MY PLEASURE TO SERVE YOU

FINE ART PRINT BEHIND GLAS, 170 CM X 120 CM , EDITION OF 1, 96CM X 140CM , EDITION OF 7, 2018

Winkhaus is delighted to grace us with a series of floral images.

After all, flowers, it seems, exist solely for this purpose. Their popularity transcends eras and cultures, their reputation remains impeccable. They are free of friction and provocation. We use them for decoration, we gift them as tokens of appreciation, affection, and—let’s be honest—sometimes out of sheer lack of imagination, knowing full well that the likelihood of flowers being met with rejection or criticism is close to zero.

With this series, Winkhaus appears to establish an almost utopian harmony between artist and viewer—an absolute consensus, which she further emphasizes with the title My pleasure to serve you.

But these images are neither an homage to the magnificent cycle of life nor a depiction of pure, painless beauty. Winkhaus has chosen flowers as a symbol-laden, primordial subject and made them her objects. The result is powerful and multi-layered works whose unsettling beauty tears flowers out of their conventional role. To achieve this, she has completely avoided any staging, capturing ordinary store-bought bouquets in their original state. She explains: “My intention was not to elevate the flower to a Mapplethorpe-style event, but rather to leave it as it is presented to us.”

Without shadows, the bouquets appear almost two-dimensional. The depth of the images is left entirely to the viewer’s eye. The beauty of the blossoms is neither highlighted nor subverted. We are thus confronted with exactly the flowers we see and buy every day—familiar, yet suddenly alien.

Winkhaus’ flowers are not depictions of the bloom as a fascinating sexual organ, as in Robert Mapplethorpe’s work. Nor are they timeless displays of opulence, as painted by 17th-century court artists specializing in floral still lifes. Nor do they capture a fleeting moment of optimism, like Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, painted while he awaited Gauguin in Provence.

Winkhaus’ flowers reflect what currently pleases us.

Their lush colors and size are as intoxicating as flowers are meant to be—like insects, we are drawn in, compelled to get closer.

Yet, upon closer inspection, we notice details: the plastic test tube anchoring the tropical orchid, the cellophane wrap embracing the gerbera, the rubber bands restraining the wilting tulip stems, the plastic nets encasing the supposedly noble and proud roses.

None of these accessories were staged, making their stark contrast to the usual associations with flowers even more striking. Their preservation aids fight their impermanence. Their mass-produced, plastic-wrapped presence contradicts the uniqueness we so admire in all things natural. And yet, in our collective consciousness, flowers have retained their reputation as nature’s gift—something we continue to pass on. Likewise, the magnetic pull of these floral images remains intact, even after we recognize their bizarre modes of presentation.

The near-reflexive love we have for flowers is reflected in this series, as Winkhaus plays with it before tossing the ball back into the viewer’s court. The idea that flowers are inherently beautiful is not overturned, perverted, or questioned. Instead, they are shown exactly as they are consumed today. Winkhaus presents a contemporary document rooted in one of art’s oldest desires: the timeless depiction of what is currently considered beautiful.

This is what we want. This is what we get. Stunning.

Thank you for the flowers.

—Text: Jacqueline Thomae