The sky the same

In this series of pictures, which began in 2014 and was triggered by a trip to Sinai, Katharina Stumm deals with the view of heaven that is important to her. Whether above the rooftops of the city or the eternal horizon in the desert, day or night, cloudless or brewing a thunderstorm, the view into the sky triggers a feeling of freedom and at the same time security

With tea, lacquer, ink, oil or acrylic paint, she creates landscapes that, despite their abstraction, create a clear image of the horizon, with one world below and another above.

Works from the series

Parallel poetry to heaven


So, myth: A story that is not 100% true. But also not lying, so truths are translated. Overwritten with other truths, or more precisely: occupied with other roles. I have this one fact: I like to drink a lot, it makes the world more bearable and sometimes even edible. I have now found someone who does the same. We can do this together and the world is a celebration.

Let's take these roles: Me, He, the wine, the world, life, enjoyment

Let's look for replacement roles. The pleasure is the sunlight refracted by the clouds.

Life is the sky with its clouds, the sun, its rises and sunsets, storms and rain and smog and heat and cold.

The world is a big city with a full, thriving center and vacancy in the outskirts. There are subway and bus and restaurants and pubs and traffic jams and parks and shops and tall houses and gaps and homeless and hipsters and banks and theatres and museums and everything there is in cities.

It is a street in this city, a busy, tidy street, with parking lots and sidewalks, street lights and house encrates, gullies and potholes. Several roads cross it and a curve also makes it.

I am me, whether I am a fly, a cat or a house, a car or a human is up to you.

What exactly happens now with these roles is not important. The street, in the city is under the sky and sometimes, on not quite clear days, the sun shimmers through the clouds and warms the concrete. People come out and sit on chairs at tables and talk and laugh and drink café and wine and beer and some eat something and others throw garbage between cars, kick cigarettes and spit on the floor. I'm no different, I get to know all this, see, feel and hear what the sun that breaks through the clouds does to the people, animals and roads. Also what she does with me. Deep inside me something begins to sparkle.

Especially the one street in the city is very busy, at the intersections with the other streets there are large crowds of joyful people at the corners.

A young handsome man smokes his hashish cigarette and the street breathes through, the joints between the cobblestones become a bit further. A young woman with high shoes spills her sparkling wine, which lays like an ointment over the pores of the concrete. Details about the dogs and birds that can't stand it to the park I'll spare you.

So I meet this street, we have known each other for a long time, have been part of this city for years.

We have already experienced the sunlight together, but lost sight of us, as is the case in a big city, but then we came back to each other's minds, at a corner in one day at a time our paths met. It was in the spring, you could not have guessed what the rest of the year would bring. The sun has warmed its concrete, for years the winters are no longer as cold and wet as they used to be.

One night

It all starts with a sunset. The sun disappears in the west behind the chain of houses and darkness comes up the streets from the east. I don't notice anything about it, I'm sitting in my room with a north window. There is a light wind that blows through the leaves and over car roofs, through hair and over bare shoulders.

The sky is cloudless and from behind a mud grey slides over it.

The street lights come on, I hardly see any difference in the brightness of the natural and artificial light. Until I suddenly notice it.

The blue of the sky quickly becomes darker behind a light-reflecting fog.

I have my north window open and feel the air outside decrease in temperature, but the ground and the streets still radiate warm on bare legs in short skirts and trousers.

The air becomes almost moist because of all the freshness and lays like a film on all surfaces. The sky gets a metal glow.

The sounds change, even in my room. Friends have come, with rhythmic sounds glasses are lifted from the table and set down, forks touch plates and tongues, it is cheed and smured, laughed and talked.

In front of the window it gets cooler and the dark always blacker (behind the light-reflecting fog)

The lights behind the other windows become less, the light of the street lamps is pure, with straight edges.

I close my north window and close the curtain.

The wind has settled, the air is still between the houses, few noises and movements attract attention. The moon moves from one side of the road to the other and disappears again behind a backdrop of chimneys.

The nebula has almost dissolved and makes a few stars flash high up in the east you can already see the color change rising to the south.

I could see that when I open my north window and look up, but I don't. Inside and outside are too different for me to dare to do that.

The sky gets bright quickly, the wind is cool, the air seems to remember yesterday's state and gets warm.

So the night has creed by.