Portrait

Everything is always so perfect when you are in it

I’ve started looking for you everywhere. Signs. In the reflective surfaces, in traffic lights, brake lights, light bulbs, light boxes, in cables and in wires. In ordered things and in disorder. A neatly arranged front yard. A broom. An antenna. As if everything were a kind of receptor, reflector. As if traffic cones were radio dials one could turn. As if everything were always meant just so. As if all one would have to do is put one’s ear to the shiny storefront surface and it would start talking. You would start talking. About the sculptural potential of electrical tubing, about lips over Hollywood, about weeds growing in concrete cracks and perfectly trimmed hedges. You said it was our jungle. You said it would take over again. You said garden shears are tools for people who have lived in cities too long. I will send you my Man Ray postcard depicting giant red lips floating above a silhouette landscape at dusk. “At the Hour of the Observatory: The Lovers, 1934 – 1938.” Of course the title is in French: “A l’heure de l’observatoire, les amoureux.” We don’t speak French, but it’s fun to pretend to. I will send you that postcard because only you would know what it means. This is not a riddle. I like stating the obvious. I have no secrets. I don’t expect you to read my mind, but I expect you to read clouds. The dappled ones in the left-hand corner. When there is wind, we get caught in the slipstream. All of our movements are choreographed, even the squinty eyes and the upward-turned pinky. This is how we walk through traffic, or rather, how traffic walks us. Sometimes I see your name on a doorbell. Sometimes I see your car. Sometimes I just want to get in and say “Memphis,” whereupon you would turn to me and start the engine. It isn’t all fantasies. I have proof. My archive is extensive; sorted by color, by shape, by texture, by division of light. There are parallels you wouldn’t believe. No, actually you would. Like the poodle wallpaper in Elvis’s bathroom. All you have to do is put your ear to the wall and it starts singing in a soothing low voice. You start singing. Everything is always so perfect when you are in it.

Josepha Conrad

Here some links to my recent activities – more content coming soon:

Anja Conrad (1971*) lives and works in Oberursel, Germany. She received her BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and her MFA in Photography and Related Media from the School of Visual Arts in New York City, where she studied under Joel Sternfeld. Her recent book of photographs “Everything is always so perfect when you are in it” was published by Kehrer Verlag in 2019.

Exhibitions:

Kunstforum Hermann Stenner
Obernstraße 48, 33602 Bielefeld
»Alle Wege sind offen« Fotografinnen auf Reisen
26.03. - 13.08.2023

Rosphoto
The State Russian Museum for Photography ROSPHOTO
»Everything is always so perfect when you are in it«
09.04. - 22.05.2019

Limited portfolio – edition:

Maybe the greatest Artspace in Austria
"Everything is always so perfect when you are in it"
3x Orginaldrucke (Barytpapier)

Recent book:

Kehrer Verlag, Heidelberg - Germany
»Everything is always so perfect when you are in it«
2019

Book review by Freddy Langer
Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung
23.05.2019