If it were possible to find whoever introduced the term “offspace” into German art debates, I would like to ask that person whether in coining the term there was not the least hint of cynicism. Considering that the term denotes art exhibitions in the context of low budgets and poor infrastructure, one will soon guess where my criticism is heading. It is quite obvious that the quality of artistic endeavour and the connected issue of attracting attention to it through exhibitions and publications are circumscribed by a lack of funding and the consequent lack of recognition. Urban infrastructure research of course acknowledges examples of such remote sites turning into coveted art centers. But that is only the case after those people who had worked there for many years and usually went quite unnoticed had been forced to move on elsewhere. The argument can be conclusively rounded out by the fact that the term “offspace” is a misinterpreted Anglicism that is only used in this way in German and has no corresponding meaning in English (where “off space” simply means what it says – a remote location). The Anglo-American world prefers the term “artist-run space” (ARS) to identify this type of self-organized exhibition areas rather than define it simply by the fact that they exist far away from the “main business”. But perhaps the German usage of “offspace” can be explained by the fact that, hard-working and modest as they are, German-speaking artists would rather accept remote spaces with poor air conditioning than have no exhibition facilities at all. This pains an art connaisseur’s heart, so let us give it a positive spin: self-organization also represents a strategy to appropriate to oneself the operational modes of exhibition spaces one has not yet been able to penetrate, with the ultimate aim of finally attracting the attention of official, institutionalized exhibition organisers and curators.

All the more astonishing, then, at the Kunstwerft association with its Werftgalerie at Myrthengasse in Vienna’s 7th district has explicitly made “exhibiting” a lower priority and has literally turned the “niche” it occupies in a remote alley into a collection site ruled by its very own work strategy. The site was founded by the young Austrian writer Erwin Uhrmann and the visual artist Moussa Kone from Vienna, and even if such an “offspace” is a place where a new art scene is trying to emerge, these artists are engaged in a very different type of collection in their attempt to redefine the value of art which is usually determined by great names, renowned places and publicity. They collect discarded works of art in an “art deposit flap” built into a basement window at street level. Any new arrival is painstakingly catalogued, archived and indexed. Signatures are often missing, so the art work can only be filed under “artist unknown”, and sometimes a piece of criminal history is brought to light. The art flap has already served as a refuge for stolen artwork, such as a coat of arms pilfered in 1974 from the Lower Austrian municipality of Kronberg, attributed to the artist Hermann Bauch. The pice was wrapped in a newspaper dating from the time of the theftand the deposit had been pre-announced by phone call. The anonymous caller wanted to get information about how to use the flap correctly, so that the object would not be damaged. Since that time, the gallery’s web site www.werftgalerie.at includes a note that larger objects will also be accepted personally upon notification by phone and that anonymity and confidentiality are ensured. Within the context of the temporary group exhibition, The Essl Collection has now received a second collection consisting of strange objects of obscure origin – sometimes even flirting with illegality. An archivist’s nightmare: the collection is growing permanently in unpredictable ways because its growth depends on how many people use the art flap.

To stoke the fire even more, the Kunstwerft groupinitiated another project which focuses on the context of exhibitions in the “offspace”. The exhibition space is limited to a window niche open to the outside, its back wall being the walled-up window facing the interior. When they place their own artwork in this niche it is an invitation to theft rather than an exhibition per se. It is remarkable, that, so far, none of the objects has found its way back into the art flap lying within reach below the window niche. All of the artwork displayed there has, however, been entered into the “Art Loss Register” which lists stolen artwork. The works of the artists on display at The Essl Collection are no longer meant to be stolen but reflect in detail on the prescribed philosophy.

In his drawings and painting, Moussa Kone analyses the relationship between artists and critics, curators and gallery owners. He adapts paintings by old masters to embed the relationship between both groups in the re-arranged scenes. Christian Eisenberger builds a sculpture of painted cardboard which seems to pile up in an organic way; on its top rests a small model of Noah’s Ark. Scuplture is also the chosen medium of Bernhard Hosa: in his material assemblies he explores violence as a social phenomenon. The paintings of Amina Broggi are concerned with death and its aestheticization through images of dead pigeons. In her video, Nilbar Güres presents herself in the public domain of Vienna. In her mouth she carries a spoon with an egg on it – to underline the sense of unease she has as a foreigner moving around in the city.

But what about the collection of artwork here collected via the art flap? Who knows, perhaps one of these days a work of your very own or stemming from your personal collection will re-surface at the Kunstwerft. The art flap is open seven days a week, 24 hours a day.

Karin Pernegger, born 1973 in Brügge/Belgium, is the director of Galerie der Stadt Schwaz and in charge of the exhibiion programme of Kunstforum Montafon in Schruns/Austria. Lives in Schwaz, Austria.

Originally published in: hot spots, Edition Sammlung Essl, Klosterneuburg, 2005, p.133-142. (exhibition catalogue)