ike a child who puts together images, photos and drawings make albums, Matthias Herrmann presents us in this with “a collection of images and ideas that have a certain importance”. Maybe it’s the brief phrase at the beginning that suggests this comparison with a child: “The contents this book could be disturbing for children; owners of book should not let children have access to it”. That said, the suite of photos, self-portraits, quotations, extracts ads for sex toys, extracts from the artist’s intimate journals, covers magazines… has a very charming intimacy, almost innocent. Among photos where the artist represents himself naked are mixed in pornographic pictures that seem almost outmoded, as if an adolescent to his first sexual urges gathered them. Then there are quotations run the gamut from Groucho Marx to Doug Aitken, not to mention Robert Gober, Rirkrit Tiravanija and the cry taken up by Joseph Beuys, La rivoluzione siamo Noi”. Throughout the book the reader has impression of participating in the private life as well as the artistic Matthias Herrmann, and the book ends on a almost silent outburst: large format image of an ejaculation followed by a panel inscribed over, followed by an erection and then it’s over… strange comfort the same time insinuates an eternal return, of sex, of war, of life.
Maria Muhle (Paris)
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