Silence’ or ‘The Forest Inside

My works are the outcome of the worlds I have crossed throughout my life. I was born in
Romania and in 1989 I witnessed the collapse of the communist system and the country’s
transition to a new set of values.
As an artist I have always worked in different media, but textiles have always been my
favourite medium due to the multiple ways in which they interact with light, air, time and, not
least, humans. I would like to create a series of 12 textile art
works (using natural fabrics and ‘Rongalite C’ type techniques) that will reflect my
encounters with ideas and people of the community .
In the past, I have created textile panels both as portraits and as expressions of ideas . The works created would be different and special in that they would
function as a collective mirror reflecting the community and its spirit.
The actual works could display anything from portraits to poetry or reflect my engagement
with current social topics or talks and lectures in the community . The artworks could be displayed
indoors or outside  gardens and open spaces.
Another distinct work that I would like to create is setting up a ‘reflection space’ called
‘Silence’ or ‘The Forest Inside’.

by Klaus Hensel



De la stat de la stat

Ni se trage ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

Ce ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

De la stat de la stat

Ce ni se trage

Ni se trage ce ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

De la stat de la stat

Ce ni se trage ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

Ni se trage ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

Ce ni se trage de la stat

De la stat de la stat

De la stat ni se trage

Ni se trage ce ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

De la stat de la stat

Ni se trage ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

Ce ni se trage de la stat

De la stat ce ni se trage

Ni se trage ce ni se trage

De la stat de la stat

De la stat de la stat

Ce ni se trage ni se trage*

*Liber ta ta ta tea

© 2011 Klaus Hensel

MY MOTHER'S SUITCASE
 For Sonja

1.
 March. On the train from Munich to Villach
 with a coach to Belgrade. Heading towards
 the Balkans, but only towards them, watch out
 or they'll be offended everyway on the way there.
 The general direction is right, as though it were
 a black-and-white movie, some site-specific
 art installation, intended to deceive visitors
 into believing there was some sort of depth there,
 which could be sounded out by images shown
 in the daily news. Art. Nobody can look inside
 your head, the images are real, mirrored by
 cells somewhat real. They're in the subtext -

2.
 On the train, I realize I'm traveling with my
 mother's suitcase. Same brand, same size.
 I had only noticed, after I read her name.
 This can't be true: I'm following in her footsteps,
 inherited the suitcase and the life she left behind,
 its remainder -

3.
 From the old notebook - wich I found in the boxes
 and packed, which I found at the Chiemsee
 years ago, wich I'd wanted to fill with words entirely,
 but wich is still empty - just now while that book
 is on my lap and the train happens to stopover
 at the Chiemsee en route to Zagreb and the staff
 serves the Palatschinke* and coffee that I'd ordered
 to my seat, a letter falls out -

On its envelope my mother's handwrigting: For Klaus.
 Sounds like "For Elise, Pour Adéle." Ludwig van, Chopin.

4.
 Dear Klaus, as I'm writing these lines, I'm trying to let
 a little bit of Christmas feeling come up there - unfortunately
 in vain! I feel nothin but sadness. I hope these surroundings
 may aid me in finding some peace, to forget that which
 leaves me no rest. I wish that the upcoming year will be
 a better year than your last -

P.S.
 The gift chosen for you was not a very good one.
 My apologies. Please accept the enclosed envelope
 as a compensation -

(c) 2018 

*
 (Palatschinke or Topfenpalatschinke is similar to pankake and common in Central and Eastern Europe as well as in Austria

Carve yourself a passage, love
 Your words, pitfalls
 Fertile, teeth
 White, stinger of the tongue -
 Open the flow of my blood, my skin and
 My legs, make me a blade.
 Close me
 Take me all the way and make me
 Pierrailles: Stones -
 Gravel, salt, sand -
 Return me, enter my
 Virgin Land, kill the tracks:
 Exchange me
 The path and the endings, delighted -
 I only become my
 Virgin Land, help me to join her -
 Over the abyss of eyes -
 Depth, make a pass:
 Know me
 (C) 2018