„If this work causes even the slightest discomfort, then that’s precisely the point.“ (Norman Maýn)

With Requiem, Norman Maýn continues his exploration of the perpetuation of violence (against non-human animals) and of human, male guilt. The installation serves simultaneously as both a rupture and a bridge for the Berlin-born artist; it eschews explicitly figurative devices and challenges our intuition. What remains – despite or perhaps precisely because of the abundance of material – is a structure whose performative character emerges from the visitors’ own dynamics, drawing us into a transition from passive observers to active participants. Rather than merely stepping into the work, we are invited to trample it; we trigger sounds and tensions, move against resistance, penetrate the space, and become part of the shame.

Improvised – and at times ephemeral – architectures of violence, ritual sites, spaces of isolation, and the systems of corridors and pathways found in slaughterhouses, war zones, or illegal combat sports events share more similarities than one might expect. Maýn traces these parallels in Requiem, shaping these points of intersection into a binary construct. Although the initial impetus for Maýn’s artistic inquiry lies in the Toro Júbilo* (Fire Bull) festival – held annually each November for the past four centuries in Medinaceli (Castile and León, Spain) – his reflections are universal in nature. They emerge from the deep, dark soil of archaic male abysses – manifested in heteronormative ideologies and iconographies of dominance through violence, escalating ultimately into the frenzy of group dynamics.

Maýn draws upon architectural principles of spatial isolation and irreversible pathways, translating them within his artistic installation into structures and materialities that can be physically traversed. The gallery entrance is transformed into the gateway to a ‚spectacle of violence’ – at once menacing and unstable. Walls made of weathered corrugated sheets appear dilapidated, yet they form an impassable dead end. A hollowed-out fence post evokes the image of a punching bag. Beneath our feet, a patchwork of steel plates clatters; the noise and stress are generated solely by our own movement. We are pushed through a narrowing corridor and ultimately squeezed into a chamber with no exit. Amidst forced movement and the clamor of violence, stillness becomes the only safe haven – like a moment where, for a split second, time stands still between life and death.

The work Requiem exposes the foundation of male fantasies of violence as a fragile construct, held together loosely by impulsive, spontaneous – brutal rituals that can only be disrupted by our own actions.

What remains is
Vastness of the sky
Panorama of death
Sun burning
Red moon.
               Las estrellas

(Norman Maýn)

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Text: Anne Hölck and Norman Maýn