Text by Wolfgang Ullrich
The new paintings by Josefine Schulz show scenes outdoors. Mostly in wide landscapes. There are no houses, but there are cars time and again. There are people in some of the paintings, and at least one dog in all of them. Overall, there are many more dogs than people in the exhibition. As ceramics, they even populate the floor: as if they had come out of the pictures to become even more real, even more present.
The landscapes have strong colors, which appear all the more intense because Josefine Schulz paints large areas and reduces her subjects to a few elements with gestural strokes. This renunciation of the incidental lends her pictures great conciseness. They therefore have the character of formulas. But what do they stand for? What do they mean?
Until a few years ago, the fact that Josefine Schulz’s skies often glow orange would have been a reliable source of romantic feelings. Now, however, it’s more of a source of fear. The images shown in California in September 2020 or New York in the summer of 2023, where everything was bathed in such orange because of ash particles in the air discolored the light - the result of huge forest fires and thus climate change - are too strong in our minds. In “Champagne Supernova”, the largest work in the exhibition, thirteen dogs stand under the bright orange sky in a meadow with trees, either individually or in small groups. Old depictions of Noah Arc come to mind: animals gathering to be saved from destruction. But there is neither Arc nor Noah in the picture. Only the dogs, but in a variety of breeds. Have the humans perhaps already disappeared? did they leave the planet to the dogs? And what would it be like if they took over? Could that even be a new utopia?
After all, Josefine Schulz’s dogs seem sweet, are in a good mood and some are even ‘cute’. In contrast, the people seem restless and tired. Unlike in the artist’s earlier pictures, they no longer seem to enjoy driving convertibles and being out in nature; they no longer believe in the promises of boundless freedom that have long been associated with road trips. And the fact that some of the titles (such as “Champagne Supernova” and “Thelma & Louise”) evoke the pop culture of the carefree 90s, the time between the fall of the Berlin Wall and Nine Eleven, makes us even more aware of what has been lost. The people in Josefine Schulz’s pictures may be restlessly searching for this better past, but they are already as exhausted and discouraged by it as they are by their fears for the future, which do not only stem from the orange skies.
In this situation, dogs are more of a comforter than ever. People have them on their laps or take them with them on their travels. And even though they may be tiny, they are always the focus of the scene. In “Crossroads”, a puppy even appears only in the wing mirror of a car, but two women have risen from their seats specifically so that they can see it better. And while a couple driving through the rain in “Dream Baby Dream” seems resignedly aimless, the puppy in the back of the car appears lively. Isn’t it directing what’s happening?
No question: every dog, no matter how small, is a ‘main character’ in Josefine Schulz’s work! Everyone acts as if they know they are the center of attention, loved and needed. The dogs enjoy playing the leading role, they know no fear of the future, and they retain their light-heartedness and zest for life. Josefine Schulz’s pictures and ceramics therefore allow us to speculate about what might come after the Anthropocene. She seduces us into the completely new idea that an age ruled by dogs, a Cynocene, could be one of the best amidst all the bad possibilities.