Interview with Michael Sailstorfer &
Thomas Kratz

HAUT KONTAKT // 27th April – 15th Mai 2022

A basement that smells of gasoline, and a huge, dark mask whose breathing creeps into every corner. We’re on the premises of SMAC, where Michael Sailstorfer and Thomas Kratz are showing their exhibition.

Sailstorfer and Kratz are connected not only by their studies at the Academy of Fine Arts in Munich, but also by a longtime friendship. Both artists are fascinated by the idea of a membrane, a protective surface that separates the inside from the outside. Haut Kontakt is the first exhibition by Michael Sailstorfer and Thomas Kratz in which they present their work in a joint symbiosis.

It's not exactly a perfect barrier; it can be porous and vulnerable, and its imperfection is what makes it so compelling.

In his work, Michael Sailstorfer challenges and expands the very concept of sculpture.He breathes new life into inanimate objects by manipulating their natural environments. He plays with the idea of nature as an unknown force that causes unexpected transformations of his artworks over time.

 Thomas Kratz's series of nudes (human skin tones painted on the front and back of glass by a wide range of paint manufacturers) revolves around skin and its deeper meaning as a surface, as well as the change of the conceptualization of skin over time. His interaction with the work and deep immersion of the subject allows him to merge with his references, which travel all the way back to the Renaissance.

We talked with the two artists in the spring sunshine of the SMAC courtyard.

SMAC: Thomas, when do you know that a work is finished?

Thomas Kratz: (Laughing) That's always a big question. I once had a series called "Smiley." In that, I knew the picture was finished when something in it laughed back at me. (Laughing) Some people didn't see any laughter at all, but as a painter, you can sense when something suddenly jumps out from the canvas. At the same time, I also believe that a painting is finished when it remains somewhat mysterious, when it doesn’t allow you to fully unlock all of its complexities.

Does it bother you when people can't quite see the laughter?

TK: No, not at all. It’s more like genetic programming, or a basic trust in the art that determines what you see. But of course, as varied as that can be, there are just as many similarities. The precise sign, that's important.

Michael, your masks are created from inanimate objects, for example a dismantled car fuel tank. Yet you can hear it breathe. Do you want to breathe life into inanimate objects, and is that where the idea of appealing to different senses comes from? Does smelling and hearing artworks make them more alive?

Michael Sailstorfer: Yes, that's totally true. It gives new life to things that are inanimate or had a different function before. It tells new stories. I deliberately chose to use a tank because it's a vessel for energetic fuel. I found it interesting to see the tank filled with something new, something very essential to life: breath. It gives it a new character, fills the space and asserts its presence.

You also work with smells.

MS: Yes, smell is also present in the exhibition. It still smells like gasoline, which works great in the basement. Of course, it does something to the space, maybe it triggers claustrophobic sensations. At the moment I'm working on a fragrance. It's part of the "Tears" series and will be called "Tears on Asphalt". Here, the feeling of sadness is expressed through the perfume and then dissolved again, so that something beautiful actually emerges.

How can a smell be sad?

MS: It developed from the “Tears” series, which is about sadness, after all. A bitter tar-like note, the scent of asphalt. That's the heart note. But then there's something green and fresh on top of that. It's bitter and beautiful at the same time.

What else inspires your work? Is it predominantly personal experiences or do you respond to external circumstances, such as social and political events?

TK: The 'Today' is very political, especially during war you always have the feeling that you are playing with a kind of decadence if you take the freedom, the time and the space to look for answers in your own studio.

Who can go to Moscow now and go up to Putin and give him a big hug? Probably only an artist. Art is always political in its own way.

MS: I don't think you can separate it. It's like a kind of membrane. There's an interior, and there's an exterior. You respond to things that are happening around you: Politics, conflicts, current events. And then that merges with the personal, interior part of the work.

Michael, your work is also often in harmony with nature. In the exhibition we see apples that shoot electrical charges back and forth between themselves.

MS: Yes, apples are of course a symbol of nature, the most primal kind of nature, even.

Love?

MS: Yes, love. Temptation.

You could call nature your co-creator, for one thing. For example, you made masks in a beehive and then left the bees to the natural process of making honey. Does art also have something to do with letting go?

MS: Always. It's always a letting go. And then things can come into being.

It's similar with works that gradually wear out over the course of the exhibition. Do you anticipate what will happen to the works or are you usually in for a surprise?

MS: Absolutely, there are often results that I didn't expect.

What does a working process like that look like for you? Do you jot down ideas in words or are they sketches? How does it go from there?

MS: I never write anything down in words. For me it's always a relatively clear picture and then the sketch emerges from that. It takes time before I finally know how it works. It's often simplified and abstracted later on. And then it's brought into being.

TK: I try to write down notes, sometimes dictate them, but unfortunately that really doesn't work. For me, often things emerge only in the studio, once I'm working on them. That can also be a painful thing, having to scrap ideas that are distracting me.

Michael, you share a studio with collaborators. Thomas, you also collaborate with others for various projects. Are you able to communicate your ideas well to the outside world before a work is created?

MS: I feel like it works well, it feels natural.

TK: Yes, as Michael says, you can often identify what's superfluous or how it can be simplified. It's good to have that kind of feedback, to have someone who can pass the ball back to you. I feel a bit lonely in my studio sometimes, so it's nice to have someone like Michael keeping you on your toes a bit.

 MS: Yes, I do enjoy that a lot, not being alone.

How important is the interaction of viewers with your artworks to you? And does the outside gaze change your work or even become part of a work?

MS: I have thought about this a lot.

 TK: Yes, the viewer is always there. I've also done a lot of performance, and with performance, of course, you feel the audience. It's different from meeting the audience for a conversation. And then certain moments stay with you for the next work of art: a palpable resistance, that's the most interesting thing about this work.

And do you think about the exhibition space as well?

MS: Each of my exhibitions is site-specific. We developed the concept for this site. It's always a fusion of the things you're working on at the moment and the exhibition situation.

TK: Yes, it's the same with me. We use space and spectators to create something unique.

Your exhibition is called Skin Contact and the skin stands as a symbolic surface between the world and oneself. What is protected here, what should not permeate outside?

TK: The skin is the window to the world, but also a vulnerable surface. I find this boundary between inside and outside fascinating. In painting, it's always the artist who paints the skin. For example, in the Renaissance, when students were making paintings, the master would always come in at the end to add the skin. We both work with surfaces and borderline situations.

MS: Yes, it's about the membrane that's in between, the permeable membrane that is sometimes harder and sometimes softer. My mask works are also a barrier between inside and outside, a reflection on what one hides from the outside world.

The skin and nudity in your work raise questions about what is private. What do you reveal about yourself through your work, Thomas?

TK: When you work on a subject for a long time, you always expose something. Even more so in the studio, when you let something emerge. I don't take anything for granted. Quite the opposite.

Your skin paintings conform to a "white" perception of skin. How do you define the concept of skin color?

TK: When I started with the subject, it was more about vulnerability and eroticism. Now it's become much more political. The shades of paint are sort of "ready-made" tones from different manufacturers, but they no longer market the paint as "skin tone". That is, the legibility of the artwork is changing over time, because society is changing. It inspires new themes and conversations. 

But what is the dialogue between your two artworks?

TK: We have known and appreciated each other's work for a very long time. 

MS: Yes, we have known each other for 20 years. We both studied in Munich. Most of the works I have at home are by Thomas. There are many parallels that you can see and feel.

TK: I think there's almost something playful about it. I like the idea that you go home and the artworks have a conversation. It works well, they have a lot to talk about.

Thomas, do you collect work by Michael as well?

TK: Yes! I have a large ceiling work in the living room and Michael gave my son a beautiful turquoise work that is also in the living room.

MS: That's right, to celebrate his birth.

Do your teachers from your student days influence your current work? 
For you Michael, maybe Olaf Metzel, or for you Thomas, Günther Förg?

MS: I was just talking to someone yesterday about Olaf Metzel and said that he had an incredible impact on me. It is all about the energy of things. If someone wanted to explain their work too much in meetings, he would say: First, sculpt and let it stand on its own. It should be allowed to speak for itself, and then we'll talk about it. I also got to know and appreciate Förg.

 TK: I agree with Michael, it's similar for me. The extreme in situations was also very important, between making art, then reviewing the work. Taking the art seriously, but not taking yourself too seriously.
Funnily enough, Olaf Metzel and Günther Förg have been good friends!

Interview: Olga Potschernina
Fotos: Sophie Döring