#2 In the studio with Nikolas Müller
Back in Cologne, I met Nikolas (Millennial, German) in his studio as we talked about digital anxiety, his transition from 3D to watercolor, sticker collections, and starting all over in a new city.
February 3, 2024. I’m wobbling in the rain through Cologne’s streets trying to balance my sliding purse and my phone in the other hand. On the other end of the line, Nikolas is giving me directions to his studio. I turn around the corner where we finally bump into each other. He’s wearing a tracksuit and a pine-green cap. Only later I notice the Lehman Brothers logo. Iconic. We get something to drink from the Kiosk and head into his workspace.
I came across Nikolas’ work in January at his solo show at kjubh Kunstverein in Cologne. He creates gooey, fluid lucid dreams of saturated watercolors. Slogans and stickers interrupt the occasional calm in between absurd, uncanny scenes. Digital aliens, childhood cartoons and candy shaped drops take turns in these lucid dreams.
These watercolors are like a logbook of my emotions and my inner state. When I look at them now, I can recall how I felt and what I went through making them. I can’t tell the exact day or year or anything, but I remember what it felt like.
Nikolas slowly rolls one cigarette after the other as we talk. He’d been working in digital design for fifteen years before fully dedicating himself to art. “Life isn’t about spending it in front of a screen, you know?”
The following conversation was edited for clarity.
JB: So you're saying the computer doesn't know coincidence?
NM: Right.
JB: But there’s this coincidence with paper?
NM: Exactly, exactly. Motifs merge on paper in a way I can't control. I do the watercolor, leave it there, it stays wet, and then I only see it once it's dry. And always turns out somehow different the next day.
And exactly, the computer knows no coincidence. There’s only structures on the computer that we can’t recognize. But there’s no real randomness. Well, actually, you can say that there’s no coincidence in watercolor either. It can be controlled and defined with gravity and drying time… But at some point, there was nothing left in 3D that really surprised me. I always say 3D is like skateboard tricks. When two 3D guys meet, they’re like Can you do that? Do you know that? –
JB: ...This lowkey sounds like the beginning of a bad joke: "Two 3D guys meet..." "Says one of them..."
NM: Yeah, right? And then you look at it and go Ah yes, that's technically the latest thing, or it's technically difficult or whatever. The results and the process can be fun. But I don't see much where I think wow, I've never seen that before. There’s still new stuff out, but with all the AI, the machine does a lot more work than the human.
JB: You think so?
NM: Yes, I feel like there's more machine than human behind it and that’s boring.
JB: I think it depends on how you use it. If I use AI as a tool, I still have to come up with a good prompt. I was thinking of it more optimistically as an assistance relationship.
NM: And you know, that’s fine. I really enjoyed modeling things myself in 3D, and it was important to me that the shapes looked exactly the way I define them. But when you're fiddling around with AI in your lil room, you give away a lot. I also feel like if you’ve seen one piece, you’ve seen them all. But I'm no longer so well informed. Somehow I found it more exciting back then, 10 or 20 years ago...
JB: So you're generally not really excited about all these technical innovations anymore?
NM: Kind of. Some concepts are still exciting. But for me, it's always in relation to emotions. What catches you? What overwhelms you? Irritates you? Gets you off track? And then in the second step, it’s technical stuff: How well is it done? And then in the third step, perhaps, how innovative or how new is the approach?
I’ve just been to the Rundgang in Düsseldorf... You can see that the digital aesthetic is coming into painting in some works, although it ends up a bit too thin for me. So if you want to combine the digital realm and painting, the digital level has to be really far ahead. And then it somehow becomes a convincing result.
JB: It's everywhere. That's how life feels right now. I’m fascinated with hyperreality, the way real life is feeling somehow digital…
NM: I think life itself is exciting enough. The real world offers enough. Of course I got Instagram and Spotify and stuff, but there are so few digital things that really excite me. My life is about stuff like interpersonal relationships or experiencing things. I always find the digital experience very spartan compared to what reality has to offer. I always have the feeling that it's not real, that it's not intense enough for me. I find life itself much more awesome.
JB: In the digital world, especially on social media, I love seeing how reality is developing, especially through humor. The difference between the generations is that humor today is just absolutely absurd and we have such a Dada renaissance, we’re taking absolutely nothing seriously anymore. Like humor doesn't have to make sense, it doesn't have to be an anecdote from beginning to punchline. The less sense it makes, the funnier it is.
NM: You could argue that the weakness of irony is that it's not an argument, so there's no earnesty, it all flips into a joke and so you can't say much seriously, can you?
JB: Do you mean irony is discrediting?
NM: There’s a problem. There’s a proposed solution. There’s an argument. And irony always dwells on saying nothing seriously. You don't commit yourself. That can turn problematic especially in a very young art scene. As long as everything is or could be a joke, you never have to say anything that you need to be accountable for.
JB: I see...
NM: It's a question of resources. Like who can allow themselves to see everything as a joke, which is also a very privileged position...
JB: I think irony expresses an exhaustion of constantly having to position yourself, of always having to say something meaningful. Everyone should be able to see where you stand on every possible issue. Retreating into irony may be a coping mechanism. But of course it has to do with privilege.
NM: What shouldn't happen is that when people want or need to communicate seriously, they can no longer do so. Things should stay navigable or manageable. You have to agree that some things are just the way they are or not something completely different all of a sudden.
JB: Is structure a response to stress or anxiety for you?
NM: Structure is rather a response to a lack of structure that I can't build myself. I need some kind of regulation from outside. When my stress increases and I get under pressure, I just get super confused and that gets worse and worse.
JB: Does making art add or relieve stress for you?
NM: Making art is definitely a stress reliever and gives me orientation within myself. So when I paint something, I see in the picture what's on my mind or what's important to me right now. The art world or whatever is pretty exhausting. I have to recover from it regularly. Strangers irritate me so much that I simply have to withdraw again and again.
JB: And how are you withdrawing?
NM: Into work or into safe relationships or friendships or just wherever things are still clear.
JB: Would you describe your first digital works as art or was that still design? Or do you not differentiate between these concepts?
NM: In practice, the question is rather: how do you pay your rent? When I work for other people or ask for money in design, I have to do what the person wants and fulfill their wishes or demands and that's a bit exhausting. I prefer to do my own thing. In some older free 3D works I simply did what I wanted with the software. I would describe those as artistic. But there are some jobs that I just did. So the question of digital/analog isn't necessarily about art/design for me, but more about where I am and what I want to do and how I can manage it economically.
JB: I love the stickers in your works. When did you start using them?
NM: I think I made the first ones around 2005 back in Trier. We used to make stickers and you couldn't have them printed yet. We had these post office stickers that were put on every parcel. You'd get stacks of them from somewhere and then paint them and add sharpie outlines and those were the first stickers I ever saw. They were all handmade, unique pieces.
JB: How do the stickers in the watercolors work? Are they like comments?
NM: It's a comment, a break, an extension and like a little link to the motif. I was once in Cologne and there were these stickers at Rewe when you bought something. I think those were my first found footage stickers…
JB: I remember when I was a kid in Rewe, you could buy sticker albums with R&B artists and then stick them in. I had a Kelly Roland sticker, T-Pain, I think there were also rock bands...
NM: Yeah cool! It's a completely different generation for me. We had sticker albums as children, you could go to the kiosk and there were rolls of different stickers and some had fluff or glitter and you bought a section for like 50 cents and went home with it, stuck it in your sticker book and then everyone had a sticker book.
JB: Yes, I think we had that too. Diddl stickers that smelled like popcorn or strawberries were a thing. Or the Rewe stickers for the minimum purchase value. But we didn't just go to the kiosk and get stickers.
NM: It was more like collecting. You used to bring the albums to your buddy's house and swap the stickers.
JB: And then you started making them yourself...
NM: Exactly. My stickers also became political stickers during my art studies. Like slogan and propaganda stickers. When I lived near the train station in 2014, I went into these sticker stores and looked everywhere for stickers with the most bizarre motifs possible. I bought a pack of stickers for 5 euros. And then they became part of the watercolors.
JB: When did you know that you wanted to be an artist?
NM: The decision to study art fell around 2017/18 and came with the distance from the computer. I chose a medium with watercolor that has a small hidden tradition. There's no discussion about whether it's design or something else. It's always a picture first. Whether it's good or not is another question. An arthistory person once told me that painting and drawing can claim to be art because of the medium itself, whereas photography, performance, 3D and whatever can always be something else aswell. A painted picture is always first and foremost a painted picture. That has left quite a mark on me. And of course you can say that there are 1000 bad pictures and that's not art. But the medium itself can only be art. That really fascinated me. Even in traditional painting, watercolor is not painting.
JB: Really?
NM: Well, it's a colored drawing. On the one hand because it's on paper, on the other because the color is not opaque. In other words, with watercolor I created a bridge between the drawing and the painting, which is somehow in between.
JB: So your development went from digital to drawing...
NM: Drawing has always been a part of it. During my design studies I worked on 3D and then there was this break with it. I'm currently working on a video again, but it doesn’t come as natural as it used to be. I used to have my computer just right at my bed, so I got up, turned on the computer, made coffee, and the computer was already on while I was drinking coffee. And then I started sending emails. And then the 3D program was already up and then it was 4 a.m. again and then I quickly got something to eat and turned on the computer again, rendered the files and it repeats on and on and on. Such a day to day routine is a waste of time and life.
JB: When you make watercolors, do you feel more anchored in reality?
NM: I wouldn't say so. But it's a physically real world that I'm dealing with. The brush movement, the hand movement, it exists in the moment exactly as it is. I can’t correct anything when making watercolors. The picture is finished when it's full... Good question actually, whether it’s realer or grounding or more reality-based. I don't know, I guess I have to think about it… The image is real as it’s on paper and therefore more tangible for others. A reality in the digital world is intransparent. In watercolor, it’s completely closed.
JB: If there are no correction options with watercolor, it's different with the computer. If you don't like something, you can go back as often as you like. Ultimately, you don't have to worry about making a mistake. Do you find that more liberating with watercolor? How does it feel when you make a brushstroke and somehow don't get it the way you wanted. Is that a good thing?
NM: I think that's good.
JB: Really? Doesn't that block you, that you go if I fuck this up now, then that's it...?
NM: I find it rather entertaining. I see it as a cool challenge to say okay, this brushstroke is important now and it's either going to work or it's not. If it works, I'm happy and if it doesn't, I'll have to see. You can deal with it differently in painting. That's what painting’s known for, but I also find that irritating about it. It's a strange question for me, whether the picture is finished or right or wrong. Or whether I should intervene again. I really like the naturalness of watercolor being definitive and final.
JB: Why did you choose Cologne to study art?
NM: Well, there was a woman. I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years at that time and Cologne was professionally the perfect location for both of us. I then moved here. The relationship ended the same week as the move was on.
JB: Damn...
NM: So I ended up in Cologne and I somehow tried to find my feet...
JB: How did that work out?
NM: Well, that was very, very frustrating at first. I got to know artists and they always said that my designs or illustration and what I draw wasn’t art.
JB: Do you mean the people who studied with you?
NM: Nah, that was way before my studies, they were people I got to know in the Cologne art scene. I later went to study art to get this definition of an artist. But the things I was still doing back then weren't that great and I was still younger and I think I was also very insecure about the big city, about artists. I still am today.
I thought I had to fight my way through it to be able to say something about it. My design diploma thesis had like [Ludwig] Wittgenstein quotes, Latin word stems and things like that. I always thought that's how art should be, or my art. But I've given up on that.
JB: I have always found Cologne to be inviting...
NM: Not for me. Things work differently in Trier than in Cologne. There are maybe ten people who do interesting things. Then you're part of it. The interpersonal relationships are very much based on commitment, because the city is just too small to be careless with your own word. You mess up, somebody notices. There’s no anonymity. You quickly become the person who does this and that. In Cologne, I noticed that people suddenly stopped answering calls although at the bar they’d say, let’s catch up soon and then they were irritated when you actually did it. I had a few crash landings at the beginning where I realized that it's different here somehow. It took quite a long time until I had my structures in place.
JB: Looking back, would you have done it differently? Chosen a different city?
NM: Nope, it's okay.
JB: Doesn't sound very enthusiastic...
NM: I had to be reasonable early on. Otherwise, I think, if it had been up to me, I would have been in some huge metropolis at 19...
JB: Like which one?
NM: It’s just some nonsense...
JB: Come on, like hypothetically…?
NM: Back then, I always told everyone that I was going to New York and then ended up in Cologne. Those were naive dreams.
JB: You need those for art, if everyone was really rational and calculated, it wouldn't be the real thing either...
NM: Yes, maybe that's why I think watercolor is so great. It also has something of a retreat into the small format. Like I used to do works about my partner, I was lost in such a romantic idea of an artist...
JB: Paint me like one of your French girls, Jack.
NM: Yeah, something like that. But with my current girlfriend, it’s more subtle. We discuss art a lot and argue about art. I value her opinion a lot. You know, my art is often about the people, the relationships that are important to me. That’s what I really care about.
Nikolas Müller lives and works in Cologne. He is part of the happening EXCESSPEACE! RELIQUIA: SOUNDSYSTEM on June 29, 2024 at Kunst im Hafen, Düsseldorf.
Website
Instagram: @thedancingnickboe
Thank you Nikolas for showing me around your studio! If you liked reading our convo, please leave me a like and a comment. And don’t forget to share with someone!
See you soon!!!
Jennifer
The Gen Z Art Critic
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