SMAC visited Lukas Glinkowski and Stefan Hirsig in their studios. A conversation about art, politics and the subtle influences of the world we live in.

SMAC: This is your studio? 

Lukas Glinkowski: My second home, as I like to call it.

Did you already know each other before the exhibition at SMAC, or was that your first encounter?

LG: We've known each other for about four or five years. You often get to know each other at openings, over a drink. Stefan is no exception. I've known his art for even longer. One day I met him in the Babette bar and had the courage to go up to him and say: "Hey Stefan, I think you're a really great artist." And you thought that was really nice too, Stefan, didn't you? At least you said that hardly anyone says something like that these days. I can't understand why people are so sparing with praise.

Stefan Hirsig: We got to know each other better and a friendship developed between us when I saw one of Lukas' paintings at an exhibition. I was so impressed that I suggested to Lukas that we swap pictures. Lukas responded in a very friendly but somewhat reserved manner. That unsettled me and I thought we would discuss it again elsewhere. One day, Peter Ungeheuer, who curates us here at SMAC, called me and said: "You, I need this picture by Lukas for an exhibition. That's your picture, you have to lend it to me." And I said: "Why my picture, what makes you think that?" And Peter said: "Why, you swapped it with Lukas." So Lukas had immediately logged the swap offer. I was delighted about that. (They both laugh).

Lukas, what fascinates you about Stefan's work? 

LG: The use of color. The mixed image of the concrete and the abstract is something he does with real virtuosity.

Do you see parallels to your own oeuvre?

LG: Not at all (laughs), lots of colors maybe. I take a completely different approach. During and after my studies at the Düsseldorf Art Academy, I tried everything from children's drawings to photorealism. But after I arrived in Berlin, I suddenly found everything boring, especially painting on canvas. In Katharina Grosse's class, where I studied, we were always encouraged to look left and right. After six years in Düsseldorf, I moved back to Berlin and looked at the city with completely different eyes, graffiti all over it. I slowly developed an interest in graffiti. A friend of mine was a professional graffiti artist at the time and introduced me to this world. 

That means that you didn't come from the graffiti scene to the art school, but rather the other way around? From the university to the streets? That's a rather unusual path.

LG: I didn't know that before. The thrill of being caught or even committing vandalism. It would actually hurt my heart to spray paint someone else's house, car or anything else. So I thought: just commit vandalism on your own work. In the studio. Then you don't have to be afraid of the police. (laughs).  

“So I thought: just commit vandalism on your own work. In the studio.”

Of course, this reduces graffiti to the formal-aesthetic aspect and ignores the entire political dimension of "taking back the city". This idea is based on the fact that most people are excluded from participating in the design of public space due to the unequal distribution of capital. This opportunity is usually reserved for a few investors, architects, urbanists and real estate owners. Does your work have a socio-political dimension? 

LG: I don't like being political. I also don't like to criticize and I don't like to point the finger at problems. If at all, then subtly or with "Lukas humor".

90% of the things you see on the street are graffiti, a simple occupation of space, often just names or "gang names". Yet the basic idea of graffiti is great: simply getting the message directly onto the street. Inspired by this, I began to transfer texts from music, film and the Internet onto canvas and then later onto other materials such as tiles and mirrors. I usually work in series. One of my latest series consists of twenty works on the subject of food and cooking - also a great passion of mine. I follow a lot of channels on Instagram with different themes. Various doctors, chefs, naturopaths who suggest: "don't-eat-this-don't-eat-that-and-that". It makes you a bit paranoid. Cancer is what I always thought.

I found the idea of acting like an Instagram guru, expert or coach who gives advice on how to live a healthy and better life funny. I quickly integrated my passion for cooking into my art. In one picture, I explain how to cook healthy food, for example a vegetable broth. On the other hand, I also express in a slightly critical way which foods are better avoided as they are unhealthy and could most likely shorten your life or at least increase your susceptibility to illness. My smartphone is another tool in my toolbox for this. I love taking photos of everything that catches my eye on a daily basis. So it was logical for me to integrate photography into my art. So for the "food series", I went on a photo safari to countless supermarkets, kebab stands and snack bars and systematically photographed food and dishes. It was great fun.

The vegetable broth work you described and two of your works at SMAC are on Aludibond. How did you come across this material? 

LG: Once again, I found inspiration in the urban space. I went out of the club toilet - with its graffiti walls - onto the street and saw advertising signs. They immediately sparked my interest. I walked up and down the entire Sonnenallee, thoroughly examining and investigating all the advertising signs of the kebab stalls. I immediately saw the many advantages of this material: It's lightweight, hard-wearing and you can design it with photos using UV printing. It also looks cool and modern. The reference to graffiti already arises in the digital design, when I combine photos with drawings made on the electronic drawing board. Overpainting is a technique that many artists have used before me. But these additional layer(s) represent the aforementioned vandalism of my own work, which could possibly also function independently. 

And your tile work? 

LG: I also started taking photos in public spaces back then, but in a different way. During research, I photographed subway stations in Berlin, for example the Westhafen station with its Heinrich Heine quotes or the Paulsternstraße subway station. I then recreated sections of the wall surfaces using the same tiles and added my own text and image layers.

Oh nice! A bit like scenery building. 

LG: The inspiration for my very first tile work was a public toilet in Mainz. There I found the Edding graffito of a woman's face, which I liked so much that I decided to reproduce it.After recreating this toilet wall, I thought I had to think further conceptually (I was working exclusively on canvas at the time). I found the spatial idea exciting, the interaction between painting and installation. As a result, I created tile works for the wall as well as large, free-standing, sculpture-like backdrops. In 2017, I had a solo exhibition at Ebertplatz in Cologne. The curator gave me a budget and a free hand. I then thought: "Cool. Why don't you turn the gallery into a toilet?" I tiled the room with post-modern 80s DIY store tiles and built a complete public toilet, with mirrors and washbasins. At the opening, all visitors were allowed to paint the walls. I love the references, the dialogs that arise: Things develop beyond my control, and the viewers of the exhibition suddenly take an active part in my art. This interaction can also be seen in pub toilets, many people react to the "interventions" of others, it takes on a life of its own. A DJ played at the opening, alcohol flowed and the whole thing escalated somewhat. Even the clean gallery toilet, which wasn't actually part of the installation, was smeared and the guests had to be curbed in their artistic zeal (laughs).

I really like the fact that the installation was not limited to the walls, as described by Grosse, but went beyond conventional boundaries. This could even take on political dimensions, or at least be perceived as extremely participatory. To what extent did your experience as a master student of Katharina Grosse have a strong influence on you? (laughs)

LG: I am fascinated by her. By her acumen. Her entire career 

Are there other artists who have strongly influenced you?  

LG: Stefan Hirsig (laughs). Indeed. There are now countless of them. Especially via Instagram. I'm on it from morning to night and zap through it. As a child in the 90s, I used to sit in front of the TV for hours and zap through the channels. Now I can no longer remember all the names. It's the same with music. I listen to music from morning to night, there are so many artists. My brain can't store it all. And then I throw it all in the box. It's also like zapping. That's how my art is created. Every work is different. Over time, it becomes impossible for me to understand where my inspiration for a specific work comes from - they all come from this big box.

The keyword "90s kid" is interesting: you are often compared to the great Michel Majerus or considered in his tradition.  

LG: I think Majerus' work is great. Robert Fleck told me back when I was a student that I should take a look at his work. Fleck was also the one who made Majerus famous. He told me a great anecdote from the time when Michel Majerus still had his studio in an extremely small apartment. Fleck had visited him there to look at his work and Majerus was already painting huge canvas formats back then. He unrolled a canvas and said to Fleck: "Okay, remember this picture." Then he wrapped it up again and unrolled the next one, repeating the process four times, even though they were parts of the same painting. The complete format simply didn't fit on his wall. Even then, I was very impressed by this approach.

What connects you and Majerus is the text that becomes the image and the image that is the text. Where do the words come from?

LG: I am at home in the world of music, movies and the internet. My texts consist mainly of quotations. I now also work a lot with ChatGPT and have longer texts written for me. It works great for me.

What are your latest works, which are now hanging in the SMAC, about?

LG: In terms of content, all my contributions to the current exhibition at SMAC focus on the topic of artificial intelligence. It is a loose series: the works belong together thematically, but the materials are different. The basic concept is a video game for the Playstation 5, set in a dystopian future. One work shows the packaging cover on canvas, which is located to the left of the collaborative work with Stefan. It reads "World War III", which is the title of both the work and the video game. Two alternative backs of the packaging can be seen on aluminum dibond. There you can find the usual elements you would expect: the logo of the distribution company, the game description, the age restriction, but also impressions from the game. This aesthetic has always fascinated me and I really wanted to transfer it into my own work. I am a "game child". In this work, you can see everything that is in the box: Photography, acrylic painting, graffiti elements, text. There are two of these works, namely "Sonja 1" and "Sonja 2", which could possibly be intended as design variants for marketing. The quotes come from Terminator 2, and the games revolve around the battle between human-like robots and humans. The player takes on the role of the cyborg Sonja, and his decisions influence the fate of everyone in the game.

Does artificial intelligence generally play a central role in your work?

LG: For many years, I have been intensively involved with the topic of artificial intelligence in film and literature. ChatGPT has of course rekindled this interest, even if it is not yet technically considered artificial intelligence in the true sense of the word. The film genre of science fiction has fascinated me for a long time. About ten years ago, I took a close look at the series "Real Humans", which plays a role in the context of this exhibition. Although the series is now ten years old, the topic is still relevant. I am particularly fascinated by how many of the seemingly absurd scenarios actually become reality later on.

SH: No, not yet. I find it an incredibly interesting topic and also very relevant. However, I'm currently focusing on the complexity of real intelligence.

Let's talk about your collaborative work: it consists of three parts, but you wouldn't call it a triptych?  

SH: Correct, because although it creates a context in the exhibition, it is not necessarily a coherent work in terms of content. 

The important question would probably be whether you can buy the works individually? (laughs)

SH: Of course, the works were created individually and also function independently.  

What is the content of this triad about? 

SH: To focus on a common concern, a common aspect that goes beyond our individual topics: that we are also politically minded people and that our work is not unaffected by the state of the world at certain points.

Our works do not make a statement on the politics of the day and are not intended to comment on anything specific, yet they find their individual expression in the representational cosmos of art. We are fellow sufferers of world events. In this exhibition, we both wanted to take a more concrete look at current events and the things that concern us all. On an individual level, of course, there are already subtle readings or possible interpretations in this direction. Nevertheless, our aim was to work together on the exhibition and the joint picture in order to work out and connect certain points. Lukas' critically contemporary pop-cultural background was also more strongly addressed by me in my earlier works. This may be why I particularly appreciate his work. The formal language of my painting is largely derived from this period, inspired by music and pop culture, pop art and graffiti. For me, the more abstract pictorial elements are also integrated into the depiction of the figure. Both the figurative and the abstract are equally legible in the picture for me, and there is no real difference between the two. The pictures can always be interpreted in both directions. The content is about the complexity of human feeling and action, the contrasts and contradictions of human existence.

... the abstract and the concrete?

SH: Exactly that. I also strive for this double or multiple interpretation in my pictures. The viewer should think his or her way into them. There is no ready-made narrative, no template for viewing and experiencing my pictures. The ambivalence of human nature and the human psyche, the complexity of human existence, these are the questions that find expression in my paintings. There are many "multiple faces": expressions that can be read both positively and negatively. Eyes that belong to two heads at the same time. Upright figures that are also fallen figures. Like my paintings, I am serious, but also very humorous at the same time.

Stefan, during my research on your work I noticed something: I don't think I've ever read so many different names about another artist whose work is associated with yours. From Goya, Thomas Scheibitz, Picasso, Pollock, to Kurt Schwitters. 

SH: (laughs) I haven't even noticed some of these attributions yet. People like to write about such references. Painting has a history and always exists in a contemporary environment. Every reference either consciously or unconsciously refers to something existing. I'm not sure if most viewers immediately think of these comparisons, I don't hear them often myself. I am influenced by many fellow artists from the past as well as the present. I always try to find my own pictorial formulations. In contrast to artists like Thomas Scheibitz, for example, who defragments a Picasso, I don't work with quotations or clear references.

I find it remarkable that your work obviously speaks to many people. Everyone who stands in front of your work seems to immediately associate something with it. Even though you emphasize that for you abstraction and figuration are equal in your work, most viewers tend to associate it more with abstraction at first. My personal feeling is that there are many abstract artworks that don't really evoke a reaction and can simply be overlooked. There is this aphorism attributed to Giorgio Vasari about Michelangelo: "Ogni buon pittore dipinge sé" - "Every good painter paints himself". Do you paint yourself?

SH: Sure. Recently, for example, I was thinking about the fact that since my student days and in many of my paintings, I have repeatedly used the motif of a hanging figure. Like a fallen angel, for example. This motif often appears subconsciously in my work. I recently asked myself: am I possibly this figure myself? An example of this can be found below in the work "Head of Movement", which is perhaps a little reminiscent of Arcimboldo. Instead of vegetables, however, figures and heads form a whole here. One probably always paints oneself a little by drawing on one's own experiences - the creator who reproduces himself.

How has your work developed over time?

SH: Over time, I have developed an extensive repertoire of pictorial possibilities, which gives me the flexibility to constantly recombine them and transform them into different contexts. The basic structure of the pictures is often the same: the bottom layer of these two works, for example, has the same structure (pointing to "The Leader" and "Head of the Movement"). It forms the skeleton of the formal level, so to speak, and becomes visible depending on how far I work it out. Sometimes I still need a body and a skin over it to work out the essence of the picture. My paintings draw heavily on the combination of contrasts and opposites that I have developed in the course of my artistic development. The bringing together of constructed and organic forms, of calculation and expressive gesture. The pouring of paint: chance and calculation.

The "brushstroke", which seems to arise from an emotional impulse, is nevertheless located exactly where it should fulfill its function in the overall picture. There is never a sketch or a clear, predefined idea of the picture when I start working. There is an idea that is still vague in formal terms, that arises from a feeling, the desire to express this feeling. In the working process, a reaction always follows the previous action, and everything finally comes together to form a whole.

And what about content?

SH: We were thinking about this exhibition: If we want to do an exhibition together, then we don't just want to add each other up out of opportunity and friendship and simply place our works next to each other.

The curators love dialog.

SH: Exactly. The dialog between the styles, the artists, the generations - that wasn't enough for us. We also wanted to link it thematically. Then, of course, there are all these pressing questions at the moment, this abundance of stressful moments that we have never experienced like this before, not even me as a child of the Cold War, when things seemed simpler, more orderly or better categorized despite everything. And then there was this moment when it became clear that we had a common ground, that we could relate to each other. Although Lukas works more in drafting, while I am more process-oriented, we have brought this together perfectly in our joint image.

LG: During my studies, I painted classically, freehand and analog; I often stood in front of the white canvas and just started painting. I think it was through the tile work that I started to work on the computer. That gave me confidence. It often frustrated me that I started with something analog, but didn't like it, and then always radically destroyed it - tore off the canvas and threw it away. That takes a lot of time. Working with the computer is similar to digital photography: nothing is final, you can delete everything immediately and start again. That's what I like about it. However, the clear digital aesthetic started to bother me at some point. The nice thing about working with Stefan was getting closer to his style and to the painting itself.

How exactly did this collaborative work come about?

SH: The funny thing was that Peter Ungeheuer really wanted us to spend as much time as possible together in front of the canvas, painting and discussing. Lukas and I realized right away that this would be difficult given our different approaches. So we said: Okay, one of us starts, the other reacts. I made a brushstroke, poured a little paint on the picture and handed it over to Lukas. So we each worked on the painting alone in our own studios. In the end, however, we did the finishing touches together. There were surprises in this process, of course, as we didn't know what would come back from the other. It was sometimes amazing. For example, in one step Lukas had splashed paint over the picture in an astonishingly wild and impetuous manner. I was amazed at what he dared to do. (laughs)

LG: Controlled coincidence.

SH: Exactly. Lukas just went for it. Then he put this wonderful cheeseburger on top ... and the text is clearly Lukas.

Wordy Rappinghood is a Tom Tom Club title.

LG: Yes, exactly.

Can you agree musically? You both say that music plays a big role?

SH: Yes, I think Lukas is a bit more in tune with the times. My own musical socialization with electronic music, for example, took place in the East Berlin club scene of the 90s, the legendary post-reunification Berlin. It felt like I was out in the nightlife there five days a week (both laugh). Lukas has a different background story, of course. It's interesting. For example, we talked about David Bowie, who is very important to both of us. Despite similar interests in certain pop culture phenomena, different socialization does make a difference; my pop culture background, for example, was strongly influenced by Andy Warhol and many American artists, who in turn had their roots in the late fifties, sixties and seventies. As a teenager, I even met Andy Warhol and got his autograph. These influences that moved me back then are in turn the primal roots of what seems so interesting today and perhaps impressed Lukas more. These are cultural transformation processes. The past always has an influence on what comes afterwards, but filtered and enriched by the next generation. We are interested in similar things, but in different ways. For example, I use Instagram very differently. I rarely share, and when I do, it's usually just art. Lukas always creates these great stories about things he sees on the street. I used to be very interested in that too, but not so long ago you couldn't really just photograph and share everything to the same extent because the technology and media didn't allow it.

Are you still interested in this kind of thing?

SH: Of course, I am still interested in all kinds of things that affect me from my environment. However, my interest has shifted from a fascination with the external to the internal. I used to be very interested in fashion and design, for example, but today I am more fascinated by the psychology and philosophical aspects that lie in and behind all of this. My pure fascination with the aesthetics of the banal has waned. More specifically, I am now more interested in how these external influences affect people and then manifest themselves through the expression of the inner self.

"The expression of the inner self" could actually be a possible definition of painting or art. So it almost seems to be a form of meta-painting when you represent the expression of the inner self through an aesthetic technique, which itself is an expression of the inner self. Right?

SH: The transmission level is decisive. Origin and destination, i.e. where something comes from and where it is transferred to. In transformations, as long as the meta-level does not remain self-referential, there is an internalization in various degrees. This internalization then finds its very own outward expression. This can also be found in Lukas' work. In any case, a possible definition of art.

You, on the other hand, have no text in the picture, but very strong titles. In abstract art in particular, the title is often perceived as a designation of the person depicted.

SH: The title should provide small clues, especially if no clearly defined narrative is recognizable. It helps to give the "child" a descriptive name. At best, this can support the ambiguity and ambivalence of the image expression.

What about the titles of the three works that are now on show at SMAC?

SH: "Kopf der Bewegung" could be interpreted as the thinking, directing head of a movement. A movement that tries to change an existing status quo. Then there are "Die Lupenreinen"...

Nice, a real George Grosz title.

SH: Quite, beautifully absurd. He refers to Gerhard Schröder's affirmative answer to the question of whether Putin is a flawless democrat. That was a while ago, but even then one could doubt whether there was a real democrat slumbering in the fur of a bear. Calling despots and autocrats flawless is certainly also a question of perspective, but it is always grotesque. "Die Lupenreinen“ have many faces.

The work "Moralkel" refers, among other things, to a story from my youth. When I was 19 years old and visited the Oracle of Delphi, I was impressed by the statement that you can do anything if you recognize yourself, as long as you do it in moderation and not in excess. The idea inspired me at the time. You ask a question and a higher authority shows you the way, full of meaning. Morality also plays a role. This applies to all those who emphasize moral principles and have a strong sense of mission. This can swing in different directions, be it moral, morally sour or diffuse.

The work "Die Führerin" bears the ambiguity in its name. It could be about the problems we are currently experiencing worldwide. It could be about those who lead - be it as autocrats, warmongers, dictators or as leaders of democratic movements, social groups and environmental organizations. When I typed "leader" into Google, a reference to Adolf Hitler immediately appeared. Naturally, I was tempted to try and find a positive female counterpart to evil. Is evil a male topos? Could a female leader unite the conflicts? Movements and revolutions are dependent on clear leadership and identification figures who show the way and are able to lead interest groups. The protests in Iran could possibly benefit from a strong female leader - a figure of light - in addition to the martyrs.

In Lukas' fictional "World War III", the game is also led by a woman.

SH: That's right, Sonja seems to me to be a strong leader. You have to stand up to the ominous, the evil. That has been the case since time immemorial: Every heroic epic is about good versus evil and vice versa. The song "Wordy Rappinghood", the title of which is immortalized on our joint picture, is about everything that words can signify and who they can signify, how significant or hollow they can be. There's the line "Words for Crooks". We thought our image was our words that we were shouting to all the Crooks out there.

„[...] our image is our words, which we shout at all the crooks out there.“

Lukas, do you always use your own words as titles for your works?

LG: Lately, yes.

Incidentally, I think the "cover" motif is great in its successful interplay of merciless pop aesthetics and creepy content. It impressively shows the complex interplay of the commodification of war on social media, propaganda and subculture - aspects that have always been present. Added to this is the increasing gamification of war, which leads to an ever greater abstraction of killing.

LG: It’s scary that you can follow the war in Ukraine, for example, live on the internet on both sides. It looks like computer games and is even accompanied by electronic music. It's a real war and you can see people dying live. What kind of times are we actually living in?

But Lukas, didn't you say that you don't want to be political?

LG: Not explicitly. Something resonates everywhere, but it arises very intuitively. It does seem to be on my mind.

Lukas Glinkowski (*1984 in Chełmno, Poland) lives and works in Berlin
Stefan Hirsig (*1966 in Berlin, Germany) lives and works in Berlin

Interview: Hilka Dirks