Memories of A Place I Have Never Been… Part II is the title of the most recent solo exhibition by Berlin-based artist Bastian Gehbauer. The exhibit was open for viewing from August 25th until October 7th, 2023 at Hoto Gallery—a repurposed former cinema situated in Bergmannkiez. The exhibited series represents an extension of the initial instalment of the project that was presented in June 2023 at DIT in Vienna, Austria. In addition to his photography practice, Gehbauer extensively engages with archival materials. The primary focus of his work lies in exploring spaces, buildings, their functionality and history. However, most importantly, he captures the emotional essence intrinsic to these locations, going beyond their explicit aspects . In 2023, Gehbauer became a Fellow of the Deutsche Fotothek in Dresden, a scholarship recipient of the Pollock Krasner Foundation, receiving financial support from the Kunstfonds Bonn. Below, Gehbauer engages with a few questions an hour before the vernissage of ofm his recebnt exhibition at Hoto Gallery.
Congratulations, Bastian. I’ve learned that this is your largest show to date. As I approach your investigative practice, the initial question that rushes to my mind is: What fuels your in-depth research for each individual piece in the show?
In fact, going through all of this doesn’t feel like a heavy workload to me. It’s more of a personal interest or a natural instinct, so to speak. I’m digging deeper into subjects that I’m already contemplating and deeply care about, particularly in the context of architecture. Over the past decade, I’ve captured numerous architectural images, making it quite natural for me to be immersed in these spaces. Specifically, their immense significance and unique history. Given the rapid transformation of Berlin over the last century, everything is intricately woven into the city’s architecture. As a result, these questions emerged quite organically.
As stated in the curatorial text, your work challenges the understanding of truth and perception, both in the past and the present. Could you please expand upon this?
First of all, photography inherently questions our concept of truth because it represents the so-called reality within an image. However, in reality, everything we perceive is heavily reliant on the image creator’s viewpoint, how they perceived the scene, and how they chose to portray it—perhaps. In a broader sense, the overall understanding of our environment is genuinely subjective. When using photography as a medium to depict one’s natural surroundings, it functions mostly as a representation of the individual’s perception and cannot, therefore, be an absolute truth. It’s my personal truth, exclusively. So, yes, as mentioned, it’s never an absolute certainty I’m seeking, but rather a way to express my thoughts about the concept of truth. This means that truth doesn’t inherently exist, or that it’s always contingent on the observer’s perspective, both in the past and in the present. Likewise, working with archival materials further underscores that the interpretation of what I see is influenced by my present-day perspective. History is invariably chronicled by the generations and the individuals succeeding the events, shaped by the latter’s personal outlook and their approach to it. Hence, it can never be entirely true in a definitive sense.
As we walk through the gallery, we encounter a series of fragmented architectural drawings by Martin Punitzer, a Jewish architect who fled Nazi Germany in 1939 and later passed away in Chile in 1949. Many of Punitzer’s designs, including plans for the Roxy Palast cinema, were lost or—as in the case of the showcased drawings—destroyed. Can you explain the correlation between the various objects in the show and the gallery space itself?
The gallery space intrigued me right from the start. It represents something that surrounds us everywhere. We find ourselves within a place that was once something entirely different, and this transformation isn’t evident when you enter. There are few remaining traces, with only a certain architectural style potentially triggering a sense of recognition. Yet in the present day, it has evolved into something entirely distinct. Hence, we must engage with memories, thoughts, or sources we’ve encountered to construct a particular history for ourselves. This is what we encounter here, alongside these artworks. We are confronting spaces that no longer exist, engaging with my perception of places that have faded into the past. Consequently, we are situated in a fitting environment—as, in essence, it operates on another level while it still encapsulates precisely the same concept.
From my perspective, your work presents a bold critique of the widespread disregard for recent history. It resurrects forgotten memories from a mere century ago, confronting contemporary global events, particularly the ascent of authoritarianism—a significant factor that has contributed to the vanishing of “the places you have never been.” Could you elaborate further on this concept?
Engaging with the historical context of the Weimar Republic and the subsequent rise of the Nazi regime, drawing parallels with contemporary events, is truly astonishing. The present-day manifestation, characterized by the significant resurgence of authoritarian behavior and the prominence of authoritarian parties, bears remarkable resemblance to the conduct of individuals a hundred years ago in the Weimar Republic, Italy, and across Europe. From my perspective, it’s fascinating to present these artworks that engage with the concept of “authoritarianism” in a specific manner. Dealing with events from a century ago, which remain pressingly relevant today, can evoke a sense of apprehension. The subject matter consistently portrayed across media on a daily basis further emphasizes such events’ influence on our environment. Despite the passage of time, we can distinctly perceive their impact on our surroundings. What captures my interest is the opportunity to view them from a more detached perspective. This distance potentially offers an objectified standpoint. However, it might also obscure the general understanding of the impact when one is consistently surrounded by these themes. I genuinely hope that people perceive the parallels between the visual representations showcased here and the ongoing events that unfold around us.
We could read numerous pages on each of these archival pieces due to their rich history, either as an individual or a series of objects shown together. Is there a chance of a future publication of your excessive research?
In addition to the exhibition catalogue, I am in the process of planning the publication of the works featured here, along with others I have completed and will create in the near future. It will be out within the upcoming year. I have a clear idea about that.
This is rather a personal question: I understand you’re proficient in Persian and have spent time in Iran. As an Iranian myself, I’ve noticed a certain melancholic tranquillity in your work, akin to the works of Abbas Kiarostami, which also align with your exhibition’s theme of “meditation on the poetics of entropy and the allegories of loss.” Could you comment on this observation?
I believe it’s connected to a particular facet of my personality. This somewhat melancholic mindset enables me to engage deeply with things and reflect on them profoundly. It also sparks my keen interest in this realm. That may also be the reason behind my fascination with unveiling aggression, destruction, extensively disruptive and destructive behaviors, while simultaneously striving to uncover a certain expression of clarity. A paramount aspect of it is acknowledging the perpetual process of erasure that everything undergoes, yet endeavoring to maintain a meaningful expression of what once existed before its sudden disappearance. Transforming this idea into a visual form, whether through imagery or sculptural installations, holds immense significance in my artistic work.
Despite industrial aesthetics often being associated with harmonious chaos and structured brutality, your polished work, while addressing a somber past, manages to convey an element of optimism. How do you achieve this balance?
I believe the primary selections are already quite challenging to grapple with and concentrate on. As such, they might not necessarily demand a visual or aesthetic expression that is also negative, mirroring the context in which these works originate. Instead, I strive to uncover something constructive—an optimistic perspective and a glimmer of hope. Moreover, my artistic intent is not to bring you down but rather to uplift and elevate your mindset. It aims to enable you to perceive beauty and even the potential for beauty within even the most destructive scenarios.
As we were chatting earlier, you mentioned that these works represent “a made up reality of the places,” from your viewpoint. This somewhat parallels the capabilities of AI-generated images. I’m quite curious to learn your perspective on this subject.
This is an exceptionally vital perspective since the most significant distinction between my work here and AI is rooted in the fundamental fact that AI is engendered within the dim chamber of computational perfectionism. Conversely, everything I am engaged with here resides at the opposite end of that spectrum—a realm devoid of perfection. It’s akin to the pursuit of perfection, only to be abruptly confronted by the intervention of external factors such as political forces or other forms of destruction. This, of course, spirals out of control, and that’s one aspect of it. The other facet that greatly captures my attention is the materiality of the pieces. The material itself embodies a tangible presence—it’s tangible, physical, and analog. The inherent destruction that accompanies analog materials, juxtaposed with the influences of nature, invariably leaves traces on the surface—a phenomenon evident in the same way as with film negatives. Consequently, I believe this stands as the most profound divergence between the creation of an AI-generated image and my own work. AI has never been organic or physical in any sort—nothing AI does is subject to the rules of physical decline. This distinction is notably highlighted in the fact that everything I’m creating has never been intrinsically linked to what we commonly refer to as reality. It has never directly engaged with it.
What are your thoughts on public art, and how does your artistic practice fit into that aspect of the industry?
BG: The first and only public work I’ve undertaken thus far involved installing a poster on the opposite side of Soho House, featuring one of the buildings I engaged with in the work Phantasma,1 in 2022. This effort aimed to bring it back into the public sphere, much like a home that, while originally intended for public visibility, now no longer retains that status in the same manner as it did in the past. This led me to the notion of reintroducing it into the discourse, enabling the general public to engage with it.