Elvira BACH

Elvira Bach: I chose them together with Johann, just based on what we liked. Many older works are included, pieces that haven’t been shown in a long time. They came straight from my studio.

Yes, Berlin was still an island within the GDR at the time. You had to travel a long way to get here. Berlin was a free place, where many creative people came. You could live how you wanted, say what you wanted, do what you wanted. It was unlike any other city in West Germany. There was a real sense of freedom. And in art, something new was starting again: figurative painting was coming back – with Lüpertz, Baselitz, Hödicke. My generation could really let loose.

It was back then. Today, you can’t quite say that anymore. But it’s still a city that attracts creatives. Back in the 70s, the theater scene was amazing – the Schaubühne at Hallesches Ufer, for example. I worked there and earned money. That was great.

Yes, I started in props and eventually became a prompter. I was deeply involved for ten years. For the play Der Prinz von Hamburg, I did the props. The production toured the world. I got to travel to Warsaw, Belgrade, Budapest, Rome, Paris – everywhere. It was incredible.

Every day. I studied at the University of the Arts during the day and painted; then, in the evenings I worked at the theater and met all these amazing people.

No. I spent a lot of time in Senegal because my husband, whom I met in Berlin, is Senegalese. I painted there and prepared for exhibitions – in Dakar and also here in Berlin. But the process is always the same. I need my canvases, my paper, my paints, my brushes. When I traveled, I brought my materials with me or found them locally.

Art was always my way of expressing myself – from the beginning, since I was a child. I finished school and was always fascinated by colors. Then I went to Hadamar and learned glass painting and stained glass work. That was my first real encounter with working in color. And yes, I wanted to paint.

I never really thought about whether it was expression. I couldn’t do anything else. I didn’t want to do anything else. At a certain age, you don’t know why you do something – you just do it. Everyone in their own way.

At some point, I realized that working only with glass and lead felt limiting – too much like a craft. On canvas or paper, I’m free. I don’t have to follow a specific technique.

What I am. I can only express what I am and use the colors I want to use. I start from myself – from what I can do, what I see, what I’ve experienced. I try to express that on the canvas. It’s about my life. Everything I’ve seen and experienced, I try to convey through my colors, my canvas, my images.

Again, I always start from myself. I can only paint those figures because I’ve seen myself. At the beginning, I deliberately presented myself. I stood at a bar, wore high heels, showed some skin. I didn’t hold anything, just stood and looked out into the room, into the people. That’s how I found that female figure.

One in Kreuzberg – Das Exil. An Austrian place, one of the few with white tablecloths and napkins. The food was cooked downstairs in a tiny kitchen. It became a meeting place for actors, artists, creatives. The owner had a great instinct. When it got too popular, he’d simply say in his charming Austrian way: “We’re fully booked,” and only let in people he wanted to. Not everyone can do that. So the crowd inside was always very particular.

My first major exhibition was at the Akademie der Künste, in the group exhibit New Painting from Germany. All painters from across Germany were invited. It was a big show. My works were included, too. Eleven figures, eleven women lined up side by side. Apparently, they stood out. That’s how I ended up being invited to documenta. I painted the women how I wanted to paint them. They may have looked different from how women were traditionally painted by men.

No idea – that’s for others to see. That’s the great thing about it: everyone sees something different. Either you stand in front of a painting and feel something – or you don’t. It’s that simple.

Yes. Among them, works by William Copley, René Magritte, and Andy Warhol.

Hands are essential. You do everything with them. You work with them. The high heels – I painted them because they change your legs, the way you walk. You can take them off if you need to run. You can use them to defend yourself. High heels are a weapon. I used to wear them all day long. Not anymore.

It depends. The most important thing is to have the colors in front of me, to mix them. The base tones need to be there. Then I begin. The idea comes while I work. I paint the female figure until I feel it’s finished. I can spend hours on that. I take photos, look at them at home, and continue the next day. Sometimes it takes two or three days. Sometimes it’s quicker. I used to paint every day. It was my life. I loved doing it. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

“Fun” isn’t really the word. I don’t like that word. Sure, it’s nice to have fun now and then. But it’s my work. Not in a negative way – in a very positive way. I paint until I feel it’s done. And then it’s done. I don’t touch it again. Then I start the next one. If I don’t have a new idea, I keep going where I left off. Ideas come while painting. Everything shifts. That’s the beauty – staying in the process.

Yes. It’s a feeling. At some point, I just know.

When I look at some of the old paintings, I know they’re from another time. I might paint them differently today. But they’re true to how I painted then – the way I used color, the way I only outlined parts. They’re right the way they are. I stand by them. I wouldn’t paint over them. I’d just paint a new one.

No idea. But a lot. And I always found it easy to let go of my works. Of course, I kept some I never gave away. But most of them – I loved the idea of people living with them. Not keeping them in a depot. Living with them. That’s beautiful. That made it easy to let them go.

A few from the 80s. That was the beginning of something special. I remember once painting one or two pictures in a day, and then I wanted to go to a concert at SO36. But I was so exhausted from painting, I had to go back to the studio. I couldn’t take in the concert – I had given too much to the work. I remember that clearly.

Nothing comes to mind. I’ve also worked in sculpture – modeling clay with my hands, which I loved. I worked with Murano glass; my designs were executed by artisans. I’d watch and give feedback. I also painted ceramics – vases, plates, things like that.

Not yet. I just moved studios again. I was in a large space in Kreuzberg for 25 years, but I had to leave. Now I’m back in Oranienstraße, in a smaller place. But I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. I’ve always been in Kreuzberg – around Oranienstraße, Schlesische Straße, near the canal that flows into the Spree. It’s so beautiful. Oranienstraße was amazing. I couldn’t be in any other neighborhood.

It’s always been wonderful. Everyone lived there – Rainer Fetting, Salomé, Pastelli, Mittendorf – they were all in the area. Many others, too. It’s all changed now, of course. But I’m still there.

I wasn’t part of the group. It was just the same time, that’s all. We met at Exil or at the art academy. Those were the first connections. But the Moritzplatz group formed their own thing. There was that exhibition at Haus am Waldsee – Fetting, Salomé, Mittendorf, Bernd Zimmer. The four of them. It caused a sensation. It started the new figuration movement – in Cologne, Hamburg, everywhere.

I don’t care. I never counted myself among them. I had nothing to do with it. It was just the same time, the same place.

Yes, staying true to yourself. But first, you have to find yourself. You have to know what you want. And once you do, you stick with it. I found myself when I stood up and showed myself, experienced myself. Everyone does it their own way. But you have to keep finding yourself. People said: “She always paints the same thing.” Later, they said: “Wow, you’re so recognizable.” But none of that ever affected me. People said what they wanted. I just stayed with myself. Did what I wanted, what I could. I didn’t look at what was going on out there, what others were doing. Everyone does what they can. And I see it all in a positive light. Everyone has to do what they want or can. I never got bored – not for a second. Let people talk. I just kept going, doing what I could.