it's almost a place of refuge. The work combines contradictions.

At the same time, it can also be interpreted dystopically. What is it like when there is no more electricity? How do we cope then? The problem can be observed in Venezuela, where power is failing in many places and no one can say for sure whether it is a cyberattack or not. These are the questions that are on the table today. The work contains all these images.

KT: Another project in Münster consisted of a campfire where people could charge their smartphones using the thermoelectric effect. Another clever scenario for times of crisis. Are humans survivalists, prepared for a dystopian world?

AB: Humans are definitely survivalists. Yes. But how well we are prepared will only become apparent when something suddenly happens. We are talking here from a fairly privileged position—even within Europe, in Germany. But a lot will change in the coming decades. I believe that in political discussions, it is important to keep reminding ourselves that much of what we consider fundamentally valid or irrefutable is at risk. I think about that... when I hold my cell phone in my hand. The device that we constantly have to recharge and without which we feel we can no longer live.