Henry Schulz: People Things, copyright 2024
Publisher: Buchkunst Berlin
Language: deutsch, englisch
Essay: Garry Badger
Concept, Design: Ana Druga, Thomas Gust
Rarely has a book appealed to me as much and as directly as Henry Schulz's People Things.
The calm, the almost peaceful compositions, but with a certain unease lurking in the subtext.
During the 2020-2022 Covid lockdown, countless and unspeakable photographs of the now deserted and abandoned places popped up, making you wish they had been overrun again yesterday rather than today. Most of these works had nothing to say; although they documented a condition, an extraordinary situation, very few of them went beyond interchangeable description. There was a lack of dialogue; deserted streets and temporarily abandoned places can also be found on a Sunday morning.
Henry Schulz's works are not to be placed decidedly in this series; I find it more of a coincidence that he dealt with the subject at that time. Schulz is interested in the supposedly small man-made things. Ladders on fruit trees, a collection of high seats, high-voltage power lines that stretch for stretching for kilometres across fields. Henry Schulz's work in "People Things" goes beyond pure aesthetic documentation. By focussing on seemingly inconspicuous, man-made things, he gives us an insight into the everyday traces we leave behind as a society. Now, one could argue that these observations are interesting enough in isolation, but Henry Schulz adds another layer, a subtle subtext, to his compositions. another level, a subtle subtext to his compositions.
A climbing frame on a playground, already slightly worn, has been there for several decades. for several decades, with an equally worn bench behind it. Branches lean against a tree. Again: not only the obvious human construction, but also the empty space that was needed to build this playground plays a role.
Abandoned stelae, remains of a former factory building. "Forgotten" to be dismantled, maybe a relic from GDR times, perhaps an old hangar of the Soviet army. But these are not the only human remains, the small conifers, lined up in rows, did not grow like this, they were planted at some point to grow in this arrangement. Human structures, made of metal, concrete, glass, asphalt always require a destruction or at least a modification of existing nature. Sometimes I think the Germans in particular have a penchant for paving over every millimetre of their land, giving every every square with an often unnecessary significance. Roads have to be separated by bollards, seating areas under trees have to have 3 metre high steel barriers.
Not only do we see residential and office buildings, but the meticulously planted trees with their white trunks and dark branches also fit into the modern construct. branches fit perfectly into the modern structure. Every angle, every centimetre has been planned here. Planners and architects sat here at tables and constructed this arrangement, only for it to remain deserted in the end. "No trespassing".
In his essay, Gerry Badges compared Schulz's work to installations, "a collection of objects that caught his attention". I would disagree with this, as installations require active and direct intervention by the artist. Rather, I see his works as a classic contemporary document, not so much located in times of a pandemic and a lockdown. His work is detached from a time frame.