A winding staircase that is part of the interior of the museum, bends itself towards the fl oor. Steel profi les point out of the wall, that used to hold the pedestal to which the staircase led and which allowed access to a door at the upper half of the room. This pedestal is now leaning at a pillar in the center of the space. This »Rewinding staircase« takes a functional object and transforms it into a sculpture. The stair elements descend like rotor blades towards the middle of the exhibition space.

Photos by Rüdiger Lubricht

Rewinding Staircase

In the frame of his solo exhibition »Space Invader« Lukas was living and working in the exhibition space of Kunstverein Hannover. Being watched by CCTV at all times, he decided to move his whole equipment including bed, underneath the camera, outside its picture frame. A wooden staircase was then constructed on the opposite side of the space, lifting the viewer about 3,5 meters above ground. On top, a small screen displayed the live view of the CCTV camera that was depicting the viewer from the back. However, nothing of Lukas’ studio was seen in the picture frame – the viewer seemed to be alone in the room. Being inspired by Bruce Naumans closed circuit installations, Lukas created a hierarchical imbalance between himself, who was living and working inside the space all along, the viewers and the institution. In the context of the exhibition he was the one to be looked at, to be kept under surveillance, which he aimed to emphasise by constructing this »Watchtower« for guests. However, viewers would soon recognise themselves as still being watched by a higher instance – one that is hiding behind the curtain of a CCTV camera who’s eyes the artist already succeeded to escape by living underneath its radar. 

Photos by Volker Crone

Watchtower

Two partly dismantled motorbikes face each other. Their hectic honking and the aggressive pulling of the ignition remain a failing attempted rapprochement: None of their motors is ever been turned on. Both vehicles are exposed to a different movement inevitably, which’s consistent progress seems to have removed some of their parts already: Their own decay.

The horn, a universal sign of warning, becomes a mono-vocabulary language: A primitive dialogue is suggested that humanizes the mopeds, providing a dystopian picture: Disintegrating machines face each other as human equivalents in a social encounter, against their nature in restraint to standstill – Yet connected by their distant, disharmonious dialogue, that is based on warning signals. 


Ghostriders

Field Report was conceived for the Italian village of Olevano Romano and is a light installation that connects the two German artists' houses on site. In this way, Casa Baldi and Villa Serpentara can communicate across the valley of the village. From the village, it is possible to follow the conversation of two chatbots encoded in this way: A computer programme translates the light signals for the

guests of the houses. The morse codelike messages give the appearance of human communication.

The chatbots are programmed to respond empathetically to messages received, for example in the form of encouragement or queries. Similar algorithms can be found, for example, in smartphone apps such as "Replika". The chatbots' efforts make them seem alien to the viewer; the undecipherable light signals make them appear almost uncomfortable. In the double alienation through morse code-like light signals and the communication of codes, "Field Report" reflects relationships of strangeness in the confrontation with technologies that try to imitate human behaviour.

Field Report

Follow me Blindly is a gadget that was developed specifically for the purpose of clicking the Like button on social media platforms such as Instagram. It consists of a motorized stylus and a camera that constantly scans the device's contact surface for Like buttons. Once a post has been liked, the machine begins to "swipe." A continuous working rhythm is created, which transfers the redundant use of the platform into machinecontrolled vehemence and accompanies it acoustically. At the same time, the absence of a user, whose presence should be considered the basic principle of a social media platform, becomes apparent. Instead, the machine becomes a worker, a clickworker that generates interactions - a digital currency that gives the respective account more visibility. It is also crucial to note that Follow me Blindly is not a software bot, but a much more elaborately manufactured machine. Due to the analog control of the smartphone, the algorithm of the respective platform can hardly distinguish the operation of the machine from that of a human. And yet, on the part of the recipients of the Likes, the presumption exists that each of the interactions is sincere recognition. The machine corrupts this basic idea and hacks into the system of the economy of attention. Follow me Blindly is the first device of a sequence of tools that are to be developed in the future. This body of work will be called Tools of Silent Disobedience that all embody the power to corrupt everyday life systems with it's own working principles.

Follow Me Blindly 

“The intervention entitled Home Sweet Home in the largest exhibition space of the Städtische Galerie is a living space that can be rented for a maximum of three nights during the exhibition. It is offered exclusively by Lukas Zerbst via the AirBnB platform. Rentable and usable between 6 and 10 p.m., the functionality of the room is changed as soon as someone decides to book the offer. What must be read as art during the gallery's opening hours by the institutional definition, becomes a collection of everyday objects again when paid for accordingly - and an exclusive experience. The appeal of inhabiting art, of inscribing oneself as a part of art and of being "in the museum at night" is fulfilled without an audience. Lukas Zerbst undertakes an appropriation of space that primarily concerns the institutional level of the Städtische Galerie site. For it is not a residential space, even according to building regulations, but a public cultural space. It is partially privatised and above all monetarised by AirBnB. Thus, the principally subversive gesture of simply stripping an art institution of its functionality and thus its exclusivity is a reflection of a development that is shaping our society. For offers such as AirBnB demonstrably destroy affordable living space, fuel the privatisation of profits in a late capitalist society and at the same time evade social responsibility. They are based on a dynamic of evaluations and social control, on a gigantic data collection that one undergoes when booking via AirBnB. Lukas Zerbst's intervention and appropriation is a political gesture that is successful, of all things, when it is used as often as possible and, in the best/worst case, even generates profits for the artist."

\- Ingmar Lähnemann (Curator Städtische Galerie Bremen)

Home Sweet Home 

In the stairwell of the Städtische Galerie Bremen, guests encountered the site-specific installation Longing: a window closed with stones and cement forms a niche in the interior wall, which is the starting point for the work. A window and curtain are mounted on it. The sashes of the window are wide open. A fierce wind silently blows up the curtain, which constantly dances through the window frame, puffs up and falls again. In the process, through occasional openings it shows: Behind the curtain is not a sweeping view, but a grey stone wall. In this, Longing connects two worlds: in the case of the installation in the Städtische Galerie Bremen, the wind blew from the large archive of regional art. Here, the work spoke of a meta-level of the art business, of the old woes of the museum struggling to stay alive by voraciously devouring contemporary art. Against this background, Longing is thus not only a material intervention, an architectural addition, but also stands on this threshold between the past and the now. From there flows a breeze that hints at life behind the wall. The "old" art speaks out, wants to gain entry into the now, our side: the side on which visitors stand, who look, feel, discuss - the "relevant" side. From our side, if the wind blows favourably, we can at most see the wall that closes the former window. Then it remains a "mystery" from where the wind blows. So it is also a projection surface for what the exhibition guests want to see behind the blowing curtain. A doublesided "longing", in other words, in which insoluble wishes resonate at this threshold from both sides of the wall.

Longing 

After entering the tiny space we see someone whose exhaustion can be seen right from the start. Sweat runs down this person's forehead as they breathe heavily and mop up water from a flooded floorboard. More water splashes down from the ceiling, also hitting the person who is now drenched and reaching for his bucket. With a reluctant groan, they devote themselves to drying the floor again. And so it goes on and on. Soon the cause of their dilemma is revealed in the picture: the ceiling bends towards the floor in the form of a gigantic drip and, bubbling, occasionally loses some water, which the person, who turns out to be a plumber, tries to keep away from the sensitive wooden floor. Two toolboxes stand in the corner, as if some other person who trapped our protagonist here in the prison of their care had just left - To get help? Bystanders appear who watch idly as the plumber's struggle continues. The performance was originally presented in 2022 at Warte für Kunst in Kassel, the presence of a group of spectators in the cinematic documentation reinforces and concretises the gap between the worker and the audience present. The plumber's deeds become a show act and so do the non-deeds of the bystanders. As the son of a Polish working-class family, I inherit a willingness to do physical work. As with my father, taking action serves me as a strategy for overcoming insecurities. Work as a peace offering, but only if it is reciprocated. This silent performance, carried out in the socially occupied space of an exhibition area, counters the exhaustion of the worker with the inaction of his spectators - and opens up a view of social inequality in general.

Maintenance

The short film Hive is a collaboration between three artists, who are currently quarantined in the artist residence facility of Cité Internationale des Arts in Paris. The self-isolation by the french law contributed a variety of restrictions that were the challenging base for this ongoing project. 

Yet, Hive does thematise the current situation metaphorically at most. The psychological journey of the protagonist speaks of the world beyond the confinement: stipulations of social roles, productivity, nationality are invisible walls that will not leave with the quarantine prescribed by law. We are involuntarily born into social schemes that we voluntarily appropriate. And yet we live in the name of and praise individual freedom — 

This short film is directed and produced by Nina Traub and Lukas Zerbst. The original music was composed and recorded by Koki Nakano. 
With kind support by Hazira and Cité Internationale des Arts.


Hive

Behind Closed Doors was a livestream performance for two local audiences as well as viewers on the Internet at the same time. It was a collage-like show in which the social media habits of the people involved were thematised and put on stage, as well as the medial staging of the hosting institution, the Kaunas Artist House.
The audience was invited to attend the collective self-presentation: an actress announced a free yoga class in which one of the two audience learned a simple choreography (four “selfie poses”), which they were later allowed to perform for the other audience. 
Finally, it was revealed to the audience that they could be watched live by a third internet audience all the time.

„You‘re acting weird when a camera is pointing at you. Authenticity is sellable on the internet, but you can‘t buy it on Amazon or eBay. The more aware we become of the fact that we are constantly acting in a global public, the more professional we become about it. We find a comfort in it - for the cost of authenticity? ”

”Numbers and Nicknames — Doesn’t matter to whom they belong. It’s Feed- back from the machine I’m feeding.”



Behind Closed Doors

Intervention at the ambient lighting of the exhibition space. Lights that are sequentially turned off and on form a shadow that moves through the space. Additionally speakers are installed enhancing the movement of the shadow acoustically. A computer generates the properties of the shadow (e.g. size, speed, …) via random algorithm and remix the sound accordingly.


Ékleipsis

By using a dismantled spiral staircase Lukas tried to arrange its elements in a way, so he could reach an area in the space that is lifted up 3 meters. The access was supposed to be easy enough to reach it without using hands.

After an “acrobatic act” and thanks to the help of two persons from the audience, Lukas reached his goal after around 45 mns. The resulting arrangement of stair elements was exhibited for the rest of the exhibition.

Sculpture of Easy Access

A structure below the ceiling of which the square shaped mineral fiberboards have been removed is being enhanced with equivalent aluminium bars: The grid is being distorted and tilted towards the floor.

Structures like these usually serve the purpose of hiding the infrastructure of a room. This subarea that keeps electrical wiring, ducts for air conditioning and the fire distinguishers, characteristically is positioned above the presentation space for art. The manipulation of the framework which describes a borderline between both of the spaces, merges the off space with the art space.

»Offspace« was created within the frame of an exhibition at Nhà Sàn Collective.


Offspace

Re-enactment of the very popular nude drawing at Vietnam University of Fine Arts in Hanoi. Four our of the overall nine ceiling-fans are extended to a height of 1,50m – 1,80m above the floor. The blades touch paper that is fixed to scaffolds lightly, draw horizontal lines or hit it. The scaffolds are aligned to the center of the room, where Lukas positioned himself as a nude model.

Lukas thematizes the general censorship of nudity in the field of arts in Vietnam, which paradoxically is a strict routine at Arts Universities. Also, he presents himself as a foreigner to the local society, as an obvious white male person, as example motif of exotisation in an environment exotic to himself. 



Autoportrait

In »Rear Windows« silhouettes of the window frames behind which the spotlights move are projected to the inner court. Viewers are eventually being put into spotlight and become protagonists involuntarily.
The light in »Rear Windows« is an expression of being observed, which emanates in the window itself. The windows are the origin of the idea of being observed, a condition of the possibility of being observed. The reference to Hitchcocks movie raises motifs of suspense or might be reminiscent of the film’s Sujet: Are viewers the ones obeserving or the ones who are obeserved? What stories come up about ourselves in this short involuntarily act in the spotlight, our short solo moment in the theater of the world?


Rear Windows

As if they had untied themselves from their industrial enclosure, neon-pipes bend away from their ceiling mounts and presumably reach for the windows - the daylight.
Despite their fragility as long glass objects, their movement seem unburdened, light as a feather. Yet, actually unmounting from the the industrial neon lamps might however be their secure death. How strong must their urge be to reach the daylight?
In a series of 8 glass sculptures filled with Argon gas, Moths were hand-manufactured by the artist in 2020 in the frame of his solo exhibition Space Invader at Kunstverein Hannover.

Moths

Above an opaque contruction below the ceiling three pairs of shoes move back and forth. A closer look reveals that their kind of movement is reminiscent of the movement of exhibitions viewers: The shadows of the shoes stop facing walls, for instance. Rest there, walk on the spot as if they were pondering about something at the wall.
However, the space in which these shoes are located, is not accessible to any viewer. In this separation that the installation Seen it All opens, comes up a feeling of dissatisfaction about not being able to see everything the exhibition has to offer.

Seen it All

A white man in white paints white walls white. Not exactly the same white, but a slightly different shade. Covered up as pragmatic gesture of casual spacial cosmetic, the performance An Other White happens within an already open exhibition. Its score determines precise guidelines for the quality of the job, as well as potential conversations with guests. For instance, the paint is put on the walls in a dilettante fashion, and the performer is not an artist, but someone who was engaged to do this job.
The fact that An Other White might be overseen as an artistic intervention, is symptomatic for the problem that it addresses: It is a kind of public Whitewashing of an already White Space – As Action, or maybe as solidary protest, it is only valid as long as it happens. Afterwards, the walls will be simply white, without an comparison one will not see a difference. In the end the action didn’t make a difference.
Are we, as artists, doing enough to engage ourselves with our art for better conditions and equal rights for all people? The answer this performance gives is always: No.

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