Applied Prose


‘If objects say something about me, let me say something about objects.’

German artist Uta Eisenreich creates her very own mysterious objects. Some of those precious items have found their place in Amber’s portrait. Amber looks closely and comments on the things that surround her.

Amber: ‘The things around us lead their own lives. They have their own world, their own scale, their own dialogue. They exist next to us, in our homes, in our closets. And they tell us something, and we can take the liberty to tell something about them. The liberty to get closer. Look as if it’s the first time.’

‘I am a collector. I take. I wish I was better, but it’s all I can do. And with the objects, I collect thoughts.’

‘Things. Some say you’re not supposed to use that word. Des choses. It would be too vague. Objects you can’t name, that can’t be good. I disagree. The objects may remain unnamed, I do have some things to say, though.’

‘Between two fingers you bring the ochre piece to your mouth. That lazy cigarette, the absence emphasized for just one moment, one breath. Excuse me, I’m really busy falling in love.‘ is what the cigarette says.’

‘It might be raining but you don’t care. The umbrella, now more a shape than anything else. Always feminine, sharp but protective. Just say: I don’t need you anymore. I just want to look at you.’

‘Exactly, exactly how clothes aren’t just things either.’

‘The light breaks onto glass. And suddenly you see where it’s coming from. Where the light has been coming from all that time. Now look at that. It reminds you of what a thought should look like. Coming in from a specific angle, as it hits the glass it breaks into pieces, into all colours. Prismatically. You promise yourself to use that word sometimes. ‘

‘I sit there, unchanged. Yet changed somehow. You now think you know more. More about what you see.‘

‘You walk the stairs, but you are never there. You never walk stairs, thinking about walking stairs. Your mind persists to wander, as you ascend, descend. More than anything, the stairs give room to think.’

‘Time, the one thing we all know we will never posses.

Let’s go somewhere, where there is time.’

‘I do not hate this, but I don’t feel I have to say something about it. I hate most things, but not this.’

‘Come closer. It stands here like a clumsy animal, pencils for legs. A cup for a head, it’s so dorky. I should give it a name. Remind me to give it a name.’

‘We apply genders to objects. I don’t like it, I think we could do better.

Why can’t we all be gender benders?

You reshape,

You change,

You rearrange your thoughts and your belongings.

Your body, too.’

‘The tree is big, the tree is small, the tree is two trees.

This is what Alice must have felt like.’

‘Squares. Circles. Triangles. Every object seems to be made up from those elements. Tangled and tied around you, or far away, untouchable. Even the plant, that plant is a collection of shapes. Just like the dice on top. Nothing more than shapes colliding.’

‘I’m in the middle of it. You think I look familiar, you think you recognize me.’

‘How can the things from your childhood leave a clear memory, yet you pass the objects that surround you in the present? These will be your future memories, so cherish them. They are findings yet to be discovered.’

Originally published on the Arnhem Mode Biennale 2011 website in April, 2011.

Text by Maurits de Bruijn
Photography by Anuschka Blommers & Niels Schumm