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Born 1967 in Immenstadt, Germany
Aged 19 he started to study art in Munich at the class of Hans Baschang before he moved to Vienna to participate in the course of Arnulf Rainer and graduated in Düsseldorf the masterclass of Michael Buthe.
"Years have past, decades have passed, centuries, and the Drawing is: What it is. Drawing. Muted it looks at us. We visit it at the museum. At the gallery, yes at the arts college. We look at it attentively. It speaks to us. What it says, is incomprehensible to many. It speaks of time, of space and inner qualities. Its lust seems controllable. And yet, we do not absolutely trust the drawing. There is something monstrous about it. Just as in people. There is something monstrous about people too. We often refuse to believe it, and then it strikes. It does not do it consciously, but it hurts. We are disillusioned. The drawing too disillusions us. It says for example: “Don’t drink to much” or “You better stay home today.” And it is right. It always wants our best after all. The drawing knows what is good for us. It says: “Go here, go there, go into the woods, up to the mountain” or also: “Go to hell” But mostly it does not really mean it then seriously. Because the drawing enjoys to fib. Who wants to resent that against it? In the morning when getting up, the Drawing is particularly rebellious. It often shouts out load or spits uncontrolledly on the floor. Then we turn away thinking: “If only I was a painter, if only I was a sculptor, If only I was a car mechanic. Or a dwarf.” But no one escapes the Drawings so easily. It forces us to bare its mood. And for that it grants the utmost, the indescribable. We are not yet capable to say exactly what that is. But we will find out. Despite genetic engineering, despite curse of time. People suffer. The Drawing even knows that. And so it doesn’t miss any opportunity to help us. From that, my friends, I can truly tell you a thing or two about it."
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 Thomas Palme, Edgar Poe Whore, 2009, Graphite on paper, 150 x 120 cm |
