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Works by Patrick Baumüller.
I was peaking into the windows of galleries along Schleifmühlgasse to see what’s goin’ on in
route to beat the early Saturday morning rush for fresh fish at near by Naschmarkt when I
came upon a show at a new gallery:

“OHNE MARIE GEHT AUCH HIER NICHTS!” (Same Here, No Dough, No Go) by Patrick
Baumüller at the Michaela Stock Galerie in Vienna

The work viewable only from outside this early in the morning came across nonchalant yet suspicious in
this particularly small but engaging space. A tin roof “Mélange Cheminée” associated with a shack to
bootleg gin billows splintered conversations and other audio through multiple air vents and took up most
of the floor space. A Spiro-graphic string contour drawing of the hood armament of a Rolls Royce
“Spirit of Ecstasy” greets you at the door. On the opposite wall is a large photograph of especially
prickly cacti with a declaration from Marie Antoinette, “I’m afraid of being bored” inscribed. A gang of
Spiders the size of basketballs made of black bendy-straws held together with black tape for bodies the
size of human hearts cling to the ceiling like flies on a wall.
But directly in my line of sight while peering through the
window, glistening through a dark brown tinted glass door of a
back room framed off with what I’ve found out later to be
styrofoam bricks welded together by spray foam, a small neon
dolphin is spotted ascending from a splash. I became
remorseful and walked away wondering why it was necessary
for this artist to exhibit in a space that had to share it with what
looked to me to be yet another a gambling joint in Wien.

Now an artist is “lucky” to be fronted by a situation that
exposes their prejudices, gets you out of your comfort zone
and forces you to abandon the glossary you’ve stockpiled in
order to negotiate through critical discourses and contexts in
contemporary art with conviction and certainty only to be
called out with staggering humiliation. It can only serve as an
epiphany for someone like me.
You see they don’t have OTB’s here. Instead they have these sports betting shops that come off more like cafes
with colored neon sports logos and the words Drinks, Snacks and Games blazoned through dark tinted brown
glass windows and doors.
The only sign to act as a deterrence to the wanderings of the under aged is a small decal just
above the handle of the entrance that reads, “Zuritt unter 18 jahre verboten”. These depots of the despondent have sprung
up rapidly through out Vienna. Some are their own domain while others take up residency in the rear of other shops.

So when I saw “flipper” splashing around in a back room through a shaded glass door with all the obligatory decals that
adorn the entrance of a betting joint designed to bury you deeper in despair, it was actually “The Lucky Dolphin”, the
installation and corner stone of the show that duped me into buying into the ills of my own misreading and intolerances.
Flash back to L.A. 1998   

How one must have felt when carrying their unemployment check up to what by all accounts and appearances
looked like a new check cashing depot conveniently and seemingly sprouting up under the cloak of night on
Camden Drive in Beverly Hills, in the 90210 area.
When in fact it was an installation where an artist modified the
facade of the gallery and its front interior to exceptional representational detail to that of one of the many check cashing
depots located in more “strapped” parts of the city where Rolls Royce hood ornaments are more likely to be found
attached to the handle bars of gang members’ bicycles.

Pushing forward 11 years later in Vienna:
Though done on a smaller scale without the budget that this “palace of power” in “The Hills” provides the affect of
Patrick’s “Gambling Room” was as poignant and even more leveling with cynicism indicative to the deft hands and
disparate cunningness that Patrick assembles in these desperate financial straights.

What made this slight of hand so sly and stunning were the modest materials applied to the task of dealing with such
socially relevant topics like money, wish-fulfillment and boredom. While others have “spent the bank” on fabricating
work from some of the same resources used in the commerce and trade game (Diamonds) that helped take it all down,
Patrick Baumüller uses resourcefulness and ingenuity to say more with less and resonates a more deafening eloquence
without consorting with the “enemy” or in his terms, “Marie”, translated in colloquial terms means Dough.
My own performance based work makes me favor “Fix is nix” (Nothing’s for Sure) 2005. It predates with casual
savvy the demise in the global economy. Patrick shredded the bank notes of the Austrian National Bank in Innsbruck
and formed them into a sculptural version of the graphic bar (that indicates the downward curve for the Dow Jones
Index back in 1929) and installed the structure as a hand rail that is the support one uses to ascend the steps necessary
to gain entry into the bank’s higher levels. A site-specific piece, it engages the occupants of this public space by
challenging their means to navigate and gain access. The piece maintains a rather inhospitable critical vein that refers
directly and without compromise to the context in which it resides. I can’t imagine Citi Bank even considering a work
like this for their Funding of Public Art Projects in New York and displaying it in the lobby of their building at 53rd and
Though Patrick Baumüller’s work is like church and cauliflower for me; in that it may not be necessarily visually engaging with all
the trappings of the virtuosity of form. Or be the product of labor intensive processes backed by a wad of cash in order to fabricate
objects 23 times larger than is necessary, in the way my prejudicial bad taste buds at times desire. But I know when I’m confronted
with his work I am better for the experience and may be at least temporarily weaned off my appetite for the spectacle of excessive
visual consumption and may survive with less and enlightened by the virtues of prudence

Bloody hell, the next thing you know I’ll be rolling my own cigarettes.

Alexander Viscio
Alexander Viscio Presents:
"Patrick Baumuller"