Without knowing much about architecture, what I find fascinating is that it is one of the forms of art that its artists can layer with the fantastical and still deliver a direct utility. Of course, most architects and architecture do not work toward abstraction; instead, they look at the medium as one for function and form. Still, when an architect or starchitect is given license to follow their imagination, in the form of a building, truly inspiring visions are translated from fleeting dreams into stone, cement, rebar, and undulating adornment. That last quality is debatable in many cases. As Adolf Loos once suggested,  “Ornament is crime”. In the case of Günther Domenig and his Domenig Steinhaus, situated in Steindorf am Ossiacher, Austria, it would be hard to argue that the site displays ornament. Yet, it remains fantastical nonetheless in its sheer form.

Where it would be easy to lump the building into a type of brutalism, I feel that its sharp interior edges defy the blunt characteristics that often enable brutalist structures to be reminiscent of war bunkers-huge immobile and heavy blocks of concrete that are best suited to defend against raining artillery and enemy advance, over that of consideration toward air, light, and the prism effect of shadows changing their position from within the structure as the day extends into night. With the Domenig Steinhaus, one feels the enormity of the concrete material, but seeing how it interlaces at strange improbable angles with a piece of the building jutting across other parts of its interior at competing right angles suggests something more like a porcupine in terms of how one might read the armament features of its interior. I keep returning to an analogy of the shrike, a bird known for impaling its kill on thorns and sharp branches to preserve the remains over time, as if allowed to descend to the earth, all manner of life will devour what is left. The shrike instead presents an open-air cooling system. Though Domenig’s building does not show as such from the outside, the atrium of right angles inside does give the effect of shattered glass when viewing the light that pierces it, creating these penetrating shadows.

From the outside, the building does share characteristics of brutalism. Heavy concrete slabs defy their material shape and gravity. The outside’s form looks brutal, but also a little bit as if it were culled from the prospect of the “futurism” that enabled such questions between the 60s and the 1990s. In this capacity, one wonders if brutalism could ever evolve based on the conditions of the present future- a sorely dissipating notion that a future is likely. From what I can tell, themes of ecology were not often part of the brutalist milieu, even if themes of armageddon and militaristic realities were. The Domenig house speaks more about ecology given its place on the idyllic shores of Lake Ossiach.

With Stoned, the recent artist book publication by eminent German artist Joachim Brohm, in conjunction with editor and collaborator Alexander Rosenkranz, the Domenig Steinhaus becomes an exercise in graphism. I specifically use that term because, with the intervention of Brohm’s color images reverted to monochrome inversions, the images take on something closer to a drawing than a photograph. This is intentional, as it gives the impression of Domenig Steinhaus’s material value, namely the grey sludgy concrete that performs the angles and gravity alike. The images are reduced to an unruly and uncanny symmetry. This is also due to Rosenkranz’s use of a photocopy machine to produce the extensive oversized results. The wire bind of the book reminding one of the Arts Metiers Graphiques books from the 1930s, giving the impression of something approaching a functional manual or retaining a book object that presents utility in binding choice over that of the standard issue OTA bind prevalent in other books that crossover between photography and architecture, the reason being to keep the photographic image intact. Here, the wire binding sutures the two halves of the building together in a form that inherently refers to material. It is a utility choice, but it also enables the book to be read as much for the content as for the design and production.

This is not Brohm’s first dalliance with architecture. It is one of his main facets in making work, though he is often considered as producing images that reflect German post-war and post-industrial history. The artist has several titles that refer to architecture. His book Areal, published by Steidl in 2003, remains one of the more underrated books that discuss site, architecture, corporate landscapes, and the changing nature of site-based durational work. It remains a significant title in his oeuvre. It should not be overlooked for Ruhr and Ohio, two other incredible titles published by Steidl, but that burden his output by being the more prominently placed books, when his whole history of book-making should not be undervalued. Brohm remains a well-respected but criminally underrepresented artist.

With Stoned, the collaboration with Rosenkranz continues, and I applaud the artist book version of Brohm’s work. It is playful and provides an excellent outlet for an artist with a sincere amount of unpublished work to evade the constraints of a diminished photobook landscape. This will be the future for many artists who want to work in the book form. As prices rise and kill off enthusiasm for publishers, we will be left to find the spirit of experimentation that the 2010s encouraged along with greater productions with mainstay publishers. The market is teetering, and the prices for materials are soaring, so this is likely where many of us will head over the coming years. Though it is not ideal, I think with people like Rosenkranz around to inspire artists like Brohm to give a more experimental form a chance, we will find ourselves in a winning position to produce work that will function more and more as an art object and not a fetish point commodity. 78 copies; where’s yours?

Joachim Brohm

Stoned

Br-ed

Stoned

Edited and printed by
Alexander Rosenkranz
on Konica Minolta Bizhub 220

Large-sized zine:
42 x 30 cm, 80 pages, O-Wire binding

Design: Heike Nehl, Moniteurs, Berlin
Scans: Mateusz Dworczyk, Fotohof > Archiv, Salzburg
Binding: Heiko Marré, Petersberg

Published by BR-ED, Leipzig 2024
Edition of 78 copies, each signed and numbered