Requiem ‍

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Requiem continues Norman Maýn’s exploration of the perpetuation of violence (against non-human animals) and human, male guilt. Rather than merely stepping into the work, we are invited to trample it; we trigger sounds and tensions, move against resistance, penetrate the space, and become part of the shame. Improvised – and at times ephemeral – architectures of violence, ritual sites, spaces of isolation, and the systems of corridors and pathways found in slaughterhouses, war zones, or illegal combat sports events share more similarities than one might expect. Maýn traces these parallels in Requiem, shaping these points of intersection into a binary construct.

Maýn draws upon architectural principles of spatial isolation and irreversible pathways, translating them within his artistic installation into structures and materialities that can be physically traversed. The gallery entrance is transformed into the gateway to a ‚spectacle of violence’ – at once menacing and unstable. Walls made of weathered corrugated sheets appear dilapidated, yet they form an impassable dead end. A hollowed-out fence post evokes the image of a punching bag. Beneath our feet, a patchwork of steel plates clatters; the noise and stress are generated solely by our own movement. We are pushed through a narrowing corridor and ultimately squeezed into a chamber with no exit. Amidst forced movement and the clamor of violence, stillness becomes the only safe haven – like a moment where, for a split second, time stands still between life and death.

The work Requiem exposes the foundation of male fantasies of violence as a fragile construct, held together loosely by impulsive, spontaneous – brutal rituals that can only be disrupted by our own actions.