Aschenblume

The first time I learned about Anselm Kiefer's Aschenblume was when I was reading its description in a book. It was just a description without a photo reference. It intrigued me enough to find it on the net and now I wish I saw it in all its enormous life size.

It's a seascape with the horizon in the middle of the canvas. The water seems heavy, oil like, saturated with earth, dust, ashes, molten metal, fear, pain, memories, nightmares. Above the sea hovers an image reminiscent of a smudge a coffee cup makes when the coffee is spilt and never cleaned. However, it is not that, not a smudge, it's far more concrete, heavy, a mixture of earth, dust, ashes, molten metal, fear, pain, memories, nightmares. It looks as if it's been born out of the sea, from a blue crack in the water of molten metal. 

It's not like other seascapes I looked at lately. This painting isn't cold, smelling of salt and water. It's hot, it seems airless due to heath emanating from the water, the sky. This time I'm not interested in the void, I don't want to know what goes on beyond the horizon. My attention is captured by the dusty thing hovering above the water of molten metal.

I close my eyes, imagining myself standing at the edge of the painting, just over the frame, with the toes of my bare feet still touching it. I stretch my arms wide out, feeling the hot air on my upturned face. I lean into it and the heath engulfs me. I let go. The fall into the water of molten metal is unbearable slow, strangely painful. Dust and earth and pain fill my lungs.

Then I turn my eyes upwards, to where a wooden frame rests against the canvas, reminding me that what I'm looking at is just a two dimensional painting.

Anselm Kiefer, Aschenblume, 2004, oil, acrylic and emulsion on canvas / olje, akril in emulzija na platnu, 243 x 256 cm

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Za Aschenblume Anselma Kieferja sem prvič izvedela, ko sem brala opis slike v neki knjigi. Bil je samo opis, brez fotografije. Dovolj me je vznemiril, da sem sliko poiskala na internetu. Sedaj si želim, da bi to ogromno sliko lahko videla v živo.

Gledam morje, horizont je nekje na sredini platna. Voda se zdi težka, podobna olju, nasičena z zemljo, prahom, razbeljeno kovino, strahom, bolečino, spomini, môrami. Nad morjem lebdi nekaj podobnega packi, ki jo pusti kavna skodelica, ko smo polili kavo in madeža nikoli nismo počistili. Kljub temu vem, da ni to, veliko bolj konkretno je, težko, mešanica zemlje, prahu, razbeljene kovine, strahu, bolečine, spominov, môre. Videti je kot da bi se dvignilo iz morja, iz modre razpoke v vodi iz razbeljene kovine.

Morje na sliki ni podobno nobeni sliki z morsko pokrajino, ki bi jo zadnje čase gledala. Slika ni hladna, ne oddaja vonja po soli in vodi. Vroča je, zdi se brezzračna zaradi vročine, ki mezi iz vode, iz neba. Tokrat ne iščem praznine, ne zanima me kaj se dogaja onkraj horizonta. Mojo pozornost zahteva prašna zmes, ki lebdi nad vodo iz razbeljene kovine.

Zaprem oči, predstavljam si, da stojim na robu slike, čisto na robu okvirja, s prsti se ga komaj še dotikam. Razširim roke, čutim vroč zrak na privzdignjenem obrazu. Naslonim se nanj, vročina me sprejme vase. Padec v vodo iz razbeljene kovine je nevzdržno počasen, čudno boleč. Prah in zemlja in bolečina mi napolnijo pljuča.

Potem obrnem oči navzgor, kjer lesen okvir počiva na platnu in me opominja, da je to kar gledam samo dvodimenzionalna slika.