I saw the hairnets on the white walls of Heike Weber’s studio. That is, I just about saw them. Perhaps I only saw the shadow of the sheer span. It is difficult to say what one really sees. The nets themselves are more like apparitions. Apparitions of fluff that dance before your pupils. You quickly think it’s only your imagination, an irritation of your lenses, only in your head. But this is not the case here. The whole thing is no phenomenal trick of the eye, no veristic trompe l’oeil, no trap for consciousness, since these are precluded by the geometric form of the rectangle, which restricts any fantasy of the mind. The four nails, to which the hairnet is attached, form the corners of the square and put an end to any guessing game.
This type of transparency is what I love about art. It seduces but lets you go again. What remains is the memory of a fascination. Of something that had been there; a visual whiff, a delicate touch of the eye. As a result of the flicker of the fine nets, you can feel your vision become corporeal. That this happens because of hairnets plays no big role here in the studio. Heike Weber extracts the materiality from unassuming everyday articles and paints pictures with them.
Doris Krystof, Cologne