Katharina Berndt: Goldbergpark
Dear Berndt, we are very pleased to speak with you in the context of your impressive site-specific installation at Goldbergpark. Your work, a 12-channel large-scale projection, uses the park’s trees as an innovative canvas for your metaphorical creatures. I would like to ask you a few questions to better understand the creation of this work and the deeper conceptual themes, particularly regarding the fragmentation of the self in the digital world.
– What is interesting about participating in a light and media art project in Gelsenkirchen? Why did you agree to take part in GOLDSTÜCKE?
I am happy to be part of a well-curated light festival that is more than the sum of its parts.
– How does the context of Gelsenkirchen (or the specific festival location) influence your work? Are there local elements you’ve incorporated?
For me, both the theme and the location are decisive for my work. Projections on trees and grass, that is, living, amorphous material, are very exciting to me. Also, the different scenarios I can create in a park. There are large, solitary tree groups, edges, grassy areas, paths, and cave-like spaces under the trees. This transformation of a seemingly familiar place fascinates me. The liveliness of the plants as both a projection surface and a walkable stage, along with the unpredictability that comes with it, is a wonderful challenge. The preparation is more of a premonition, which can turn into something else on-site. This liveliness and the play with chance, letting things happen, and reacting to circumstances, makes the artistic process particularly appealing to me. An interesting side note, another site-specific aspect, is the use of geometric patterns that create a visual pull, which I incorporated into the images, and which I particularly remember from the Kinetic Art exhibition at the Buer Art Museum.
– Can you explain your creative process for this work, from the first ideas to the concept and then the implementation?
I was asked if I would like to animate the park with black-and-white drawn gobo projections. This technique is very simple; similar to powerful slide projectors, they can perfectly project static images outdoors. What’s special for me as a draftsman is that we are working with a three-dimensional “stage” that the audience can walk through. There are two main walking directions on the paths, but how close people get to the images or how they approach them is up to each person. Projecting onto trees is an experimental field I’ve wanted to explore for a long time. When you project an image onto such an uneven “surface” as a treetop or a grassy area, the image is only clearly visible from one point, after which it shatters into countless amorphous fragments. This is also a great effect in reverse: you see a lit tree, and suddenly the beam of light becomes an image. Seeing my drawings in such large dimensions in space and walking through them is a particularly exhilarating experience for me as the creator. The movement happens only through the viewer’s movement and the wind. There’s no cinematic dramaturgy, no color flash. Just simple and quiet.
First, I took a close look at the park and explored what kind of spaces I could create with the projections. In combination with various external factors (number of available projectors, the ability to switch off certain streetlights, enough lighting for safe passage, and the determination of possible projector installation sites), a path of images was created on paper. Thematically, I was intrigued by the idea of “self-staging in social media.” Growing up in Potsdam, I was already disturbed by tourist behavior long before the age of mobile phones: always the same scenes playing out in front of the same locations—photo of me in front of the castle, photo of me in front of the statue, etc. Both the poses and the facial expressions were so interchangeable that the individuality of the experience became absurd. I wanted to highlight this artificial repetition of the same motifs as a sale of individuality and the simultaneous narcissistic self-presentation in this work. The narcissus flower plays a central role as a symbol. It is the red thread that guides us through the park. At first glance, it’s a decorative bloom, which couldn’t find a better stage than a garden. Secondly, it’s a symbol of self-love and egocentrism. The world revolves around me, me, and me. Sometimes the “me” is also a small “we.” In any case, it’s part of a superficial appearance of beauty.
The connection with psychedelic patterns arose in my search for a visual translation of the magnetic pull of mobile phones and social media. In doing so, I came across the optical effects of Op Art and remembered the Kinetic Art exhibition at the Buer Art Museum, which I had visited at the last Goldstücke festival. It’s a nice circle back to the location. As I write this, the final images are still coming together. When setting up the projectors, everything will be confronted with reality, and the work as a complete light art installation will transform again. The sequence, size, and density are composed in my head, but they will certainly change once again on-site.
– How does this work relate to your general artistic practice, or do you deviate from it?
I always work for a specific location and theme. It is rare that a finished piece will tour afterward. In this sense, the working process is in line with my usual approach. A location and a subject are presented to me, and I see what happens, working through it. My studies as an illustrator come in handy in this respect.
– How do you approach creating art in public spaces? What special challenges and opportunities come with working in public spaces?
The fact that the space is public, i.e., freely accessible, allows everyone—including everyday passersby and residents—to perceive the space as it is newly staged. Giving everyone the opportunity to immerse themselves as often as they want and to spend as much or as little time there as they like is a privilege for all involved and elevates the art from its pedestal.
– What type of location did you choose for your work? How did you find it?
I was specifically asked because my working method and my images fit well with the park (and maybe also because I come from a gardener’s dynasty :). I love creating contemplative places of retreat amidst the hustle and bustle, and I’m familiar with gobo projection technology. Both fit well together.
– How do you engage with light and media as media in your artistic practice? What prompted you to work with these elements?
I enjoy working with the high-contrast aesthetic of silhouette cutting. These appear in my work as permanently glued window images and temporary light projections. In both cases, light plays a major role. In this case, it’s the possibility of staging a seemingly familiar place without a huge amount of material, for a short time. It’s an optical illusion. Temporarily transforming places in this way is a form of art that fascinates me. It’s like a walk-through stage set with the press of a button.
– What technologies are you using in this work? How do they contribute to your artistic vision?
Gobo projections can be thought of as similar to glass slides or spotlights with built-in optics. I always try to create a lot with little. Creativity comes from limitations: static images, no color, no sound. As anachronistic as it is beautiful. The advantage here is that there’s no pixel blur like with digital projectors, and with this method, you could project for much longer periods at a much lower cost, which makes it a great medium for long-term projections.
– In your opinion, how will light and media art evolve in response to our changing world? What future directions interest you in this field?
I find it fascinating how AI is becoming more prevalent. However, it is pushing me more in the opposite direction. Hand-drawn art will maintain its place in the art world, and handmade work will increasingly gain attractiveness. I’m quite anachronistic in that sense and a strong advocate of the imperfect and the creatively unexpected.
– How does your work respond to current tensions, conflicts, or crises, or do you reflect on these?
See above, the creative process – playing with the motif of the narcissus, which fits the park, but also serves as a symbol, and takes aim at the self-centered madness perpetuated by social media.
I drew on the aspect of uniform, artificial, egocentric self-presentation in social media and intertwined it with the myth of Narcissus. Essentially, it’s about the cloud being clogged with the same images over and over again, containing nothing original, and instead, like decals, replicating themselves. The cold façade of the artificiality of staged happiness.
– How do you balance aesthetic considerations, content focus, and social engagement in your artistic production?
These thoughts develop in parallel, in the making, in the flowing process.
– What do you hope viewers will take away from interacting with or experiencing your work?
First of all, I want the visitors to explore the whole thing playfully: How does something look from where? What is it like to stand inside the image? From where can I see it best? How does it change as I walk on? That’s the spatial experience aspect.
Secondly, there are these two levels, which I hope as many people as possible will recognize. If you’re part of the self-staging bubble, the work will present itself differently than it will to people who are already skeptical of the topic. The break and the reflection on what’s happening here, what’s being shown—that’s what I’d most like people to talk about. There are some hidden themes, like: What is public and what is private? What makes true beauty? What is meaningful today? What do we need?
– Are there other works in this year’s festival program that particularly interest you? Do you have recommendations for the audience?
Not yet. The question comes too soon for me.