secret chapel
2021
mit Mirjam Kroker










The central concept and starting point for the spatial installation “secret chapel” is a “secret”—or rather, hard-to-reach and unattractive—spot in the forest where Judith Egger carried out a long-term, process-oriented project in March 2021; hidden amid blackberry vines and undergrowth, inhabited by slugs, ticks, midges, and fungi of all kinds. Filming always from exactly the same vantage point, the artist captured a section of this site measuring approximately four square meters, which over time transformed into the “secret chapel.” To depict the slow transformation of this secret place, short film sequences (each lasting about 3 seconds) were strung together and interwoven as a kind of stop-motion animation. In this way, in addition to the physical changes in the location, the light, and the weather, the sound of the forest is also captured.
The 33-minute film is integrated into a roughly 6 x 3 m wallpapered wall featuring the photograph of the “secret chapel” in the forest within the room installation, which has been exhibited multiple times. On the floor, there are traces of sound, leaves, and soil.
... in fact, the actual act of shaping accounts for only a relatively small part of the work. Rather, it involves observing and growing alongside the process of becoming and flourishing.




This is less about completely transforming the site—in fact, the actual act of design itself accounts for only a relatively small part of the work. Rather, it involves observing and growing alongside the emergence and proliferation of life in spring, alongside sunsets and sunrises, extreme summer downpours, mold, fungal growth, and carpets of moss. Through small interventions, a kind of space is suggested in which rudimentary clay forms sprout from the ground. In doing so, the artist follows an intuitive feeling rather than a preconceived plan and avoids any aesthetic exaggeration. She tries not to follow the impulse to make something “beautiful,” but instead remains a witness. During heavy rain, the unfired clay washes away or becomes muddy. The forms topple over or collapse. Judith Egger then attempts to reconstruct them as inconspicuously as possible—yet the constant process of disintegration and reconstruction is palpable in the film through cycles of varying lengths.
- yet this constant process of falling apart and rebuilding is palpable in the film, in cycles both long and short.
Egger refers to all her clay objects as “presences.” On the one hand, they symbolize the life force, unchecked growth (a recurring element in her work); at the same time, however, they also represent the consciousness that is born into this world with every living organism and eventually fades away. This aspect is something new in Egger’s art—whereas her focus had previously been purely on the dynamics of life force (which she calls “swell force”), she is now also interested in the seemingly passive state of being present, of “being aware.”
Since Judith Eggers’ father fell seriously ill shortly after she began the project and passed away within three months, the work in the forest became deeply intertwined with this painful event, her witnessing of it, and her encounter with life, dying, and death. The work thus developed its own dynamic and became completely synchronized with life.


During the process, the installation was shown at various stages in Spain (in cooperation with Galeria Aural)—in April at Galería Aural in Madrid, then in a follow-up exhibition at the Museo del Arte Contemporáneo in Alicante, and in the fall at the Centre del Carmen in Valencia. The installation at the Artothek in Munich marks the conclusion of this year-long process. At the end of the exhibition, an artist’s box was presented containing texts by Anabel Roque Rodríguez, an original drawing featuring blackberry thorns, five pigment photo prints, and a piece of wallpaper.
Witnessing and encountering life, dying, and death.




Exhibitions
curated by Alix Stadtbäumer
curated by Galería Aural
curated by Begoña Martínez Deltell & Susana Bañuelos