The demand for recognition, adaptation and self-optimization, at times appearing remote-controlled, is increasingly being called into question. The pandemic-related standstill revealed the stress and never- ending balancing act we all are subjected to. As individuals we find ourselves in a community suddenly shut down, yet still pressured by the expectation to perform. Stretch confronts the potential and danger of constant stretching and offers a moment of reflection before life moves on as before and we enter the “new normal.”

The six artists presented investigate elements of stretching, bending, and distending. The exhibition title refers to the material as well as a sociocultural phenomenon that permeates our performance-oriented society. Not only physically, intellectually, socially, and artistically, but also in the pursuit of beauty and social ideals, we are prompted and prodded to stretch. Always associated with a mental, physical or technical exercise of strength, stretching is intended to achieve short or long-term results. However, damage can be caused in the process: while stretched material is quickly at the threshold of overstraining, the exercising force itself can reach its extreme stress limit.

The exhibition features a wide range of artistic practices, from painting, to printing techniques and ceramics, to textiles and steel sculptures. The works testify to physicality and focus on the human physique as a motif. The body appears as an apparatus that is not only flexible and strong, but also ephemeral and vulnerable.

​Ziva Drvaric approaches bodies through the medium of photography and presents them as black and white silkscreens on unprimed linen. With their soft appearance captured in indeterminate moments, Not Right and Stretch to Fit contrast the stereotypical notion of steeled bodies in the gym. Feet and legs come into focus as bearers of the body, providing stability in order to move forward safely.In Reflections III a hand stretches up in the air—a fleeting gesture that seems yearning and haunting at the same time.
In a series of steel sculptures, the artist demonstrates that physical effort can also lead to liberation. Bent, the oversized paper clips are deprived of their actual function and now appear as emancipated subjects. In their newly gained freedom, they rest on a support as if they were seeking help; however, they seem to be able to assert themselves confidently in their new surroundings.

​In Christina Huber‘s paintings, abstraction blurs with thingness, the surfaces of the canvases treated in the manner of a relief. Small bulges in the material seem enigmatic and duplicate the medium of the stretched canvas. In their skin-like appearance, the paintings almost engage in a selfacting metabolism. Traces of paint shimmer through like blood vessels, while iridescent color transitions move away from the organic, much more reminiscent of digital surfaces. Small-format images with titles like Nach unten links or Strecken gather in a detached installation.
In Schwarzer Drache, the oil paint has been massaged into the linen fabric like a facial scrub. An impasto application, the paint remains muddy. Neither the beginning nor the end of the process can be clearly discerned. Permeated by internal processes and external influences, the shell of a body functions like a surface that is in constant contact with the inner and outer worlds.

​Looking at us like grimacing faces, Kristina Lovaas’s ceramics are replicas of beauty masks used for skin treatment. The carefully formed clay objects though were left to chance, for the artist drops them on the ground before they solidify in the kiln. This destructive gesture breaks with the traditions of classical sculpture and reflects a reprisal of the constraints of beauty culture. At the same time, the facial expressions persist in the grotesque, as if there were no escape. Torn from everyday life, a turtleneck sweater with extra-long sleeves stretches across the wall. The garment usually promises soothing warmth and protection. Here, it seems to seek to embrace the surrounding space and offer affection. But touch proves more distant than ever, as the arms of Caught and To Be Catched reach into nowhere.

​In Johanna Käthe Michel‘s installation, the shop windows facing Fürstenstrasse are covered with so-called eye pads. Dried out, they stick to the window pane instead of fulfilling their actual function. Whereas they are normally intended to reduce eye bags and wrinkles, here they appear like abstract window pictures that resemble a collection of strange organisms. In this damaged form, the cosmetics ironically reveal signs of aging themselves. In her series of works entitled Promises, the artist poetically demonstrates the hollow claims of such beauty products, especially those that proclaim a „natural“ appearance as the ideal. Using a cut-out technique, she creates poems from product descriptions and presents them as posters, alluding to the manufacturing companies’ supposed care for our well-being ad absurdum. Similarly, moments of personal self-care can be imagined.

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Martina Morger‘s immersive installation titled They Start to Lose It With Time consists of a PVC protective mat lying ponderously on the floor. On its shiny surface we can recognize the traces of tedious work: sanding marks of unclear origin. The indentations and abrasions testify to something that has happened, suggesting human activity. Like a programmed yet viscous machine, we feel the presence of a body. Its absence shimmers in the incidence of light. At the same time, the process does not seem to be completed, as the plastic sheet lies at our feet, ready for further wear, stretching cumbersomely through the rooms of the gallery. An inherent movement towards the exterior gives the impression of an imminent escape from the center. Occupying the space in a site-specific way, the artist simultaneously tests its limits, the material protecting the floor butting up against corners or leading to a dead end.

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Maximilian Haja‘s large-scale wall painting shows a detail from the film Uzumaki (2000) by Japanese director Akihiro Higuchi. The manga’s plot revolves around an entire city population’s increasing obsession with spirals, leading to ghoulish scenes. The motif chosen here shows the protagonist. Although he initially manages, together with his girlfriend, to withstand the encircling obsession, he eventually finds himself as the creature depicted in the wall painting. Its worn out limbs are now rendered useless. It is unclear whether this is an escape or a liberation — this remains to be seen when the supernatural changes take effect. The faceless and disembodied threat exposes deepseated fears that ask which compulsions and routines lead to a mental or physical stretch. Why do we begin to stretch: to achieve something or to escape?

Philipp Lange