Original subtitles

Pictures at an Exhibition.

A film by Ulrich Seidl.

'Tis I, The serial-killer,

Feverishly beautiful, Loving you to death.

The soul catcher, Painfully merciful,

How good I do exist.

'Tis I, the dreamer who wears blindingly white bone runes.

'Tis I. 'Tis I.

The heartbreaker who beats the drum of fate torturously sharp.

'Tis I, the clam seeker who breaches the dawn tenderly gentle.

'Tis I, the miracle doctor. But...

I don't heal my own miracle-causing wounds.

'Tis I, the shadow hunter.

My bittersweet smile causes cries.

'Tis I, the bootlicker.

The lust, poet's child of the night.

'Tis I. 'Tis I.

When I look at this picture, I first think of the lifecycle.

Why? Well, I see a small path here that vanishes in the fog.

That's a situation we all know from our lives.

We never know what's happening tomorrow.

And of course, life is full of surprises.

They are symbolized by those stalagmite-like shapes.

They represent obstacles that we have to avoid.

By all means, in this picture we see the uncertainty in the morning.

It ain't that, either.

Switch on your jukebox, throw in a coin and join in with Luis Premer.

My name is Ren� Rupnik and I'm about 50 years old.

I now live with my mother. I used to be a long-time

teacher of physics, math, and chemistry.

Since teaching really bothered me, I retired.

Now, I am studying sciences and particularly the arts.

This is the plenty of the colour 'red',

Red with all its expression and power.

At the top left, a little explosion.

And this gash; it's like a bolt of lightning.

Concerning courtesy, I agree with you.

But to me, Staudacher is so interesting because of another reason.

Here, he works, you can almost say, epistemically, maybe without even knowing.

The writing, the letters and the symbols are here related with the outlined reality.

And that's our lives' contradiction.

On the one hand, linguistic and theoretical.

And on the other hand, opposed to reality.

I can see it in all of his works and it stimulates me, epistemically.

In the center of the picture, there's a church.

To its left, there's a bird.

- I don't see any bird. - I do.

And there's no church at all.

Points and lines. I don't see anything.

It's an awful picture.

And on the top, there might also be a bird.

The painter was crazy.

That's no art.

I don't see anything else.

She just doesn't understand it.

It's just an awful picture!

If they only had these kind of pictures in exhibitions,

I'd stop being a connoisseur of the arts!

It doesn't have anything to do with art.

Yellow.

Blue.

Brown.

Red isn't in the picture.

Gray.

In the turmoil of the sensual world, the abundace of industrial society,

We pay tribute to Master Mondrian.

This picture shows an erect penis of a man

that sticks out from his body in the direction of the shot.

I instantly have to think of the comparison between a penis and a cannon.

Particularly the cannons in the 18th century, which were very penis-like.

The testicles are equivalent to the cannon wheels.

The penis shaft to the cannon barrel.

And the glans is a little bit thicker just like the muzzle.

This similarity is very meaningful.

It influences man's way of thinking and feeling.

Sigmund Freud realized that sexuality and genitalia affect the humans.

The similarity between a penis and a cannon makes the man a warrior.

The man also "shoots" with his penis actively.

His martial ways also merge into his other life.

Thus, his whole life is influenced by his penis.

At the top right, that's a monkey, not a bird like I'd thought.

That's neither a bird nor a monkey. Where are the hands, feet and the head?.

- It's upside down. - Oh, I see.

I think you see it upside down.

I have absolutely no interest in this picture. It's a disaster.

If you make something like that, you take the mainstream for fools.

You can't even look at it, but have to pay admission for it.

In the center, it's quite warm because of the brown.

Because of the generous brush strokes and the thin color,

warmth pervades the whole city.

And red and yellow, very ardent colors,

they surround the whole city and make it dynamic.

This picture is called "Soul Control."

In the center, I can see the human being who is in contact with his surroundings.

They are symbolized by differently-colored areas.

Depending on their intensity, they symbolize communication, bonds, and emotions.

For some pictures you don't need a title.

Without a title, you know what a nude picture shows.

If I see a square, I don't need a title either,

because geometry and regular shapes are left to my imagination.

I'm free to adapt and use my imagination.

I can let my geometrical worldview take effect.

The green looks nice, but you can't perceive anything.

On the left, you might see a head with a long neck and long hair.

But what he is trying to say with the swastika flags...

Maybe he lives in the past, tainted by the Nazis,

or still glorifies the Nazi ideology.

Or maybe he has suffered a lot so that he can't forget that time.

In any case, he can't be in his right mind making such things.

This accumulation of penises in the left image center

looks down threateningly on the vaginal composition

and penetrates it.

The picture is about domination, a man's invasion into the woman.

The dominance of the father in the family.

The child, to the right of it in the shape of an embryo, is isolated.

It watches the father besieging and overwhelming the mother sexually.

It might develop an Oedipus complex

watching its father penetrating and advancing on its mother.

I see a colorful figure. The yellow thing with the blue eyes.

It reminds me of Africa, of the Maasai.

Big people. They also have big eyes and jump high.

Africa... I'd love to visit there.

It's a colorful world. The people are always happy, even without food.

There's a lot of suffering and war.

There's war in every country. I don't understand it.

If I could do something, I'd create peace and abolish starvation.

If I'm standing in front of this picture "Heroes' Square,"

I ask, where's the hero, where's the square, where's the heroes' square?

What connections should I make to reach some conclusion?

The way I'd look at this picture would differ greatly as if there was no title.

If this picture didn't have a title, I'd be lost.

This work doesn't have a title.

However, I still desire to find a title for it.

I'd say it's about the abuse of science.

Sciences are represented by clear and straight lines.

They are in order.

Communication is only possible because of this abuse.

An abuse of thinking.

As this work is made on a curtain,

you will find secrets yet to be discovered by the sciences behind it.

The red color is too loud for me.

The left thing on the top looks like two thighs...

- You mean it should be darker. - No, lighter.

The dark color bothers me.

And on the top left, it looks like human thighs.

With a little bit of imagination, yes.

And on the left, a caterpillar's face. Interesting, isn't it?

Yes, it has two eyes and a nose.

If you look closely, it has a human face because of that.

But to tell the truth, I wouldn't buy it.

It's horrible, isn't it? It's way too modern for our home.

Fear stands for man or man stands for fear, or what?

You said it yourself. The whole picture stands for woman.

I don't say that fear is man. I say that the genders are scary to each other.

- You mean fear of relationships? - Yes, relationships and also...

We want to live together, but we can't.

Just look at society. It's true.

And in my opinion, he expressed that very well.

It's a knock-down picture. All the red is depressing.

If you had it at home and saw that red all the time, you'd kill yourself.

You'd need a big home for this picture.

But even if it were small, it's about man's suppression, woman suppressing man.

Maybe you're having problems with women.

Certainly not.

You can see here why you shouldn't start a relationship.

- You see that in the picture? - I see that for sure.

If it's still full of secrets, it's worth something.

The man has to work and the wife just stays at home.

The man has to give her money.

The man can't make decisions because his wife always tells him what to do.

While you were talking, I looked closer at the picture.

This black and red thing below these open thighs might be a penis.

The black expresses fear.

And the red expresses life.

And where does this red come from? From the woman's thighs.

Pure oppression.

- Women are life. - And men aren't?

- Men are also life. - Oh, I see, also.

So you think women are the major part of life.

So you have the right to oppress men.

And the mother's breasts on the right. This whitish, maternal, this milky...

The reason why women are so soft, their breasts and thighs in particular,

is because the infant has the same soft and sensitive flesh.

He feels good in this environment.

In contrast to the hostile world outside. There's heat.

And the wind is blowing. Sometimes, it's too cold, too hot, or too dry.

This attacks the infant's skin who suffers from that.

I still remember my childhood when I had to wear long trousers.

I was physically exhausted. My skin was itching.

I just wanted to rip it off, be naked and crawl into a vagina

only as a penis to flee from our

cultural, chemical, hostile world which only attacks you.

I want to have an understanding boyfriend that I don't meet with every day.

That would be horrible. I could never marry and see the same person everyday.

Wake up, go to sleep. That would be boring.

You get to know each other too well.

It should be something new day by day.

It's okay to meet two or three times a week.

Maybe it's not an advantage not knowing that person that well.

If you don't know the person too well, there will always be surprises.

Negative, but also positive ones.

People change. Maybe too fast.

I just changed a lot recently.

Sometimes, I don't even know what I want.

He is surrounded by women who want to suppress him.

That's the reason for all the red.

The man is always abused. Just like in a marriage.

That's what's shown here.

I don't know about marriage.

Why? Don't you denigrate your husband.

We want to talk about the picture, don't we?

Yes, but that's pure oppression. The big things are always women.

And the small thing in the middle is the man.

This black figure is genderless. It's neither man nor woman.

It's the general fear

that we don't dare to live up to our emotions.

Or that we are lascivious but don't live up to it.

Lust, that was your first statement.

I think about it when I look at the picture.

So you are having pornographic thoughts about it?

No, I don't. I just think that this is what the artist is trying to show.

It's life's perpetual topic.

But you perceive everything big as a woman.

And everything little as a man.

No, the cigar is big and could stand for a penis.

There we have it! You're seeing sex again.

There is a process as eater and shitter,

the two final stages of the digestive tract, a development.

That's life. And he is literally projecting a biological act of ours

so that we're challenged to think about what we do,

about what's going on inside us and inside our heads.

It's kind of a mirror he's holding up to us.

By God, one cannot be happy with that picture.

You can't hang it up in a room. Maybe in a vestibule.

Maybe in a big hall because the picture is huge.

But you'd only walk past it and wouldn't pay attention to it.

But by God, you couldn't say you'd draw delight from this picture.

Red on Gray. 1962. By Markus Prachensky.

A fight, a blow, its power.

With two brushes.

The mortal combat of two samurai, in one person.

Am I not right?

As a child, you always laugh. You are never sad.

You don't know anything evil. That's why you go to a circus.

My father always bought me big, colorful balloons.

I ran out proudly. It usually burst before I got home.

There wasn't much point in it.

I also liked cotton candy. Sweets, I love sweets.

You only get fat.

I will never want to be as fat as these women. So bulky.

One will realize instantly that women are sexuallly masochistic beings.

So women become happy when they are beaten.

Not hard, but only a slap on the butt.

They develop certain masochistic desires

that are similar to the sexual act

because she is also "stung" and treated harshly.

At the same time, she senses pleasure even though she's in pain.

She puts it away and turns it into lust.

My marriage wasn't torture.

And if it was, it would be my problem because I can abandon it.

- I'm free. - Yes.

So you were divorced and tortured. You shouldn't have got a divorce.

- Yes, sure. - It's also a sort of torture.

A lot of things are torture. It can be psychological, physical, or mental.

Maybe I tortured myself because I had expectations that my partner couldn't meet.

- But that's also torture. - Then I torture myself and

blame everything on you. But that's not true.

I torture myself because I stayed in that relationship too long.

That's a picture for the future, for the next 100 or 200 years.

That's what the artist thinks the world will look like.

Here, the human body is enchained, tied to the ear.

They hear but can't process the data like we do now.

Every dream has its end.

Every shadow follows the light.

Every day dwindles.

Only our love doesn't.

Because it came like a fairytale and entered our hearts.

It seems like a miracle that will never cease.

Every path, every street leads to some destination

Every river runs toward the sea and ends there.

But the love you give is better than a dream

Because it lives until the end of time and space.

Of time and space.

Living dead.

And everything that is related to it. Love, joy, grief, pain, lust.

Why do you say "lust" at the end? Actually, everything starts with it.

Youth, sex, debauchery. That's how it should be.

Everybody enjoys life. It irritates me that you mention sex at the end.

- You shouldn't... - I just took what you said...

Women's thighs, pure sex, excesses. Generally, that's life.

Pure sex is life? I'd rather say love is life.

And love doesn't have anything to do with sex.

Everything has... Sex is life.

But without sex? What good is money without sex?

In this picture, love isn't expressed.

But you can clearly see the female torso.

You can see their hands touching.

But you can't see them ascending to heaven, like the priests always say.

It isn't shown.

His intention with this picture was something different.

It should make you think.

He can't always express things the way he wants.

It's his version. He did a good job.

The picture turned out well.

It's well-proportioned.

It is fair to say that this is an act of love.

To the right, of course, he shows in a typical way what life is about,

It's fleetingness. What point is there to life?

- Nothing anymore. - You can say about life:

All things must pass.

You might even say that one expects death.

When I see a skeleton, pictured or real,

well, I often pass a bookshop selling books on medicine.

They have a skeleton for sale.

If I look at that I feel nervous for the next half hour.

I try to pass that shop without looking at it.

We should face death calmly, but I wouldn't want to feel liberated,

I don't want to be liberated from life. Personally, I love life.

If one is reasonably healthy one should be satisfied.

There are so many ways and means of living that I don't want to be free of life.

To me, life doesn't represent a prison that I want to be liberated from.

Life is fantastic. It comes to an end at some point,

but that doesn't make it less beautiful.

At the centre, death lurks heralding its own arrival.

It's rather depressing. We'd better look at the other side.

There we have women of a nubile age.

Of course, one studies women of all ages, though more attention is given to the young ones.

This lady, above all her pelvis, it's lascivious,

It's strong, I'd like to touch it.

Also her upper and lower thighs with those feminine shoes,

putting an emphasis on everything feminine,

they represent the lasciviousness of an older woman.

Older women are more lascivious and try to make themselves interesting

to the world by using accessories like those shoes.

This woman is a wonderful counterpart to the man discussed earlier on.

You get loads of women like that and she reminds me of an older mother

whose broad thighs and broad pelvis

represent a hole you want to creep into.

That is something I theoretically do in my mind all the time

when studying women at a swimming-pool, but of course just theoretically and in my mind.

You say love and sex are the same?

That's impossible because the sort of love a mother feels for a child...

You could feel love in a natural environment, sitting alone in a meadow,

watching a sunset, you may suddenly feel a wonderful emotion called love.

- But that's got nothing to do with sex. - But we are talking of physical love.

You perhaps. I'm not.

You'd like to live with a partner who tells you about bumblebees,

takes you to a meadow and there you'd have an orgasm?

- I don't know. Maybe I'd have an orgasm. -Really?

- Anyway... you're talking such nonsense! - We're talking about sex.

No, I'm not talking about sex. You talk about sex.

You look at the picture and talk about sex.

You see a woman's open thighs. She gives herself to a man and you talk of meadows?

Well, perhaps it's got something to do with procreation, with breeding and revival...

Death... Last year my cat died...

My mother told me several times :

"Look, I feel so rotten today. Maybe when you come home you'll find me dead."

If you listen to that time and again, you wish to push such thoughts aside.

You don't want to think about death, you flee from your flat so as not to see it,

so as not to be close to it.

Then I go to the Lobau to look at young girls, virgins even,

just young life, so as not to be reminded of death and to avoid a nervous breakdown.

This is ridiculous. I'd like to know what you read of all this?

And the scissors must not be in the living-room.

I cannot receive anyone today, I can't do anything today.

The flat was so nicely furnished.

Your father tried so hard in everything.

And now you ruin it all.

Your father would never have done that, never, never.

He took the greatest care of this flat,

he loved this flat more than anything and you misbehave in this fashion.

We are not ignorant in matters of art.

On the contrary, we think a lot of art - if art it is.

We have very good things that often delight us.

This is made of straw, done by a farmer's own hand.

A very good oil-painting, dating from the late 18th century.

It shows two swans in a river forest.

Two wonderful plates on the wall, the upper one dating from 1949 or 1950,

depicting the fortress of Jerusalem.

The lower one shows a Biedermeier couple, a hunter and his bride.

Here, rather a naive painting, oil too,

excellent work showing some place in the Alps.

Here we have nice things as well.

A typically rural picture,

something one could still call genuine art, made of straw.

It shows things typical of country life:

food, fruit, vegetables, bread, drink.

A beautiful Alpine village in the Dolomites,

characterised by this fence.

The fence says a lot about its location.

This is a wonderful, old bedroom painting.

It's brilliant and dates from the turn of the century.

It's still up to date and can be considered a real work of art.

It gives us much joy.

This is a farm, probably in the Salzburg mountains,

excellent work, fine painting, signed.

This is a wonderful picture, it's an embroidery, finely stitched.

It depicts a Dutch landscape in winter.

All one can say is that, if you look at it for a longer time,

especially during the summer, it warms your heart.

Such pictures really give you much joy.

The end of love.

Black is my color because you are dead a thousand times.

Desire, my deepest scar. The requiem, a red sky.

I don't come to you out of hatred, love or grief.

I come because you are in me. Distance of desire without a wall.

I won't reach you just as no one shall reach the horizon.

But I will never go off my route until your dream picture fades away.

At some point I will die on my long jouney to you.

Your longing I will court Before freezing on this path of love.