Abundance and void

Dorthe Goedenʼs paper cuttings are almost exclusively done in black and white, they do without colour completely. This characteristic in itself means that they present a certain stage of abstraction, for as we all know the world that surrounds us and that we perceive with our eyes presents itself as multicoloured. Therefore Goedenʼs confinement to black and white draws her works apart from the real world and strongly challenges our imagination, in a way comparable to a black-and-white photo. In contrast to a photo or a drawing, however, they are haptic, they possess materiality, even though they are to a great extent removed from the real world. As the multi-layered works made of paper or cardboard are usually fastened on the wall only by means of small tacks, they may bulge, at times even waft slightly, thus casting overlapping shadows. These play their part in the polyphonic event. On the other hand, the cuts themselves adopt the character of shadow figures as achromic, but by no means colourless, slightly three-dimensional reliefs. This qualifies them as references to both the really tangible and the immaterial.

This seems to be no contradiction. In any case, one may deduce that Dorthe Goedenʼs paper cuttings have a lot to do with the relationship between picture and image, appearance and reality. This very ambivalence between the real and the imaginary and also between abundance and void determines the attraction of these subtle works – apart from their fascinating visual charm.

Paper cutting and silhouette have belonged closely together from time immemorial; the latter may even be traced back to the founding myth of painting. In this context, one may even refer to Platon´s allegory of the cave. As has been explained elsewhere, however, it is more likely that they are based on the encyclopaedia Naturalis historia, in which Plinius the Elder (1st century B C) relates the story of a girl from Corinth. As a reminder of her lover, she traced his figure on the wall in a silhouette before he departed on a long journey. The paper cutting, however, dates back to ancient China and prospered in this country especially in the 19th century – during Goetheʼs time, Biedermeier and romanticism. Goeden merges silhouette and paper cutting again, but she uses the scalpel instead of scissors for her work: after all, the strong cardboard spread out on the floor can be dealt with more easily with a knife or cutter. Goeden cuts out the surfaces so that the fragile outlines and bridges remain. These connect in a web of narrow and wide strips. Therefore, Goedenʼs cuttings can ultimately be traced back to the element of the contour, the line; monochrome or even structured inner spaces are missing unless one sees the fine web of black lines in some drawings and cuttings as richly detailed space. The few monochrome segments one can detect only serve the artist as the basis for the web of three-dimensional strips spreading out over them.

Human beings tend to discover at least traces of the real world even in an abstract design. In Goedenʼs cuttings one can actually discover such relics of reality, such as organic shapes, numbers, historical picture quotations or letters. They are generated from the memory of the artist. Goeden gathers the inspiration for her motifs from experiences, often even from impressions she captured and noted down fleetingly when passing by. This may be a grotesquely shaped twig or a decorated lamp post, a snail shell or a window cross. Organoid, living shapes as well as technoid and architectural objects may arouse her attention. But a completely invented ornamental motif, a human gesture or a constructive framework of lines, often in combination, may also be used as blueprints for her work.

Goeden captures these conspicuous impressions down on the pages of common exercise books. Similar to diaries, these notes keep the resources of her pictorial motifs. It is surprising that she actually jots down her ideas on ruled paper. But the lines do not disturb the flow of her work at all; they resist, but also offer support, they provide the structure and a clue at the format in which a motif can eventually be carried out. And straight lines often remain as constructive elements in the final paper- or cardboard work. This is preceded by a first draft which contains all details and can be projected on the wall. Goeden now also uses the computer as a supporting tool; furthermore, the laser beam occasionally replaces the cutter.

During the adventure of exploring the drawings and cuts the viewer perceives the time-consuming, delicate and complicated process to cut several layers of cardboard to complete the final product. Kneeling on the floor in utter concentration, Goeden is left with only little distance to her object, but she appreciates just this immediate closeness, the direct touch. Wall to wall formats such as the filigree, black, horizontal tree landscape are joined together from several set pieces. Frequently they are arranged almost mirror-symmetrically, like Rorschach tests. This is also the case with the multiform ink drawing which may be read as the birth of the universe exuding from the big bang or the central void. This mirror symmetry is likely to spring from Goedenʼs effort to force the hardly comprehensible chaos into a certain order. If a motif is repeated several times in a rapport, it is its rhythmical arrangement which provides both motion as well a structure.

Goeden never responds directly to contemporary history or even politics in the way one is familiar with from Kara Walkerʼs shadow figures and William Kentridge or the metal reliefs by Andrea Browers. Neither does she want to relate anything. But still one can notice a certain affinity to theatrical stage design. Broad wall works evoke the association of a stage curtain, especially because the various layers overlapping like a collage always play their double role of hiding and exposing. Incidentally, due to the strong ornamental effect her large wall works have from a distance, Goeden has for a long time been asked to present wall works in public places.

Renate Puvogel, translated by Sabine Kranz