Galerie Maubert presents Erik Nussbicker’s second solo exhibition in its Parisian space. Palingenesis explores twenty years of artistic practice, particularly in graphic work, showcasing several previously unseen series of ink drawings on mulberry paper, created with brushstrokes featuring the human skeleton. These works are accompanied, among others, by the Carnyx, a signal horn, and singing bowls cast from bronze cranial caps, as well as the first video of the Vox Catacombae project and the De bois morts sculptures.

When the bone sees the light of day,

the rogue waves of our emotions

inscribe the ineffable on the epitaph of the moment.

‘‘Washi paper, made from mulberry fibers, bears a resemblance to the connective tissues that cover all organs and bones, also known as fasciae. These delicate membranes convey energy and information while preserving the harmony of our body’s tensegrity structure. Mulberry pulp (Kozo) fully embodies the capabilities of the vegetal world. This material invites an exploration of phenomena rooted in fluid mechanics, particularly the principle of capillarity and its molecular interactions. It breathes and initiates the movement of ink beyond any intention of control. Here, no neurons are needed to think or act—only a simple presence in the world. This vegetal form of unified consciousness challenges us to reconsider our modes of existence. 

As for the ink, it spreads unknowingly, like the sanguine mists of our emotions. This random process invites non-action. The principles of hydrodynamics give life to swirls of ink only to witness their demise on the mulberry page. This notion of fluidity can also be found in the structure of bone tissue, which is continuously rebuilt, adapting to our ways of life. To do so, it must destroy itself to reinvent itself. The more perfect the anatomical replica, the further it drifts from the nature of the living, drawing closer to the denial of death—far removed from universal representations that play with our gaze and our primal fears.

It is difficult to escape contemporary representations of death, which arise as the inner gaze toward one’s own death fades. Since the dawn of time, conscious beings have counted their dead, buried them, or consumed them. Later, we instrumentalized them, questioning them about historical events or prehistory. We send the organs of some to deceive the death of others. Some among us are frozen in the hope of one day being resurrected. Once we have extracted all possible substance from them and to keep them at a distance, our dead end up as ashes rather than being buried.

Indeed, from ashes to ink, there is but a step. Ink drawing, wood sculpture, instrumental practice, or lutherie connect matter to the intimate vibration of the world. Imagine everything around you vanishing at the stroke of a chisel, a brush, or the resonance of a singing bowl. And that this silence leads you to relinquish the vanity of birdsong, the rustling of leaves beneath your feet, the synchronicity of a dog’s bark with the intricate scent of paths from the past. To witness the retreat of shadowy memories that lend substance to objects. Of sounds that give voice to spirits, and of animals as mediums. These phenomena, so profound that a lifetime is not enough to observe them, expand the spectrum of realities—attractions that ultimately yield to the flame of pure presence.

To the endless processions of time succeed the palingeneses. Only the philosopher and the sage have grasped the colossal inertia of the Earth’s metabolism, which until now has sustained the nature of illusions. From the cycle of seasons to the motion of celestial bodies, the interdependence of phenomena is the only condition of physical eternity granted to the mystery of incarnation. In the face of a humanity that aspires to immortality, the vast resources of the living world are depleting. In light of the cosmos, of forgiveness, and of universal love, could this not be merely an epiphenomenon?’’

Erik Nussbicker