Conversation with Andreas Fuchs (12 Feb 2021)
Axel Plöger:
I have always searched for this powerful freedom in painting—something I found in de Kooning—while at the same time setting a clear frame against it.
Andreas Fuchs:
Do you mean the frame in terms of exhibition context, or the physical frame of the painting?
AP:
Both. The frame is the encounter with the space in which I exhibit, and with the viewer. It is an external form that counteracts the image.
AF:
But the frame also limits.
AP:
Yes, exactly. It’s like masking off parts of a painting: you create a free, dynamic structure, and then when you remove the tape, a sharp edge appears. Something happens in that moment. Or when you place a white frame over a painting—you isolate a section, focus attention, and impose a strong external form. The boundary creates precision.
AF:
But if you use a passe-partout, you also hide parts of the image. The painting continues beneath it. That’s why I was surprised in your exhibition Strong (2020): your paintings seemed to extend beyond themselves, and then you framed them.
AP:
That’s exactly why I like it. The frame intensifies the painting. It sharpens what I want to say. Of course, the image continues beyond it—my work is part of an ongoing process, sometimes over months, across multiple paintings. But the frame allows me to make a statement.
AF:
So you’re saying it marks the end of the process?
AP:
Yes. It’s a moment of precision. I could continue painting, but at some point I decide: this is the image, this is my statement. Like a song—it needs clarity and decision. Even though much of my work is intuitive and emotional, this moment of definition is crucial.
AF:
When multiple paintings are installed together, they begin to speak to one another. Does the frame help maintain their independence, or does it interfere?
AP:
The hanging is an extension of the frame. There is the image, the frame, the wall, and then the space. I tend toward clear geometric arrangements. The clearer the installation, the stronger the painting.
Some artists paint beyond the edges or onto the wall. I could do that, but it doesn’t correspond to my approach. Painting happens within the image. The frame gives structure—it’s essential for me.
AF:
Your paintings often appear very dense. There are many layers, yet little illusion of depth. How do you think about space?
AP:
There are three aspects: space, layering, and density. My paintings come forward; they don’t open up like a window into depth. They are close to the surface, like in Van Gogh.
But when I speak of colour space, I mean what happens between colours. Colour always creates space—an inner, moving space that approaches the viewer.
AF:
What happens at the edges is fascinating. Sometimes the margins reveal more than the centre.
AP:
Yes. I never paint fully to the edge. There are always zones where you can see underlying layers. Each surface consists of multiple strata. This shimmering, this layering, creates the space I’m interested in. You can sense the history of the painting, especially at the edges.
AF:
So painting becomes a form of narration?
AP:
Yes, but not in a literal sense. Someone like Per Kirkeby relates layers to geology—sediments. For me, it’s more autobiographical. Experiences accumulate in the process and remain as traces. What we see is only the surface of a long development.
AF:
Which artists have influenced you most?
AP:
Willem de Kooning had a profound impact—his colour, his process. Also artists like Jackson Pollock, Franz Kline, and Max Beckmann. The idea of working on a painting over long periods, building and removing layers, is central to my work.
AF:
How do you begin a painting?
AP:
Very differently from someone like Agnes Martin. I don’t wait for clarity—I enter the process directly. The blank canvas is never really blank; it carries everything I’ve done before. I begin, stop, continue. Over time, something emerges.
AF:
When is a painting finished?
AP:
It’s not a rational decision. I’m searching for a certain presence, a kind of sound. When I come close to that, I pause. The painting is set aside and observed over time. If it holds, it’s finished.
AF:
Do older works still resonate with you?
AP:
Very often. Some gain strength over time. Others I repaint years later. Distance allows me to truly see them.
AF:
You speak about “sound” in your paintings. Is there a connection to music?
AP:
Absolutely. I often use musical terms—rhythm, harmony, chords. I’m especially interested in contemporary music that works with noise and open structures. It creates a similar sense of space as painting.
AF:
Could your paintings be translated into music?
AP:
Possibly. I think they could function as a kind of graphic notation—layers, rhythms, tonal structures are clearly present.
AF:
You’ve also worked figuratively—portraits, landscapes. Why move toward abstraction?
AP:
The figurative phases were part of a search. I wanted to understand what underlies abstraction—landscape, for example. Even today, landscape informs my work, but I don’t consider myself a landscape painter.
AF:
Thank you for the conversation.