One of the greatest joys of graphic art is illusion. It is of particular importance, as—unlike painting, it works primarily with line. This is particularly true for intaglio techniques before the invention of aquatint: in order to depict spatiality, every indentation and elevation, every fold and reflection, every nuance of tone and color, every contrast and highlight, every shadow and shimmer must be conveyed through lines. Since such phenomena do not appear as lines in reality, translating them into a linear matrix represents a highly abstract feat of transformation. Even the rendering of surfaces—whether smooth, reflective, curved, or grained—already poses a dimensional challenge (from line to surface). More demanding still is the shift from surface to space. Most virtuosic, however, is the illusory skill of simulating textures through a web of lines in the depiction of fleeting volumes like clouds, fire, foliage, fabric, hair, smoke, water—or more broadly: movement. For such illusions, graphic art must rely on effect.
Theatre, too, delights in illusion. It plays a central role here, since theatre is keenly aware of the immediacy of its performers, its materiality, and the atmosphere of a space shared with the audience. Just like in graphic art, ephemeral phenomena often must be simulated by means of effect. Set design, makeup, performance, and costumes are the theatre’s tools to create comparable illusions on stage. Both art forms—printmaking and theatre—share the aim of describing the fleeting through effects, and both are acutely aware of their audience, which is expressed in their pronounced frontal orientation: in theatre through direct address to the spectators, and in printmaking through the absolute compression of space onto a flat surface. Technique and effect are always tightly interwoven. In contrast to graphic art, however, theatre places special emphasis on materiality as a means of underscoring the artificiality of the spectacle: fabric, with its tactile sensuality, plays a pivotal role. It dresses the actors and transforms them into pictorial figures (abstracting them into elements of composition), and it is used choreographically (as curtain, drapery, or prop) to structure transitions, spark curiosity, and celebrate the mechanics of illusion in all its material presence.
Cédric Eisenring, in my view, works like a choreographer with a love for graphic art. His velvet images bring forth various figures from the world of printmaking—many of them with an eccentricity that reveals their own sense of mission or that of a director. They demand to be seen or are at least staged in such an exaggerated manner that they clearly communicate a message to an audience. A particular interest again lies in illusion through the depiction of the non-representable. States such as sleep or inebriation—experiences that are not inherently visual but experienced from within—are embodied through heightened gestures of stillness. Other characters perform music with exalted gestures, though the sound of their playing seems to be absorbed by the velvet of the images. Music, too, is among the phenomena that graphic art can only make perceptible through effect. And finally, two figures seek direct contact with us—the viewers—by drawing back a curtain.
Scaling these motifs onto fabric brings forth several effects: velvet evokes associations with the (supposed?) elegance and sensual excess of theatre. Stretched over a wooden frame, the artwork flirts with painting and thus employs yet another theatrical strategy—namely that of travesty as a celebration of artificiality and bold assertion. Transferring graphic themes into this travesty of painting makes the effects of printmaking palpable. Line drawings—originally created through an almost alchemical process involving acid, water, and various metals—reveal their illusory ingenuity when enlarged on velvet. The lines become surfaces that are both visually and tactilely perceptible. Their impact is further heightened by affect, as the seductive materiality of the embossed textile creates atmosphere. The fragmentation of motifs through fabric patches prevents full immersion in pictorial illusion. It emphasises that these are technical effects, used to generate an artificial space. In this very delight in artificiality lies the true magic of both graphic art and theatre—even if, formally, they could hardly be more contradictory.
— Otto Bonnen
A Velvet Glove Cast in Iron is Cédric Eisenring’s (b. 1983, Aarau, Switzerland) fourth solo exhibtion at Drei. He graduated from ZHdK, Zurich, in 2014. The most recent solo exhibitions include Fäustling, Kirchgasse, Steckborn; Puder, Stadtgalerie, Bern; Liste, Basel (with Drei) (all 2024); Superdream, Drei, Cologne; pink/ green light, Kirchgasse, Steckborn (both 2021); Signal to Noise, Drei, Cologne and Frieze, New York (2019); and Cédric Eisenring, Aargauer Kunsthaus, Aarau (2018). He furthermore contributed to exhibitions at Bechtler Stiftung, Uster; Argauer Kunsthaus, Aarau (both 2024); Kunsthalle Zurich; Helmhaus Zürich (both 2023); Museum im Bellpark, Luzern (2020); Drei, Cologne, Haus Konstruktiv, Zurich (both 2019); Francesca Pia, Zurich; Bel Ami, Los Angeles (both 2018); and Forde, Geneve (2017) a.o.
