Film Noir Aura, Chopped Boobs & A Rococo Closet: 3 Gallery Shows in Cologne
Let's see what's going on at Galerie Martin Kudlek, Philipp von Rosen Galerie, and Galerie Alex Serra.
Franz Burkhardt: ZWAR vorletzte gedanken
Franz (Gen X, German) turned the gallery into a boujee old hotel lobby: There’s dark brown wooden panels on grey walls, a fake fireplace, dim light, and round tables with comfy armchairs. Can somebody light a fat cigar for God’s sake? The artworks hang in uniform black and brown frames. Franz only went for vintage frames over the fireplace. The setup is also giving WASPy family estate à la Knives Out (2019). There’s crime in the air. At any given moment, Hercule Poirot might lock the door and ask everybody to sit down while elaborating on his suspect theory.
The suspense and tension echo back in Franz’s works. Mostly black and white drawings with handwritten and typed commentary take up space on paper. At first, their vintage appearance suggests that Franz ripped sheets out of age-old books —as if Grandpa’s notebook got vandalized by his son, and then the grandson added some sketches, and then his son doodled some more, and so on until the IPad kids couldn’t care less. Yes, I do think the male gaze is prominent. But as I look closer, the appearance is deceptive: Frank added paint here and there to make the paper look older. He also stuck an older drawing to a newer work, I can see by the dates. I don’t trust him.
Sometimes, Franz adds a tint of color to his drawings as if those were hand-colorized films. The visuals move on a spectrum encompassing Golden Hollywood graphics and pseudo-fascist propaganda. Now that’s range. He added the term “Klimaromantikerin” [Climate romantic] to a 1940s-type portrait of Margot (2024). I first thought that it should say “Klimawandelleugnerin” (sorry for throwing this long ass word at you, it means “climate change denier”). Franz wrote underneath the picture of a hetero couple getting it on “ohne eindeutige Zeugungsabsicht” (without clear procreation intention”. Yeah, they’re probably just having fun. But the German wording sounds so unsettling. It reminds me of legal texts. I think of the discussions on women’s reproductive rights, it makes me shiver.
Ambiguity and irritation describe his work the best. To a drawing of a girl brushing her hair, Franz simply added a typed “Bürsten” [Brushing] (like yeah, I sure hope she does) and a handwritten “Gut gegen Depressionen?” [Good against depression?]. Why do I feel like he took that line from a random sexist women’s advice magazine? The contrast is funny, though.
My absolute favorite one was a drawing of the phrase “For Sentimental Reasons…” It looks like the opener of a film noir. Or a shop sign. But what happened for sentimental reasons? What, Franz? TELL ME, FRANZ! I CAN’T BEAR THE UNCERTAINTY! Every time, his German, French, English, and Dutch commentary adds a surprisingly humorous or unsettling dimension. Franz must enjoy playing the unreliable narrator…
Martin Kudlek, through March 15, 2025. Schaafenstraße 25, 50676 Cologne
Silke Albrecht: fragmented and unprofessional
Silke (Millennial, German) works on the whole painting spectrum from figuration to abstraction pushing canvases together into bulky polyptychs. Those lined-up compositions don’t make me think of altarpieces, though, which they usually would. Her works give me a strong sense of deja vu. I’ve recently seen many artists working with a similar type of sequencing especially in combination with Hyperrealism. I remember seeing Bobbi Essers’s (Gen Z, Dutch) hyperrealistic sequences at the Stigter van Doesburg booth for Art Antwerp 2023. But given that I don’t have any further specific reference points, I’ll assume it’s Silke’s thing for now.
Silke’s most recurring motives are women, plants, and gestural abstract compositions. In weibliche Gottheit mit Berg (2024), I recognize the view from one of the gallery’s windows on the building across the street. I like how she’s selectively painting the canvas edges in a bright color. I see many meticulously painted women with bronze skin in bright, trendy bikinis. Looks like Instagram or Pinterest. A historical example of such a hyperrealist interest in women’s bodies would be Carole A. Feuerman’s (Silent Generation, US-American) swimmer sculptures back from the 80s. Sometimes, Silke adds a random white dot on top of those torsos. Those dots remind me of the camera interface on smartphones. You know, the ones you can push around the screen and tap to snap a picture. But I’m not sure if she refers to those, I saw one dot on the abstract part of weibliche Rückansicht mit Blüte (2024).
The press material explains that the white dots refer to affiliate links on Instagram. It also states that Silke investigates the male gaze imposed on these influencers through the fragmentation of their bodies. A perfect example is John Kacere’s (1920 – 1999, US-American) incredibly sexist work with his impeccable renderings of panties and lingerie on women’s bodies. It’s the definition of the male gaze. But the male gaze isn’t the perspective of individual men but the ideology of patriarchy. It’s how these influencers are seen and how they choose to present themselves. Like yeah, I see the point that Silke wants to bring across, that’s very Laura Mulvey (Silent Generation, British) of her. But the conversation moved on a couple of years ago. I’d say we’re now at a point of decentering men altogether and finding a new female gaze. By saying that under patriarchy, men see women not as whole human beings but as separate sexualized body parts and that women are conditioned to perceive themselves the same way, you’re essentially saying that the sky is blue.
The smaller works were much more interesting, I hope she’ll explore those more in the future. The depiction of women there is much less in your face. She adds an aesthetically intriguing glossy shine to fingers which is also part of some of the larger compositions. The rigid doll-like hands in grab her (2024) give me a sensation of Man Ray's (1890-1976, US-American) photography. In body boundaries (2024), Silke paints the hands adjusting a heel strap as quick glistening chaos. The dark shoe dissolves like a smudged lipstick. Now that’s a slay in the most appropriate sense of the word.
And even though those small-scale works are an undeniable hit, Silke misses with the larger pieces. The abstract part of Facepalm (2024) got that sickening sprayed neon orange and purple poured gloss just like the type of Dale Frank paintings I enthusiastically photographed back at Art Cologne in 2022. And I’m not proud of this past.
My last straw was F** these Walt Disney tits (2024). Believe me when I say that the woman was too stunned to speak. The left part depicts a bikini model torso with the Walt Disney tits in question. The right part is white-pinkish abstraction which continues on the perforated aluminum sheet in the middle. Not even the raw canvas that I usually love so much could make up for that. All I see is some Miami angel investment dude doing cocaine on the coffee table in front of this piece. Yes, he has the Virgil Abloh Taschen coffee table book and an Offwhite obsession, too.
So Silke is doing some meta-painting, hyperrealistic figuration, and place-holder abstraction. And what happens usually when you multitask? It doesn’t turn out the way it could have if it had been done with focus. I think the pieces are an easy mix-and-match for collectors who haven’t made up their minds on what they want.
Philipp von Rosen Galerie, through March 15, 2025. Gertrudenstrasse 24-28, 50667 Cologne
Emmélie Lempert: run, birdie, run
I loved Emmélie’s (Gen Z, German) work at the winter Rundgang in Düsseldorf last year and I love how it keeps developing. Her solo show at Galerie Alex Serra didn’t disappoint. Emmélie focuses on arranging surreal clothing in glass displays. Their dark cold metal frames contrast the delicate fabric compositions in light, pastelish colors.
There are stockings, bras, socks, corsets, and pantaloons. And although they come with signs of wear and tear, it’s hard to imagine how you’re supposed to put on the dear empty apex (2025) bodysuit, for example: Left arm’s missing, right arm’s sewed to the hip, and you better don’t have a right calf, otherwise, it won’t fit. The bonnet is the easiest part. This is so Mrs. Bennet from Pride and Prejudice of her. For beak and hand (2024), Emmélie attached an opening to the left knee. For what? I don’t know whether the hand in between the thighs is an awkward self-covering gesture or a foreign hand groping… Emmélie’s bras and corsets don’t hold a tight shape but form long…yeah how do I put this… boob sleeves?
Some pieces make me think of animals rather than humans. The white satin glove in whispered my secret (2025) turns into a talking muzzle chatting to a jellyfish. Just squint your eyes and imagine a shadow theater. Ohne Titel (in a land far aw) (2025) looks like the outline of a medieval castle rather than a corset. The two castle towers might also be hennins. You know, the pointed medieval princess hats. Not only is Emmélie sewing separate pieces together, but she also brings forth new patterns through the stitching. Across that very same piece, she wrote in a land far aw with her sewing machine. Just like her clothing pieces, the sentence ends abruptly at some point.
As I already said in my review of her work at the Kunstakademie Düsseldorf last year, the glass plates turn the presentation into a herbarium. In some pieces, Emmélie makes the fabric stay in the restrictive confines of their boxes. Look at the corpse-like bodysuit in body and collar (2024). In mothlike (2025), though, gloved pants escape the frame. A pink sleeve breaks out in Ohne Titel (longing desperately) (2025) as well. Pressed between glass plates, the fabric texture comes out much more intensely. Textiles made to look delicate and elegant look rummaged and crumpled. Together with their amputational outlines, softness turns into grotesque.
I was surprised to see a ceramic piece titled absence, glazed (2023) in the exhibition checklist because I can’t recall seeing it during my visit. I’m sorry that I can’t share any perspectives on that piece. The only rather underwhelming work in the show was Ohne Titel (in the waiting line) (2025), a yellowish corset holding on to the metal frame by its ribbons. Emmélie didn’t use glass for this one. And it looks like she didn’t change anything about the chosen item. This one doesn’t go much beyond a simple readymade.
Emmélie uses vintage fabric, but mostly blankets and bedsheets, which she reworks into suggested clothing. The prosthetic fits seem to be made for fantastical bodies or to ridicule real body expectations. Their impracticality could be a satirical commentary on historical women’s fashion: Wenches be like “I want pockets to store my personal belongings” but can’t even keep a 30cm waist for their man. Looks like somebody messed around with Marie Antoinette’s underwear after the revolution.
Galerie Alex Serra, through March 22, 2025. Niehler Straße 104, 50733 Cologne
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Jennifer
The Gen Z Art Critic