Hannelore Teutsch

The special tone of Hannelore Teutsch's pictures has something of the silence of a person who can see with closed eyes and listen attentively, who thus sets the process of a transference in motion, touching the unconscious, piece by piece, fragmentary, moment-by-moment, without claiming to be complete, but meticulous in assembling shards of soul mirrors. 

Those who know how to read the signs discover strange things – such as an annunciation angel on a motorbike (Die ruhlosen Wege / The Restless Paths, 2015), an energy crisis-stricken repository search officer (2011) or a blue magic ball in a garden hideout (Die blaue Kugel / The Blue Ball, 2020). A lot happens without it being possible to analyse everything down to the last detail. Whether layman or expert, one can simply take in these images, immerse oneself in them and be touched. 

Hannelore Teutsch is not alone in this attitude. There is a specific Berlin rootstock from which names can be derived that speak of uniqueness in the context of the regional, whose pictures sometimes sounded dark, as in the case of Ernst Schroeder, sometimes fresh, light, spun with drawings, as in the case of Werner Heldt, who combined meditative minimalism and quiet power, as in the pictures of Hans Otto Schmidt, or who, as in the case of Konrad Knebel, devoted themselves leitmotively to the façade of the house, this greyed coat of the years and the "language of stones". 

The elegiac melody of longing that rises from these positions meanders far behind the artist's pictorial horizon. But it is there and in a certain way binds the special tour that Hannelore Teutsch allows herself.