Esenija Bannan and I created a podcast together. Each episode focuses on one quote, using it as a spark to discuss broader themes, connect to specific artists and exhibitions, and debate aspects of contemporary art | available on all podcast platforms from April 30.
WHY WE BEGIN WITH WORDS
When we set out to create a podcast about contemporary art, we faced a fundamental question: in a world saturated with images, why begin with words? Why build an entire series around quotes from artists, curators, and historians when the artwork itself is the primary experience?
The answer lies in understanding what a quote actually is. I see it as a bridge and a pathway that connects our own experience, knowledge, and intuition to the artwork itself. When artists’ speaks about their work, they offer us a valuable companion on our journey of understanding, opening new lines of inquiry we might not have discovered alone.
The moment an artist speaks, they are translating. They are wrestling a visual, material, or experiential language into a verbal one. And language, by its very nature, has limits. It’s structured, linear, rational. It often fails spectacularly when trying to contain the very things art excels at expressing like complex emotional states, intuitive knowledge, the ineffable.
This tension is precisely what fascinates us. When an artist struggles to articulate their own creation, trying to pin it down with words, something profound happens. Sometimes the words are elegant and precise. Other times, they’re a beautiful failure. But in either case, we’re not looking for the definitive truth. We’re looking for the trace or the residue of the artist’s own struggle to understand their work.
Of course, the artwork itself also has its „limits”. Its meaning is subjective, its grammar isn’t universal (at least not when you see it in a rationalistic way), and its reception depends entirely on the viewer. Which brings us to the central paradox of our podcast: we are using a non-visual medium to discuss a profoundly visual world.
Rather than seeing this as a limitation, we see it as an opportunity. It forces a different kind of engagement. We must paint pictures with words, creating what we call “mental cinema” (Kopfkino). We describe the texture of a canvas, the flicker of a video installation, the weight of a sculpture in a room. In doing so, we become better, more attentive viewers ourselves. And crucially, we invite our listeners into a conversation rather than showing them the art. We acknowledge that while a picture may be worth a thousand words, that doesn’t mean we want to give up the letters, the words, the sentences.
The truth is, art and language exist in a dynamic relationship. Art can confuse or dissolve the clarity of language, and language can give us a new anchor point for looking at art. Neither is complete without the other. And that’s where the real conversation begins.
