TOMORROW WILL BE LIKE TODAY

Continuity has no power in the realm of memories; as a concept for constant temporal sequences and continuous connections, it does not have this power. How often do memories deceive us, add details and conceal facts: You can't always rely on them. They can resurface through clues, objects or smells and sometimes the cloak of oblivion protects us. Four artists deal in different ways with the theme of remembering, the reconstruction of missing memories or their active erasure. All four explore the possibilities of the medium of photography, which was created per se to capture the moment and depict it as faithfully as possible. Over the decades and with growing accessibility, photography became increasingly privatized, so that the photographic memento could manifest itself in family albums weighing tons. Today, in the age of social media, photography is more present than ever before and is used far beyond artistic spheres for the disappearing and wasteful production of memory material.

In her work "Oskar - bestellt und noch nicht abgeholt", Lea Kulens gives life to abandoned objects through the construction of pinhole cameras and entices them to tell their last story.

In Sinah Osner's work "Thoughts on the fullness of nothingness", the artist builds an astonishing visual network of memory fragments and thus documents a multidimensional search that can never be completed.

Franziska Pütz provides an intimate insight into relationship constellations and processing procedures in "I used to like you" through her radical approach to image content and material by irretrievably damaging the negatives.

In "Waterlines" by Tatiana Vdovenko, viewers are confronted with destruction and an aesthetic inherent in chaos. Despite the photographic intervention, the extent of the catastrophe is palpable.

Lea Kulens:
www.leakulens.de | leakule (opens in a new tab)

Sinah Osner:
www.sinahosner.de | sinahosner (opens in a new tab)

Franziska Pütz:
zzzici (opens in a new tab)

Tatiana Vdovenko:
www.tatianavdovenko.com | tat_j_v (opens in a new tab)