In the course of his exhibition at Galerie Amart, which runs until February 2, 2025, Hermann Staudinger reflects on material, technique and the magic of gold. Between tradition and innovation, the painter searches for an energy that turns art into a unifying experience.
Hermann Staudinger's works invite us to pause and take a closer look. His paintings play with light, texture and depth and often unfold their effect only gradually. Characterized by a quiet but powerful energy, the paintings appear both reduced and full of resonance. In the interview, Staudinger talks about his passion for reduced means, his fascination with nature and the fine art of conveying emotions through material and technique.
In an interview with skug, he reveals why drawing is the most honest form of art for him, how the forest and light shape his processes and which baroque inspirations resonate in his works. His exhibition can be seen at the Amart Gallery until February 1, 2025.
skug: How did your artistic journey begin?
Hermann Staudinger: Probably before I was born. But the decisive moment was in 1990, when I went to New York for three months at the age of 27. There I immersed myself in the art scene, consciously avoiding Austrians and experiencing new things. At the Museum of Modern Art, I saw my first work by Ad Reinhardt, an abstract expressionist. His black paintings, which dissolve into different shades of black on closer inspection, touched me deeply. The beauty I experienced brought tears to my eyes. At that moment, I realized what it means to be an artist.
To create this resonance?
And to transmit this energy.
When you talk about energy, do you mean an idea that you have about a motif beforehand? Or is it rather the thing itself in the world that triggers this energy?
I believe that each of us comes into the world with our own energy, and you always fall back on that. One day you work with clay, the next with oil and painting, but I think you always come back to the same point.
Why was it something visual for you and not forms of expression such as theater or music?
That suited me as a child. You can be by yourself and still not be alone. You are not of this world, but still right in the middle.
Is it a transcendence that you are trying to achieve?
Perhaps it's more of an immanence: something that goes in, not beyond. I once worked with Nitsch and made a few poured paintings on gold. He always talked about basic excess. At the time, I wrote to him: “In reality, when your girlfriend touches you on the fingernail or a ray of light falls in - these are the little things that make you look at the other side. For me, that's not a basic excess, but rather a basic transgression.”
Well said. And the other side you're talking about: is it part of the real world?
Yes, it is part of the real world. Without this other side, the real world would just be clay ore. There would be no spirit, no esprit, no joy. There would be nothing “extra”. Everything would just be a pragmatic functionality equation, which might be nice when it works, but actually remains bland.
Have you ever had the feeling of losing yourself in your artistic practice on this other side? Or are there things that bring you back?
You have to use this crossing of boundaries purposefully, it must not mutate into poison. If you're away for too long, that's not good either. But in my experience, reappearing is something you learn. Then you also know: now I have to go running again, go to church or meditate. Just normal things. Everyone can do that for themselves, but for me, returning to a source is part of it. These are all words with a Catholic connotation, but I think it's essential to always find a rallying point. Without that, your own work will become strange at some point.
Or do you melt away?
You lose yourself in the tasks that the world throws at you, which can be appealing. But there is also such a thing as being without a commission. That's when it gets really exciting. Heiner Müller once said a beautiful sentence: “When the socio-economic question is solved, the real drama of man begins.”
Because then everyone has to deal with themselves?
Yes, when the existential is resolved: Who and what are you then?
How does the material you work with play into this world of ideas?
I work with pencil and gold leaf. For me, drawing is the most honest form of art. I like reduced means - and gold is in itself a baroque medium that was often used excessively. But ultimately gold is just a material.
The meaning it has acquired is man-made.
It's all man-made!
How do you prepare your works before they can unfold their effect?
Most of the pictures come from photos that are printed out as black and white copies on paper. I trace through them in pencil. It's very simple. In reality, it's like filling in a coloring book. I have a template in black and white and trace it meticulously onto the gold surface. All I have to do is stretch a piece of paper over it. It takes so little!
But the end product looks very elaborate.
It is also time-consuming! A lot of time goes into these strokes. But that's exactly what I like so much: you make a decision once and see it through - that can take up to two months. With other artists, it's often a constant “now, now, now”. I prefer to enter an eternity in my process and spread out there.
Isn't it always a game between expression and alienation from the world?
I don't think it's an either/or, but a mutual complement. I think the search for the ultimate expression in everyday art is nonsense. I'm not interested in that. I want to create something that expresses and radiates a certain feeling - a feeling that doesn't say “I”, but is simply there.
It's a feeling that doesn't constantly assert itself, but leaves the space open for the viewer?
Exactly. It's like an open table with lots of things on it that you can take something from.
What role does the technique you use play in the interpretation of the motif?
It's important to me that the surface has a similarity to an animal skin - countless small units that create an overall picture. Maybe it's a search for infinity, but I feel comfortable with this repetition. I simply like working my way into a mental field. I like that.
It sounds to me like you want to sew yourself into the “skin” of things and give them a new shape.
But the shape is not the point. It's not ten strokes, but ten thousand. The end product is, of course, a picture that you can buy, hang up and look at. But it is not the gesture of a prince painter who says: “I have created the world with my brush.” I'm not interested in that. It's more about a subtle description, like on a calm day by the sea when you can hear the lapping of the waves.
How do you decide what to use as this ripple?
The motifs have to appeal to me. I work a lot with photographs, especially pictures that I have taken on walks in my surroundings. Of course, I also have gold areas that are completely imageless.
Do you spend a lot of time in nature?
Yes, I have two dogs and have always wanted to consciously experience the seasons. I get to do that with them now - I go outside twice a day for at least 20 minutes. We live in the middle of the Vienna Woods. Dogs open up another world to you. The way they sniff and perceive their surroundings - that also increases your own sensitivity. It's an exchange.
Another aspect that stands out strongly in your work is light. To what extent is light a guide for you?
There is a beautiful quote from Rabbi Nachman, a Hasidic teacher. He said: “As a hand held before the eye conceals the greatest mountain, so the small earthly life covers the immense lights and mysteries of which the world is full; and he who can pull it away from his eyes, as one pulls away a hand, sees the great glow of the world's interior”.
I somehow follow this. Every kind of glow is fascinating - be it the laughter of a person, the sun after a long period of fog or a joyfully jumping dog.
The light plays a role in two ways: how you perceive it and how it reacts in the picture. Do you consciously control it?
That has developed. My first work in the gold technique was created for a group exhibition just before Christmas, when I didn't have time to go to the printer. I actually wanted to do a screen print on gold. The printer didn't have time, so I decided to print the image on gold using black or blue paper.But nothing worked, so I created an image that couldn't be seen at first - to paraphrase Beuys: “The main thing is that it's done”. Two months later, when the moon fell through the window, I suddenly saw something.I liked it. It's a rare image because it's not visible “just like that”. It changes all the time, almost like in real life. The same thing always looks different. It's an illusion to believe that things are fixed. Our “on-board computer” can't process all this at all. In reality, we only ever do short “student essays”.
What has always fascinated me the most is that your world will probably always look different from mine - based on what I see and perceive.
That is true. And at the same time it's not true at all, because we all have a similar way of seeing and thinking.We are human beings and not gorillas, even if our genetic material is 99.9 percent the same.In reality, this is precisely the reason why art works: it speaks to us on a level that connects us.
But why does a work of art trigger something in one person and not in another?
That's true, but there are works of art like the “Mona Lisa” or Leonardo da Vinci's “John the Baptist” - he immortalized human affection in a painting. And whether you like it or not, it grabs you. It has a special power. Of course you can be enthusiastic about modern forms - tastes are different. But we all know this fundamental energy of art.
Do you think that something has been lost in modernity?
No. For me, I understood that back then with Ad Reinhardt: Art is about transmission. Whether you create this with a cardboard lid, a model or in a play is ultimately irrelevant. The decisive factor is: Is there an energy that wants to communicate itself? If not, it remains a bland story.
Then the artwork just wants to be itself too much.
Exactly. There are artists, for example, who at some point have found a “knitting pattern” that works - and they keep on doing it.
How do you avoid falling into a pattern like that?
I think I would get really physically sick. Of course my work is similar, but I'm always trying out new alloys or formats.
How do you keep it fresh for yourself so you don't get bored?
I have nothing against a cultivated kind of boredom. I don't think we need to constantly reinvent the world - everything is already there anyway. It would be bad if my environment or my buyers said: “I don't like that anymore.” Then I would have to think of something else. I've also taken a few pictures over water in the meantime, but I don't need a completely new program.
What is it about the forest that keeps you coming back?
The forest reflects something of an impossibility theme for me. Firstly, it has been around much longer than we have. And this view into the forest, these hundreds of thousands of leaves that just won't stop - I find this never-endingness fascinating. It doesn't stop with a single tree either. A tree tells of the beauty of life and the beauty of other trees. It is a multi-layered thing. The forest is different every day, also because of the light or the air. And you yourself calm down. The forest stands for a consciousness that functions like a net, not like a peak. It's not like a mountain that says: “Me!”
Rhizomatic?
Exactly! In Indian mythology, there is the concept of the “network”, Indra's net. We only ever see a few emerging parts of the rhizome, but never the whole thing.
I have always been fascinated by the idea of the rhizome: A web that surrounds us all.
Yes, like a web-like energy that carries us all.
Exactly, it's like a net that lies over everything ...
And that we all are too ...
... our thoughts, our feelings. And of course these are just ideas. There is no real net.
We are constantly dealing with auxiliary constructions. Rupert Sheldrake talks about morphic fields - like when two populations of chimpanzees that are separated from each other learn how to split coconuts at the same time. For me, working a little on this network and feeling safe in it is one of the best things in life.
Does your art have a historical reference?
The idea of working with gold was implemented in a similar way by Baroque artists. It is striking how golden rooms - such as the Jesuit Church in Vienna or the Mariazell Basilica - have been fitted with spotlights through modern renovations, which destroy the effect. These buildings were originally designed for twilight. Then one gold reflection after another was discovered and the space was understood.
A gradual decoding of the space.
Exactly. By the way, you can't shine the light directly on gold. Every time I come to one of my exhibitions, I switch off the light.
Do you want your works to fulfill a movement, an awakening or a certain function? Or do you leave that open?
That's a remarkable question! I think that what moves me also moves others. I am happy to have brought something beautiful into the world that communicates. That is wonderful. Otherwise I wouldn't be an artist, I'd be a janitor. Although: even a janitor is happy about a beautiful floor!