portfolio 8

Klaus Kinold. Panorama
10 Photographs

Portfolio 1986

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Sylt, Coastal Shallows, 1982

gelatin silver print

14,5 x 45,3 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Fuerteventura, Canary Islands, Mountain Panorama with Road, 1982

gelatin silver print

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Modena, San Cataldo Cemetry (Aldo Rossi), 1984

gelatin silver print

14,7 x 45,3 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Emilia Romagna, Street Scene, 1985

gelatin silver print

14,5 x 45,5 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

New York, Fork in Street, 1981

gelatin silver print

14,7 x 45,8 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Munich, Isar Bridge, 1983

gelatin silver print

14,7 x 45,8 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

New York, Courtyard Facade, 1981

gelatin silver print

15 x 46 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Bologna, Park, 1985

gelatin silver print

14,7 x 45,7 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Racine, Johnson Wax Factory (Frank Lloyd Wright), 1983

gelatin silver print

14,8 x 46 cm

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

KLAUS KINOLD (*1939)

Versailles, Stairways in Palace Park, 1984

gelatin silver print

© Rudolf Kicken Galerie, Cologne 1986 / Courtesy Kicken Berlin

 

Viewing the panorama photographs of Klaus Kinold is possible by two alternative approaches: that which is close up, and limited, or the comprehensive, from a distance which is too great. In one case we must allow the gaze to glide in order to be able to assimilate everything. In the other, although we see the whole picture at once, it is at the expense of exactitude. The details escape our view, and we return to the first visual approach.
This remains unsatisfying, because it withholds from us the totality. A certain tension arises, however, for our powers of memory continually attempt to complete that which is missing. The areas outside the field of vision are imagined into it, and thus, in the end, a total picture does come into being. Additionally, the complex mode of appropriation leads to our having what has been seen especially intensely registered in our head.
Klaus Kinold's manner of photographing is an emphatically intellectual process, one which takes cognizance of nothing unconscious. The motifs have been selected with utter determination; they harbor no secrets and do not touch upon the emotions. Immobility is one of their most important characteristics, something which could be constructed as coldness, and to a limited extent this is indeed the case. Klaus Kinold's photographs makes them not only aesthetically memorable, but also confers upon them a distinct and singular significance.
Without doubt, this is a result of the unusual format, for it brings about a certain reversal: because the lateral boundaries recede, the horizon appears to be shifted closer to us. The broader visual field narrows the depth, it is not lost to the indefinite. Movement which otherwise tends to retreat is transformed into just the opposite. Image and eye meet close together, tightly bound.
That the landscape offers the most appropriate subject matter for the panorama is easily recognized. The natural and the artificial horizontality complement each other wonderfully. Kinold enhances this principle additionally in that he minimizes the angle of distortion and often places his subject flat within the picture (the mountain panorama in Fuerteventura, coastal shallows of Sylt, courtyard facade in New York, Isar bridge in Munich). The few vertical elements intensify, rather than reduce, the dominance of the other direction. The harmony between format, subject and composition is complete here, but also seemingly open. The subject has been selected for the format, and not the opposite.
More exciting, yet also less ideal, are those photographs where space has been recorded at an angle. Among them are the architectural scenes, simpler because they indicate clear and discrete points receding off the sides. The subject does not vascillate, which could easily be the case considering the dominant width. This applies to the castle stairway of Versailles and the Johnson Wax Factory by Frank Lloyd Wright, which we can view here uncropped and free of distortion.
The New York street scene benefits as well through a similar synthesis of its structure. Because it exhibits more free space than architecture, it is opened to us; for the first time we have the impression that we are allowed to expand, complete and alter the scenery according to our desires. Life can penetrate. Without loss to precision or exactitude, a situation arises here that does not encourage the void, the ordered state of emptiness.
Just the opposite, finally, are the relationships in the photograph depicting groups of figures. The arrangement of people attempts to take over that which space, here become amorphous, is no longer able to fulfill. Although we trace in the invisible coordinates and establish connections, the result is despite this other than before. The grouping of the people does not demonstrate that principle which appears to justify the format selected (we recall in this connection that the extended cinemascope screen was introduced without success to film audience). Obviously, other criteria must now be applied.
It helps additionally that these scenes seem peculiarly familiar to us, not only because of their everydayness, but – we realize with astonishment – because they are in accordance with out ordinary angle of vision. What we see is the familiar, disordered slice of life. We discover then that the extreme formats of Klaus Kinold are not at all so remarkable as we originally thought them to be. Basically, they oblige our habit of letting the glance play off to the side, while less often raising or lowering it. We seek additional orientation horizontally more frequently than vertically. It is only when we have discovered a clearly delineated, non-random motif that our ability to perceive narrows itself down to the known format in the golden triangle. We then no longer see the natural situation, but a picture conforming to traditional artistic laws. But it is just these that Klaus Kinold does not want to confirm to.
Although at first glance not counted among the most accessible of Kinold's photographs, the street scene in the Emilia Romagna was the one that finally excited me the most. It suggests some indefinable expectation. Something was supposed to happen. Since the horizon is constant, as almost always in Kinold's images, it is possible for something additional to enter only from the scene form the right, while a car draws into the picture from the left. Both persist then in fixed position. Naturally, this association is clichéed, it has been evoked so often by films. A scene familiar to us form the cinema is filled by a treatment we believe to be typical for it. However, what actually takes place is quite unessential – only the occurence itself is worthy of consideration. It shows that the seemingly so complete pictures of Klaus Kinold are not necessarily so. They allow themselves to be enlarged. Regardless of wherever the impulse to take possession originates from, whether out of aversion or attraction, it brings along unexpected discoveries.
It is appropriate to speak of a surreal atmosphere in the photographs of Klaus Kinold – we sense more in them than that which is communicated by the visible. If, however, we insinuate that these photographs disassociate themselves from reality in favor of an overly severe fixation, with the intention of disclosing profound or enigmatic truths, this would mean taking reality merely as a point of departure, causing it to be in danger of serving only as pretext. It would, however, dissolve the references we have observed up until now. I no not believe it is a matter of predominant importance for Klaus Kinold to want to dismiss a second level of meaning in deference to the first. For, what is special in his work lies in the balance between that ordering view upon that which is conditioned by reality, resulting in a peacefulness, and the latent question about the permanence of the situation. How long can that which is artfully arrested really last?
This reflection leads directly back to reality. We are not released from it, or even enraptures by it. Because neither the extraordinary, nor anything trivial is sought by Klaus Kinold, allowing for a transformation, he remains a singular precise observer of reality. His is not the art of evasion. (Text by Klaus-Jürgen Sembach)

This portfolio contains ten original photographs signed by the artist.
It is published in a limited edition of fifty numbered copies, and ten artist's proof in Roman numerals. The photographs were taken with a Linhof-Technorama camera, 6 x 17 cm, on Agfa Pan 400 roll-film. They were printed on Agfa Rekord Rapid paper and processed to archival standard by Susanne Trappmann under the supervision of Klaus Kinold.