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RENATE GRAF

THE SACRED AND THE PROFANE

T H E S ACR E D A N D TH E PRO FANE

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pp. 6-7; 10-19; 183 The Feeding of the Gods, Jodhpur, 2022

RE N AT E G R A F

The Sacred and the Profane In 1996, I embarked on my first journey to India—a three-month expedition from Trivandrum, Kerala to Hyderabad. We meandered along the small country roads of Southern India, in an iconic Ambassador car, driving through country villages and immersing ourselves in the vibrant outdoor daily life that unfolded before us.

India’s sacred and profane culture fascinated me from the moment I set foot in the country in 1993. The daily rituals, the devout worship on every occasion—it was a world so foreign to my eyes.

This was only the beginning of a series of regular visits to India, from rom 1996 until today.

Armed with my camera, I traveled the country by train, bus, and car, exploring Jaipur, Jodhpur, Udaipur, and Jaisalmer. After I read the biography of Phoolan Devi —known as the bandit queen, an Indian Robin Hood—I was attracted to visit Rajasthan, where my initial journey ended.

I repeatedly returned to Kerala, Karnataka to photograph the brick manufacturers producing bricks still by hand, and the traditional state of Tamil Nadu, which boasted a unique plethora of Hindu shrines along the road and magnificent Hindu temples. In Kerala, my dear friends Colin Hamilton and Kulgin Duval lived on a black pepper farm in Wayanad. With their assistance, I chronicled these journeys by setting up a darkroom to develop the negatives into prints on Paper.

With hungry eyes, I captured everything that unfolded before me—the simple gestures of field workers, the devout worshippers at temples, the solemnity of burial grounds, the craziness of festivals. The gods everywhere in the landscapes as well as the discarded deities after the festivals, abandoned and forgotten on garbage sites, left an unforgettable mark on my memory.

India had transformed into an idea, a state of mind, largely influenced by the films of Vijaya Mulay and Satyajit Ray, particularly the Abu Trilogy. Among all the remarkable films, “The Music Room” left a deep impression on my mind. Filmed in 1967, Louis Malle’s groundbreaking documentary “Phantom India” further fuelled my desire to follow in his footsteps and witness with my own eyes what he so beautifully documented. Louis Malle embarks on his journey throughout India, accompanied by a cameraman and a sound technician, observing like a photographer with a camera.

My fascination with the Orient extends far back, possibly a projection rather than a reality, originating from my studies in anthropology at the University of Vienna.

Prior to that, I had read Tabucchi’s “Nocturne Indien,” which sparked already my dreams of visiting India. Thinking of “Nocturne Indien,” I am instantly transported back to India, and connect it with my current dwelling place of Portugal.

A Portuguese traveller, in search of a lost friend across the Indian subcontinent, encounters different dreamlike memories and his own self rather then his friend he is in search of.

The story interweaves different times, identities, lives, and realities, blurring the lines between

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Ending with one of his poems: “Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free Where the world has not been broken up into fragments By narrow domestic walls Where words come out from the depth of truth Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit Where the mind is led forward by thee Into ever-widening thought and action Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake”

Renate Graf

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All these I loved This dancing of the light on the leaves This playing of the wild winds Among the sal groves They have all maddened my mind Along this red-earth road That man going to the village market The little girl sitting on the dust Playing alone with her tray of toys Whatever I see before me They all make music in my eyes.

Mine is only a bamboo flute And I play only rustic tunes An earthly bond of this dusty earth Has bound my mind I have borrowed my view From the views of those boys I have set my tunes To the tunes of those boys Who have drunk the lights Flowing from the blue of the skies.

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Whenever I want to go to a far away place They crowd around me to dissuade The village sky waving rustic flowers Beckons me back I am yet to exhaust whatever is near And whatever is sweet So I don’t hanker after Whatever is far All these titbits I am yet to find Their farthest limits I am yet to finish my songs Of these ordinary things.

So wherever I go This only I sing How much they have pleased How they have held me in a spell Day and night I have no time To do anything else My eyes are drowned Drowned is my mind Don’t call me It’s of no use – Let others aim something big Let them gather more and more Let me rove Let me sing I don’t want to be someone big.

Rabindranath Tagore

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Clouds And Waves Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me“We play from the time we wake till the day ends.

We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.”

I ask, “But how am I to get up to you ?”

They answer, “Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds.”

“My mother is waiting for me at home,” I say, “How can I leave her and come?”

Then they smile and float away.

But I know a nicer game than that, mother.

I shall be the cloud and you the moon.

I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be the blue sky.

The folk who live in the waves call out to me“We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know not where we pass.”

I ask, “But how am I to join you?”

They tell me, “Come to the edge of the shore and stand with your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves.”

I say, “My mother always wants me at home in the everythinghow can I leave her and go?”

They smile, dance and pass by.

But I know a better game than that.

I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.

I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with laughter.

And no one in the world will know where we both are.

Rabindranath Tagore

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A Dream I had once gone to Ujjaini On the banks of the river Shipra Far far away in that land of dreams To seek the first love of my former life.

She had lodhra* powder on her face A lotus she playfully held in her hand She stuck buds of kunda in her ears And kurubak flower in her hair Her slim body she dressed in red With a knot at her waist Anklets gently jingled on her feet.

It was on a day in spring To find my way I had to travel long In that unknown land.

In the temple of Mahakal The evening prayer bell rang The crowded roads were now empty The dusk was falling And the rooftops were glowing With the rays of setting sun.

My beloved's home On a lonely narrow serpentine street Was difficult to reach.

On the door was painted A conchshell and a discus On either side of its entrance Grew two young mango trees Like two beloved sons On a white pillar at the gate The statue of a lion stood.

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«Je porte en moi tous les rêves de ce monde» — Fe rnando P e s s oa Renate a d’abord voyagé dans les livres mais son esprit avide a voulu vérifier si la lecture ne préparait plutôt aux bagages qu’aux voyages. Elle avait besoin de motifs comme les cartomanciennes ont besoin de cartes, de lignes de la main ou de café pour libérer leur clairvoyance. Pour Renate, ce fut la photographie. Mais ces photos nous disent autre chose que ce qu’elles montrent. Le voyage a opéré : Renate ne nous montre pas l’Inde mais les racines de ce pays, sa force, son immuabilité. Elle vit dans l’instant, ses instantanés nous perdent et nous prouvent que le mieux est de se perdre. Les surprises de ses photos nous donnent raison. Le voyage commence et nous entraine à la suivre. Elle immortalise l’instant et des sentiments profonds.

En avril 2017, Renate expose à la Galerie du Passage son carnet de voyages de l’Inde au Yemen, en passant par la Sibérie. Elle aime capturer les endroits isolés, loin de la modernité.

Elle voyage seule, ne répond plus au téléphone ni ne donne de nouvelles. Cette perte lui donne le sentiment profond du réel qui l’empêche de basculer dans la folie. « Je voyage toujours à contre saison. J’aime le vide, on peut le remplir avec des pensées.

J’aime les choses fugitives, la fragilité du moment, quand le profane devient sacré »

Pierre Passebon

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“I carry within me all the dreams of this world” — F e rnando P e s s oa Renate’s journey of exploration began within the pages of books, but her insatiable curiosity led her to question whether reading could truly prepare someone for the experiences of travel itself.

She sought patterns and parallels in the way fortune tellers rely on cards, palm lines, or even coffee grounds to unlock their clairvoyant abilities. Although Renate’s chosen medium is photography, her photographs convey something deeper than their visual content.

Renate’s photographs do not overtly depict India, but rather unveil the essence of the country—the roots that ground it, its resilience, and its unchanging spirit. She lives in the present moment, and her images have the power to transport us, proving that sometimes the most rewarding aspect of travel is losing oneself in the unknown. Her photos, with their unexpected revelations, affirm this truth. Each journey Renate embarks upon invites us to accompany her, not physically, but within the recesses of our own minds. She captures and immortalizes these moments, evoking profound emotions within us.

In April 2017, Renate showcased her book “Journals”, chronicling her travels from India to Yemen, via Siberia, and China, along the silk road, and at the Galerie du Passage, in Paris.

Her penchant for capturing remote, unspoiled locations and landscapes, far removed from the trappings of modernity, is evident. Renate’s solitary sojourns, marked by her detachment from technology and communication, engender a profound connection with reality that prevents her from succumbing to the chaos of modern life. In her own words: “I always travel out of season.

I like emptiness, that one can fill with thoughts. I like the fleeting things, the moment, the ephemera and the fragility of the moment, when the profane becomes sacred.”

Pierre Passebon

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My photography In my pursuit of capturing the world as I perceive it, both, the profane and the sacred, storytelling and mysticism hold a transcendental power. They transport the viewer beyond predefined identities, beyond dogmas, beyond national boundaries.

I communicate through images.

Traveling with my partner of the time, Anselm Kiefer, my first journey to Asia took place in China in 1993. We journeyed from Beijing to Shaanxi province and from Xi’an traversed the Southern route of the Taklamakan Desert to Kashgar and Tachkent on the Uzbek border. From there we traveled to Pakistan via the Karakoram Highway, and ending our journey in India —although 1933 was a offered only a brief introduction to the country, exploring both Jaipur and Delhi, I was immediately fascinated and India would become the focus of my photography from thereafter.

During this 3 month expedition to Asia, I discovered my passion to photograph religious sites as well as manufactories. The unique architectural shapes of these pre-industrial structures, composed of brick and silk factories, resonated with ancient temple archetypes and caught my attention.

After many travels to South India, I collaborated with a master photographer in the remote village of Wayanad in Thirnudelli. Together, we worked in his darkroom, producing five books of hand-printed photographs. Each book was centred around a different theme: workers, offerings, fires, brickworks, and the Kali festival of Kolkata. These books served as documentation of a rapidly changing Indian society, reflecting the global shifts occurring in our world today.

Over the course of two decades, I witnessed an extraordinary transformation in this region of Asia. Yet, despite these changes, particular essential rituals and daily ways of life in the countryside remained unchanged.

From this first book project, produced in Kerala, emerged the idea of producing largescale photographs.

Rather then a photographer, I consider myself an artist, and photography is just one of the various mediums through which I express my perspective of the world. With my camera, I intuitively search for a vantage point that aligns with the images in my mind.

My images serve a different purpose compared to those of many other photographers.

My photographs are neither comprehensive nor conclusive, nor do they embody Henri CartierBresson’s concept of the “decisive moment”. Instead, they function as a language, as signposts pointing towards meaning; they do not define, but rather bear witness.

If thought is the supreme creative tool, it is no accident that we call a breakthrough moment of comprehension “seeing the light”. Perhaps this implies that photography is the most succinct and direct means of revealing visual truth, even if just for a fleeting moment.

I have chosen analog photography because raw black and white prints on silver gelatine paper represent my work best. This method contains a roughness that I believe digital photography

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fails to achieve. My images go beyond themselves; they evoke possibility, supported by poetry and imbued with quotes from great writers whose words often compliment my photography. Poetry has given meaning to landscapes for me. Nature itself would be void without literature. When I photograph in Kolkata, the poetry of Tagore lingers in my mind, accompanying my quest.

Some of my greatest inspiration comes from poets like the Austrian Ingeborg Bachmann —who I have worshipped since a student— the poetry of T.S.Eliot, Paul Celan, Rainer Maria Rilke, the writings of Fernando Pessoa, texts by Joseph Brodsky, and Paul Valery to name only a few, as well as the aesthetics of films like “Sans Soleil” by Chris Marker, the French Nouvelle Vague, and the Russian filmmaker Tarkovsky have accompanied my whole life. I think in images.

Today, social media has created an international audience that communicates at the speed of light. The older generation often struggles to understand the younger, international, and multicultural generation due to its lack of familiarity with contemporary modes of communication. However, this new world transcends culture, nations, borders, language, and morals, leaving a significant portion of society behind.

Human perception, in my view, is evolution’s greatest achievement. As Fernando Pessoa, the great Portuguese writer observed, “looking at the night sky, depending on where I stand my perception of the night sky is different….” Am I looking at the past when I look into the night sky?

Perhaps photography, in capturing a fleeting moment, is the only evidence of perception —the image is witness of a moment If thought is the supreme creative tool—symbolised by the phrase “seeing the light” in moments of breakthrough comprehension—then the act of photography, especially for an artist, becomes the most concise and direct means of revealing visual truth, even if only for a fleeting moment.

After countless travels, circumnavigating the globe and frequent visits to India, I have endeavoured to capture the many layers of a profoundly complex society, where the sacred and profane coexist, where the digital revolution constantly reshapes our reality, and where ancient religious roots remain deep. Through the lens of my camera, I have documented a world of change and upheaval. It is a world where cultural codes are constantly challenged, where a new constellation of morals, power shifts, and values emerge—one that is more multicultural than the white Eurocentric post-fascist Germanic world of the 1970s, which shaped my early years.

I will conclude with a quote from Chris Marker’s film “Sans Soleil”: “He contrasted African time to European time and also to Asian time. He said that in the 19th century, mankind had come to terms with space, and that the great question of the 20th century was the coexistence of different concepts of time.” In that way, the human fantasy of time travel has become a mental reality.

As T.S. Eliot wrote, “because I know that time is always time and place is only place.”

Renate Graf

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Renate Graf Exhibitions

2024 The Sacred and the Profane, Jodhpur, India, January 2024 2023 Crux Gallery, Athens, Art Athina, September 2023 — Crux Gallery, Athens Bestiary, Artefacts, Allegories, Representations, 9 February-25 March 2023 2022 Terra Fracturata, MAC, Rio de Janeiro, Niterói, September – December — Grande Mestres, Mosteiro de Santo Andre, Ancede, Baiao, Portugal, August 2022 — Travels along the Silk Route 1993-2021, Exhibition-projects in 3 spaces in Istanbul Austrian Cultural Institute, Istanbul Institute Française, Istanbul MUSE Contemporary , Istanbul, April/May 2022 — En remontant le temps et les routes de la Soie, at the CER Modern, Ankara, Turkey, January – March — Honorary guest at the Este Arte invited by Reginart Collection, Punta del Este, Uruguay, January 2021 Renate Graf: Sacred Landscapes, Slag Gallery, New York, USA, June – July — En remontant le temps et les routes de la Soie, Maison de la Photographie Tashkent, Uzbekistan, April

2018 Artwalk Special – Garage 229, Stuttgart, Germany — Fotografien, Li Zijan Art Museum, Changsha, China 2015 Traces, Blicke auf flüchtige Spuren – Casal Solleric, Palma de Mallorca and Villa Friede, Bonn 2014 Kali, Eine Reise durch Indien. – Galerie Krinzinger, Wien, Austria 2014 – Photos and books – David Nolan Gallery, New York, USA 2013 Carnet de Voyage, Pierre Passebon, Galerie du Passage, Paris, France — Book presentation “Journal 1992-2012”, Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac, Salzburg, Austria — Book presentation “Journal 1992-2012” and exhibition of “Festa di San Sebastiano,” Gallery Lorcan O’Neill Rome, Italy — Book presentation “Journal 1992-2012” and poetry reading – Gallery Anthony d’Offay and Hannah Barry Gallery, London, UK — Book presentation “Journal 1992-2012”, David Nolan Gallery, New York, USA — Book presentation “Journal 1992-2012”, Pierre Passebon, Galerie du Passage, Paris, France 2011 Photographs for the opera Orlando Furioso by Antonio Vivaldi – staged by Pierre Audi and Patrick Kinmonth, Théâtre des Champs Elysée, Paris, France

2019 The Photographer’s chronicles: Thoughts become Images 1992-2019, Palácio Anjos, Lisbon, Portugal

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José Alvarez created and has directed Editions du Regard since 1978. He is the author of numerous books and catalogs devoted to architecture, art, design, photography; of two novels – Anna at night and With death in battle dress – of an essay – François Pinault contemporary artist and a biography – Helmut and June Newton, crossed portraits.

Denise Wendel-Poray is a Canadian writer and curator holding degrees from Yale and McGill Universities. She is the author and editor of books and essays on the relationship between art, theatre and music including Frauen-liebe und Leben (Dumont 2013) Painting the Stage: Artists as Stage Designers (Skira 2019) and The Last Days of the Opera. (Skira 2023) She has been curator and music advisor for the Wilhelm Lehmbruck Museum in Duisburg Germany and guest lecturer on stage décor at the Kunstakademie in Düsseldorf.

She has curated shows for artists such as Hermann Nitsch, William Kentridge, Howard Hodgkin and Vicken Parsons. As a journalist she contributed publications such as: Opera Canada Magazine, ArtPress, Le Quotidien de l’art, Art Review, Die Welt and Wiener Kurier.

Pierre Passebon approaches 20th century Decorative Arts and contemporary creation in a very personal way, eclectic and surprising. Pierre is an Explorer, discoverer, decorator, passionate collector. He opened the Galerie du Passage in 1992. Became one of the pioneers for the rehabilitation of the work of Jean Royère, Emilio Terry and Alexandre Noll. The gallery regularly offers exhibitions of furniture, Gio Ponti, Franco Albini, photographers, Lynn Davis, David Lynch, ceramists Bela Silva, Giuseppe Ducrot, but also scenographies at the Monaco museum, at the European House of Photography, at the Palais Cadaval in Evora… works on his collections and passions Alexandre Noll, comics, Marlène Dietrich… In 2010, he received the medal of Knight in the Order of Arts and Letters and that of Officer in 2015.

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Book Aknowledgements Alexandra de Cadaval Cassandra Swartz Dhananajaya Singh Denise Wendel-Poray Guta Moura Guedes José Alvarez Lior Gal Pedro Falcão Pierre Passebon Rui Freire I would like to express my eternal gratitude for a life long support to Colin Hamilton Elektra Kiefer Gudrun Kramer Guta Moura Guedes Johnnie Shand Kydd José Alvarez Lance and Neila Wyman Lior Gal Manfred Walkolbinger Pierre Passebon Robert Littman Ruben Burkhard Sara Skelly Sunderland Vergil Kiefer Walter Smerling Wilfried Graf Publisher AMAG Publisher Texts Denise Wendel-Poray José Alvarez Pierre Passebon Rabindranath Tagore Renate Graf Translations Derek Strick (pp. 57-60) Cassandra Swartz (p. 154) Revision Cassandra Swartz (english) Graphic Design Atelier Pedro Falcão Ratio [1: 1,414] – 23.3 × 32.9 cm Typefaces Verdigris MVB Garda Nova III Grosa Printing and binding Gráfica Maiadouro, Portugal ISBN: ?????????????

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