About the drawings of Christiane Löhr
The lines grow out of the paper, extending as far as the edge of the sheet. They melt away into an intricate filigree web that appears to reach out beyond the surface defined by the paper. Spreading like tendrils they scan the space delimited by the white paper that they both respect and yet transgress. Sometimes there are but a few lines, almost systematically bisecting the surface; at other times they proliferate almost uncontrollably, becoming entangled in nodes, before striving for the edge of the sheet. The pencil drawings by Christiane Löhr are like to tender melodies that soar up and vanish into the ether, or the song of the lark that spirals ever upwards to harmonize with the music of the heavens. more
The marks left by the oil pastels on the handmade paper are more strident, and the suppleness of the lines more pronounced. Yet it is barely discernible which stroke lies to the foreground and which to the back. Thus one can perceive the blank spaces between the black network of lines as white flashes of light. An interplay of light and darkness, of front and back, of surface and line captivates our attention. A labyrinth of possibilities lures our eye beyond the edge of the picture.
There are drawings by American minimalists, who in their later works liberated themselves from the austerity of the nearly-nothing and the hard-edges, that are modeled on forms from nature. Brice Marden named an aquatint series after the gardens of Suzhou; lithographs by Ellsworth Kelly are veritable botanical studies; Robert Mangold's drawings feature floral elements. Christiane Löhr, whose sculptures are created from grasses, blossoms and seeds, has taken a diametrically opposite path. Her drawings are abstract signs, but even the most abstract of signs cannot gainsay nature as the guide to all knowlegde.