INTERVIEW WITH FRANK KUNERT

With his photographic miniature worlds, Frank Kunert offers us the fascinating opportunity to discover the great in the small. At first glance, the work of the Frankfurt-born artist presents deceptively real reproductions of interior and exterior spaces, but on closer inspection the architectural scenes reveal hidden secrets: Why are the scenes devoid of people? What is behind the bricked-up balcony? And what does it feel like to sit upside down in a car attached to a Ferris wheel? In conversation with Hatje Cantz, the artist provides a deep insight into his artistic career, the relationship between reality and art and his working process.

Hatje Cantz: Mr Kunert, your miniature worlds seem incredibly realistic on the one hand, but on the other they unfold a surreal, sometimes even eerie atmosphere. Have you always worked like this? And what has changed in your creative process in recent years?

Frank Kunert: When I started creating small scenes in the 1990s, my approach was much more playful - even though I was already interested in the absurdities of life back then. But my worlds were initially populated by clay figures that I had created for this purpose. At some point, I realised that the backdrops were becoming more and more realistic and almost invited me to let them speak for themselves. So I left out the ‘people’ and gradually focussed on designing buildings. I was always fascinated by how traces of ageing can breathe life into a façade. Even today, when I go for a walk, I am sometimes irritated when I see that a house that is familiar to me and is getting on in years is suddenly being renovated and the patina is disappearing. In my work, I want to create a place for this patina and the life that has been lived. And, of course, the absurd in our world - that hasn't changed in all these years.  

Frank Kunert: Auf hohem Niveau

Hatje Cantz: When you look back on the beginnings of your artistic career - is there a particular memory that you regard as a key moment in your career?

Frank Kunert: It wasn't at the beginning, but it was very significant for the development of my current work: I remember a holiday in Alsace in 2001, when I saw an old house that made a lasting impression on me - perhaps because of its aura of a certain dreariness, and at the same time it seemed dignified to me with its inconspicuous construction. I had only seen it from the car as I drove past, so my memory of the details is not very clear, but I got the feeling that buildings can tell stories that go far beyond the purely architectural. As this incident coincided with my experience of miniature backdrops that had become more realistic, it was indeed an important key experience for me and the ‘starting signal’ for my way of working, to which I have now remained faithful for over 20 years. 

Hatje Cantz: In your latest book project Carpe Diem, Eva-Maria von Máriássy describes the fusion of ‘serious’ art and humour in your work. Are your photographs an expression of your world view? Do we live in a dystopian world that can only be viewed with humour in order to endure it?

Frank Kunert: My photographs are clearly an expression of how I see the world. Life is a constant up and down. People search for happiness, sometimes they find it, only to lose it again from one moment to the next - or very gradually, almost imperceptibly. And with all the small and large catastrophes that we encounter, a certain distance helps us to bear the dystopian aspects of our world. In the long run, the seriousness of life is only digestible with a pinch of humour. 

Frank Kunert: Streichelzoo

Hatje Cantz: Hatje Cantz: Your new book shows works from different series. Is there a ‘common thread’ across these series or a central theme that runs through your entire artistic career?

Frank Kunert: Yes, there are certainly several recurring themes, including the question of how people treat themselves and others and how we seek and find solutions to problems. However, as the problems are often so complex and unmanageable, it is often only possible to implement small-scale solutions that sometimes seem to be characterised by a more or less endearing actionism. And so, of course, new problems keep cropping up. Ultimately, my work is about all the ambivalence in life, the constant hope, our fears, failure and moving on. At the same time, the idea of transience and the inevitable end, death, plays a major role in my pictures.

Hatje Cantz: In your photographs, it is not people who are in the foreground, but deserted scenes. What does the absence of people in your pictures mean?

Frank Kunert: Even if the people are physically absent, I still try to show their traces. There's a glass on the table here, rubbish lying around there. Who knows, maybe someone will enter one scene or another again soon - at least that's how it looks in my imagination. For me, architecture, both entire buildings and interior spaces, is a fitting metaphor for so-called civilised life. And so I want to create a projection surface: My photographs are like stage sets that you can play with your own thoughts and fantasies. In the scenes, I often show houses that are getting on in years, on which the ravages of time have gnawed and are still gnawing away. Nevertheless, they still stand there with their sometimes fragile charm and a certain pride - at least that's how I feel. Life in and around them seems to work somehow. Even if the scenes depicted may often seem strangely absurd, I think that the people who might be in them have actually made life quite cosy for themselves. 

Frank Kunert: Menu a deux

Hatje Cantz: Your working process is characterised by craftsmanship and is primarily analogue - which is unusual in an increasingly digitalised art world. What are the reasons why you continue to rely on this analogue way of working, and how does this decision influence the creation of your photographs?

Frank Kunert: Even though I am not averse to digital techniques and have been photographing exclusively digitally for some years now, the basis of my work is still very analogue. If you look at the current technical developments in artificial intelligence, my approach certainly doesn't seem particularly efficient, at least in terms of the time involved. But that's exactly what makes it so appealing to me: I first have an idea, which I record in my sketchbook, sometimes keeping it for months or even years, playing with it again and again and thinking it through further. At some point, the moment comes when I feel I'm ready for the three-dimensional realisation. Then the slow approach begins: I build a backdrop with my hands and try to give the original idea a visible shape. When I break ground on one of my modelling sites, I often don't know exactly what it will look like in the end. Both the exact composition and the atmosphere created by the light only crystallise step by step. Even though I'm not always the most patient person in everyday life, I practise pausing and taking a closer look when I'm working. And that's the real core for me: it's not about the quick solution (even if I sometimes really want one!), but about paying attention to every moment while doing something, because this sets the direction and, in the best case, can also provide impulses and ideas that I didn't think of at the beginning of a process. That is still very exciting and inspiring. Especially in a time that is becoming increasingly fast-paced, I have the impression that reflecting on analogue craftsmanship can be a great enrichment. 

Hatje Cantz: Are there any current or planned projects that you can give us an insight into?

Frank Kunert: I've been working on my new series Dreams Come True for some time now. I'm already showing individual photographs from the project at exhibitions (some together with the miniature backdrops themselves), and perhaps a new illustrated book will emerge from this project in the future.

The interview with Frank Kunert was conducted by László Rupp in January 2025.