Nina Lola Bachhuber’s “Untitled/2010.” (calfskin, steer horns, wigs, polystyrene, paint, tights, leather, branches) Photo by Javier Cambre, courtesy of Momenta Art
Nina Lola Bachhuber can glean a lot of evocation out of just a couple materials. In her rectangular banners, or “flags,” currently at Momenta Art, those materials are silky acetate fabric and human hair. Though uniform in dimension and color (all works in the show are black), each flag possesses a unique personality through the use of strategic cuts and woven hair. A few resemble dresses with fur trim. Others are more animalistic, evincing horse manes and rodent tails. The creepiest pieces, however, have got to be the ones that look like the backs of human heads—pigtails, ponytails, combed coifs—all of which could be scalps removed from schoolgirls. The flags are like tribal insignia for esoteric neuroses.
At the center of the exhibition sits a sculpture that further instills the idea of primal urges. Two beasts perch on tree branches and square off as if preparing to do battle. These twin creatures are made of calfskin masks the size and shape of human heads, with shoulder-length curly hair and steer horns protruding from the mouth area. They evoke sadomasochism as well as some dark sacred ritual. Monochromatic and bleak, “Nachtschatten” raises questions of mortality, femininity, instinct, and allegiance. Like Joseph Beuys before her, Bachhuber finds sacrosanct energy in organic materials. Unlike Beuys, her work is pristine and under control.