Chi dorme non pecca
In her second solo exhibition at Efremidis, Hannah Sophie Dunkelberg (*1987, Bonn) brings together wooden horses, a new set of reflective flower reliefs and couches that have been reupholstered quilt-like with bougie-psychedelic fabrics.
The horses were placed on the couches. The horses’ bodies are covered with hasty brushstrokes and thin paint runs over their roughly carved surface. In the mouth of one of the horses is a white plastic lily, its wooden base rests on a used brush. The underside of the hooves is still dirty and shows evidence of the places where they used to cause trouble. Instead of frolicking in public space, they are recovering from their previous activities. These studs have been through a lot.
Was the brush used by the horses to swiftly draw the flowers before sleep caught up with them? Does the horse carry a lily in its mouth because it is in mourning or did
it want to decorate this imagined scene? These thoughts don’t seem to bother their sleep. They’re shaking off ancient expectations of others, liberated from the pressure to be monumental and are resting quietly in the depths of domestic bliss. The symbols were put to sleep. They are mere remnants surrounded by semantic overstimulation, in which they function as an invitation to follow the urge of associative thoughts and satisfyingly dissolve all symbolism.
An attempt that is doomed to fail beautifully: the gestures ultimately elude the attribution of meaning through their sheer endlessness and high in the skies, a radiant garden blooms; full of roses, weeds and herbs.
