As soon as light enters a space, it falls not only on surfaces but also on history, use, order, and the question of who is even visible in that space. At the Kunsthalle Kempten, a walk-through collage made of cardboard, composed of architectural fragments, was created as part of the 15Hoch2 fellowship.
Roman grids, monastic structures, Baroque ornaments, bourgeois facades, and functional modernism are not presented chronologically but are spatially superimposed upon one another. Opposite the cardboard courtyard stands a digital projection of a modern city. It remains deserted until visitors cast their shadows upon it. The rendering depicts a future that has already erased its conflicts from the picture. Yet something about this light is not quite right. The smooth surface does not quite live up to its promise. The garden appears as a wearable costume, as a second system of order alongside the architecture. What grows is shaped. What could spread out is framed. In these fluid garden forms, it becomes clear that even nature does not exist outside the city, but is disciplined within it.
The Light Falls The Same Way Every Day, 2026
Nuremberg Central Station is located right next to the Kunsthaus and is considered one of the most dangerous train stations in Germany. For the “shift/walls” residency, we walked through the building and captured it as a point cloud. A point cloud consists of measurement points, each of which specifies a position in space. It does not contain any surfaces or objects. Where nothing was measured, the space remains empty. How dense an area becomes depends on where we walked and how close we were to it. In the two videos, virtual cameras move through this data, one moving forward, the other behind, against the direction of travel. All that can be seen are point clouds that thicken, thin out, and disappear.
Between the videos stands a miniature of the roof. It encompasses the part of the building to which we had no access and which we could not capture, and replaces the missing measurement points with a hand-built model. It is marked with a trail of dust. The dust serves as a special effect, an artificial deposit that gives the model a surface and a history it never had in this form.
One of the Top Ten Most Dangerous, 2026
As artists who also produce visualizations for commercial clients, we spend much of our time inside digital spaces that don't yet exist physically but already circulate, as pitches, sales promises, political proposals. These renderings don't just depict future architecture, they produce it. Materials get chosen because they simulate well; proportions follow the logic of a virtual camera. Often the built building later seems to do little more than confirm what the image had already decided.
We think of these digital architectures as hauntological spaces, held between design and reality, where potential, projection, and uncertainty coexist. They exist, but not fully. In this not-yet, the cracks in their mediality surface: surfaces seem to breathe, doors move without cause. These aren't effects in the usual sense, but signs the architecture stays suspended in becoming, haunted by expectation, as if the space briefly forgot it was only a simulation. The work pairs a film with cardboard, life-size cutouts, the kind of figures used in architectural visualizations to populate a place before anyone has moved in. Standing in the room, these paper bodies become stand-ins for whoever the space was imagined for.
Architects Never Fall in Love with Their Floorplan, 2026
Performance in the drone hall of the OHM Innovation Center, in collaboration with the Department of Mechanical Engineering and Mobile Robotics at OHM Nuremberg.
The project was funded as part of the Leonardo Center Nuremberg’s open call. The performance venue is not a neutral space, but rather a technical environment: a drone hall where systems are tested, optimized, calibrated, and checked for proper functioning. There, a situation arose in which function became not only practical, but also aesthetic, physical, and uncomfortable. At the center were a humanoid robot, a robot dog from Unitree Robotics, drones, and a remote-controlled mini-excavator. They functioned as operational units: devices that generated images, traveled paths, sought balance, and left traces behind.
When At Last The Work Is Done Pt. 1, 2026 - with Kasra Ghaffari
The exhibition shows what remains of the performance: video recordings from the machines’ perspective, damaged surfaces, traces of pressure, contact, and repetition. The boxes, which stand as a central floor installation in the room, were originally a test track for the humanoid robot. On them, a system practiced moving, stabilizing itself, and not falling. Along this path, it left traces: imprints of a body without flesh, a body designed to maintain its balance no matter what. Three mannequins, distributed throughout the space and modeled after the robots, served as dummies during the performance. In the exhibition, they appear as stand-ins: for performers, for bodies, for future users, for those who need not be named in technical experimental setups. They mark an absence and, at the same time, a shift between bodies that act, bodies that enable action, and those that now lie only where a body was once needed.
When At Last The Work Is Done Pt. 2, 2026 - with Kasra Ghaffari
Zones of Simulation, 2026 - stage, digital concept and virtual production for performance artist Mel Brinkmann
Pennavaria & Lanzinger
As soon as light enters a space, it falls not only on surfaces but also on history, use, order, and the question of who is even visible in that space. At the Kunsthalle Kempten, a walk-through collage made of cardboard, composed of architectural fragments, was created as part of the 15Hoch2 fellowship.
Roman grids, monastic structures, Baroque ornaments, bourgeois facades, and functional modernism are not presented chronologically but are spatially superimposed upon one another. Opposite the cardboard courtyard stands a digital projection of a modern city. It remains deserted until visitors cast their shadows upon it. The rendering depicts a future that has already erased its conflicts from the picture. Yet something about this light is not quite right. The smooth surface does not quite live up to its promise. The garden appears as a wearable costume, as a second system of order alongside the architecture. What grows is shaped. What could spread out is framed. In these fluid garden forms, it becomes clear that even nature does not exist outside the city, but is disciplined within it.
The Light Falls The Same Way Every Day, 2026
Nuremberg Central Station is located right next to the Kunsthaus and is considered one of the most dangerous train stations in Germany. For the “shift/walls” residency, we walked through the building and captured it as a point cloud. A point cloud consists of measurement points, each of which specifies a position in space. It does not contain any surfaces or objects. Where nothing was measured, the space remains empty; how dense an area becomes depends on where we walked and how close we were to it. In the two videos, virtual cameras move through this data, one moving forward, the other behind, against the direction of travel. All that can be seen are point clouds that thicken, thin out, and disappear.
Between the videos stands a miniature of the roof. It encompasses the part of the building to which we had no access and which we could not capture, and replaces the missing measurement points with a hand-built model. It is marked with a trail of dust. The dust serves as a special effect, an artificial deposit that gives the model a surface and a history it never had in this form.
Translated with
One of the Top Ten Most Dangerous, 2026
As artists who also produce visualizations for commercial clients, we spend much of our time inside digital spaces that don't yet exist physically but already circulate, as pitches, sales promises, political proposals. These renderings don't just depict future architecture, they produce it. Materials get chosen because they simulate well; proportions follow the logic of a virtual camera. Often the built building later seems to do little more than confirm what the image had already decided.
We think of these digital architectures as hauntological spaces, held between design and reality, where potential, projection, and uncertainty coexist. They exist, but not fully. In this not-yet, the cracks in their mediality surface: surfaces seem to breathe, doors move without cause. These aren't effects in the usual sense, but signs the architecture stays suspended in becoming, haunted by expectation, as if the space briefly forgot it was only a simulation. The work pairs a film with cardboard, life-size cutouts, the kind of figures used in architectural visualizations to populate a place before anyone has moved in. Standing in the room, these paper bodies become stand-ins for whoever the space was imagined for.
Architects Never Fall in Love with Their Floorplan, 2026
Performance in the drone hall of the OHM Innovation Center, in collaboration with the Department of Mechanical Engineering and Mobile Robotics at OHM Nuremberg.
The project was funded as part of the Leonardo Center Nuremberg’s open call. The performance venue is not a neutral space, but rather a technical environment: a drone hall where systems are tested, optimized, calibrated, and checked for proper functioning. There, a situation arose in which function became not only practical, but also aesthetic, physical, and uncomfortable. At the center were a humanoid robot, a robot dog from Unitree Robotics, drones, and a remote-controlled mini-excavator. They functioned as operational units: devices that generated images, traveled paths, sought balance, and left traces behind.
When At Last The Work Is Done Pt. 1, 2026 - with Kasra Ghaffari
The exhibition shows what remains of the performance: video recordings from the machines’ perspective, damaged surfaces, traces of pressure, contact, and repetition. The boxes, which stand as a central floor installation in the room, were originally a test track for the humanoid robot. On them, a system practiced moving, stabilizing itself, and not falling. Along this path, it left traces: imprints of a body without flesh, a body designed to maintain its balance no matter what. Three mannequins, distributed throughout the space and modeled after the robots, served as dummies during the performance. In the exhibition, they appear as stand-ins: for performers, for bodies, for future users, for those who need not be named in technical experimental setups. They mark an absence and, at the same time, a shift between bodies that act, bodies that enable action, and those that now lie only where a body was once needed.
When at Last The Work Is Done Pt. 2, 2026 - with Kasra Ghaffari
Zones of Simulation, 2026 - stage, digital concept and virtual production for performance artist Mel Brinkmann
