Most museums consider potential visitor numbers when programming their exhibitions. Consider, for example, Yayoi Kusama at the Beyeler Foundation or "Back in Lucerne" with Miró, Picasso, Kandinsky, Kirchner in Bern, and so on. Institutions operating between museums and art galleries are somewhat bolder. One art gallery, however, disregards these considerations: the former Pasquart in Biel/Bienne. With the exhibition of Hudinilson Jr. (1957-2013) and Jean-Charles de Quillacq (born 1979), Paul Bernard presents a Brazilian underground movement from the 1970s and 80s alongside material-focused contemporary French sculptures. Although Quillacq lived in Zurich for a time (even receiving a Swiss Award in 2017), both artists are virtually unknown here. Consequently, visitor numbers are modest, almost a matter of chance, especially if visitors to the Photoforum also happen to wander through the art exhibition. It would take an enormous effort, a massive media campaign, to change that; all the more so since you have to visit the interactive exhibition at least twice, not just to see it, but also to truly understand it. I'm glad I did. Because after the first tour, I was convinced I had to write a scathing review. Now I see it in a more nuanced light.
First of all: The theme of both technically completely different works is male sexuality, a topic that has almost entirely disappeared from the public eye since #MeToo and doesn't appear here in a one-dimensionally "queer" way. A plus for the invitation. In the context of the Kunsthaus Biel/Bienne, it is partly a response to the preceding exhibition by Alexandra Bircken, which highlighted an unusual female perspective. The works by HUDINILSON JR are primarily photocopies—not photocopies of works, mind you, but copy art, as was possible in Brazil, slowly awakening from the era of military dictatorship, with practically no financial resources. A closer look reveals how the artist cleverly works with enlargements (obfuscations!), how pubic hair, under the heading "Zona de Tensão" (Tension Zone), transforms with each copy into shimmering, repeated assemblages, for example. The base images for these originated from a performance by the artist with his photocopier (image left). The approach is monumentally evident when photocopies of interlocked fingers become wall-filling images of interlocked penises, in dialogue with an angled "arm" made of epoxy resin by Jean-Charles de Quillacq (image above right), held upright by a metal vise.
Another section of Hudinilson's exhibition is directly related to the political situation in São Paulo around 1980, when he, along with Rafael França and Mario Ramiro, carried out acts of resistance in public spaces, such as wrapping the heads of monuments. While there are hints of contemporary relevance here, this part strikes me as more documentation than art
De Quillacq works primarily with body forms, be they hollows in stiffened jeans or replicas of legs – sometimes sculptural, sometimes Giacometti-like in their reduction, sometimes "dressed," sometimes naked (with artificial hair), sometimes merely depicting the genitals. Thematically, I recognize a suffering related to masculinity and the societal expectation of constant readiness for arousal. This is very clearly illustrated in the rather ugly robot, which is constantly struck on its genitals with an oversized spoon to arouse them. Then the robot relaxes, only to be reminded of its "task" again by a striking sound (image).
Parallel to this narrative aspect of his work, de Quillaq creates formally reduced, but by no means small, sculptures, mostly tubular in shape, thus incorporating the penis motif from the body chapter, but also simply interpreting them as a point of thrust, though it remains unclear which direction prevails! It is the material composition that gives one pause, as the resin, according to the label, is coated with urine and Viagra, which is recognizable as a glossy "lacquer."
The Salle Poma is the centerpiece of de Quillacq's exhibition. And here, my second visit doesn't change my impression. The artist doesn't succeed in making the works "speak" in such a way that an overarching mood becomes palpable, that the abstract and narrative sculptures enter into a dialogue with one another. Yes, the Salle Poma is a challenge! Anyone who simply fills it with art has failed! (Until November 30, 2025)
It's as if Augustin Rebetez's 2023 exhibition at the Aargauer Kunsthaus had set the standard for major retrospectives of Swiss artists at the (unofficial) Swiss National Museum. Because Klodin Erb's (*1963) "Curtain Falls, Dog Barks" is a veritable firework display! However, here too (perhaps due to my age), I had to visit twice to process the abundance of work. After the opening, I shook my head: the frenetic pace! I didn't know how to reconcile the constant shifts in style and theme. It was as if Mephistopheles, whom I had already spotted at the entrance as "me and the other," was constantly chasing the artist. (Image). Yet, this was by no means my first encounter with Klodin Erb's work. I first noticed her in 1998 in Markus Stegmann's "Tissue Sample" at the Museum Allerheiligen in Schaffhausen, and I have followed her work closely ever since. Unforgettable, the «Wolf Lantern» in the Salle Poma of the Kunsthaus Pasquart in 2018! Or the dialogue exhibition in the small Museum Helen Dahm in Oetwil in 2022, which almost evoked an elective affinity.
On my second visit to Aarau—a beautiful Sunday afternoon with a moving costume and music performance by a group of young artists—I finally managed to experience the exhibition as a series of independent "narratives" by the same author without constantly searching for the common thread. Every bark of Cerberus in the courtyard, however, reminded me that art—and Klodin Erb's in particular—is another world, which Erb explores with virtuosity and immense versatility, but which always remains beyond the realm of reality. The dog at the entrance to the realm of the dead lets no one escape.
