BOZAR
October 12, 2024 - January 5, 2025
80 Artists.
A wealth of works on Love.
The exhibition gives a strange impression—like browsing a 3D rendering of internet search results for "contemporary art love." Yet, to Bozar's credit, no online search could ever yield such a sophisticated and high-caliber selection.
Still, it’s a lot.
I wander through the rooms, exploring the exhibition as though swiping on Tinder, searching for my match. Perhaps it’s the sheer abundance: the over-saturation doesn’t encourage me to linger or take my time. Instead, I feel fleeting moments of attraction. And then, suddenly—love at first sight.
[But does experiencing a coup de foudre mean the exhibition is a success? I’m not sure. I don’t feel I was able—or even inclined—to give every work a fair chance. Faced with such a quantity, I went straight for what already appeals to me. And perhaps the aim of an exhibition about love isn’t to inspire fidelity, after all.]
Back to my big love:
VALIE EXPORT, HAUCHTEXT: LIEBESGEDICHT (Love Poem), 1970
A 2-minute, 24-second video. The artist faces me. A close-up: her torso bends forward as she exhales onto a glass plate that fuses with the screen of an old television. Valie Export doesn’t meet my gaze—she’s elsewhere, absorbed. With her breath, she writes words of love (Ich liebe dich?) on the glass.
But this isn’t a light, playful breath. Not the kind born in the upper body. It’s a deep, visceral breath, drawn from within—and perhaps even deeper. A breath that requires pauses to replenish, to moisten lips, to gather strength. It’s a full-bodied act, turning the mouth into a perfectly rounded orifice. As the words emerge, her torso leans forward, her gaze drifts, her eyes squint with focus. The sound, raw and labored, carries a weight that is sexual and stirring.
A sensory communication, carried by this black and white video. Desire emanates from the cells of Valie Export’s body, and my own cells respond instinctively to her desire. I feel a part of myself rushing outward with that heated breath. My brain wavers, conquered by this physicality. Not in an opposition of thought/desire, but in an organic union: as if the blood were flowing, softening the contours of my mind, making it more supple, more sensitive. More alive.
How can a video have such an effect? The sound is crucial. Isolated in the intimacy of my headphones, I feel as though I’m in the booth of a Germanic Eros Center, alone with my sensations. Is the desire for love entwined with self-giving, voyeurism, or even a kind of prostitution?
But is this declaration inherently for a lover? Cyriaque Villemaux pointed me out that breath also evokes childbirth. This idea intrigues me: the notion of the body giving birth to love—not through speech, but through breath and the mouth.
It offers a different perspective on the physicality of love. Here, the focus isn’t on the other person or the meeting of bodies. Instead, it’s about personal, intimate sensations— When love brings forth the unknown from the very core of our being.