Elisabeth Lili Ochsenfeld

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t know what sort of gardens stretched across Cetatea Albă… I don’t know if aunt Mania, the paintress, loved flowers… I don’t know if uncle Afanasie, the pilot, would count the trees above which he flew and let his eyes sink onto the raw, thick crest of the flora, I don’t know if aunt Lida, the one who studied archaeology, would take out the unsprouted bulbs, to reveal fragments of glass or remnants of other civilisations… I don’t know if my grandparents tended the garden like I imagined them in my dreams… I do know that they all had a big, big house… with a big, big garden… with many, many stories… I know they did well – they lived well there, where they were, in their garden full of mysteries, fairies, birches and apple trees. And I know that one day Tristesia has made her appearance… advising them to flee.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And they’ve all started running for their lives. The earth that they’ve left behind, they have later given to me so I would treasure it, a small piece on a hill not far from Big Sur and a large and wide one in a garden at Gărâna… the small piece… It would be late when I would understand what is happening to me. The first one has been through my being unexpectedly quick. The last one though has kept me waiting in lengthy wakefulness, in long dreaming… like in the searching game… warm, warm… cold, cold… and for a long time ice-cold…

My birth in the city of flowers has occurred by chance, and my grandmother Liza didn’t have the garden anymore… still I had found it in books, in the fragrances of the stories, in the green of the unknown orchards, in the nostalgias of the memories uttered in the sunset, with the cup of tea against the lips, forgotten in the innocent, childish wonder.

I’ve promised to give myself the house of my grandparents… to give myself that present…

Zoe came into the world. Then the emigration, Heidelberg… yet where was my garden? Where was the grandparents’ house?

In 1991 its time has come, when I have bought myself a house in the mountains of Banat, a house for them and for me… for the many advised by Tristesia to run for their lives. From every bite I’ve grown an apple… and from every sigh, a jasmine flower, from every smile an elderberry… Gărâna is the CHOSEN ONE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This village of one street, with two minor “leaks”, one to the cheerful cemetery, another to the carpenter’s house, had enticed me ever since my time in school. I stayed with the Pemi, in rooms with sheets that were always damp, with holy paintings and decorations that depicted the Virgin. They took shelter in a room, holding together, keeping one on display, with a huge bed, on which a bunch of pillows perched themselves and on which puppet-like appearances propped themselves with a strange dignity. I always wondered why there was so much discomfort in a chamber that was uninhabited. A pyramid of misunderstanding embodied itself for me at every ornament… I spent many hours hiking on the riverbank, on meadows with eyes walking along the gentle hills that hug the village. Lunch was always a celebration in Mrs. Clara’s kitchen. A woman small in stature, energetic and diligent, skilled and welcoming. I’ve eaten the tastiest bread core there.

After studying, the boldness of marriage, Zoe’s birth… I’ve come back to the village. This time with her, my tiny thread of a human being. We stayed either with the Pemi, or at the guest house of Mrs. Clara, who leavened the same mirage, in the same crust.

After many years, many indeed, in this year 20 since I have the house, I’ve understood that I haven’t given it to myself, not on my own, but the grandparents, aunts and uncles have… they have flown me across the orchard that I now dwell in. They are the ones who warm up my soul and give me power for all my accomplishments with ARTHOUSE, the way I’ve named that place. They are the ones who wait for me there every spring, they are the ones who moisten my eyelids with dew in the morning. They are the ones who have lifted my eyes to the most beautiful sky in the world and have shown me the low stars of Gărâna, the ones which sit down on your shoulders and bring you closer to eternity. They! All of mine gone astray…

In front of my eyes the Jazz Festival was born at the Crossroad, in front of my eyes Niki Wolz and his partners from Columbia University NYC do theater at Gărâna, in front of my eyes the Symposium of visual arts and that of literature were born, soon to be followed by that of Music as well. In front of my eyes the Folk Festival was born and other precious cultural and sporting manifestations… In front of my eyes, the Auăleu Theater will take a seat of honor in the good-breeding periplus from Wolfsberg.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I would go as far as to say: GĂRÂNA IS A PALIMPSEST! And in each trace a star lays itself… a low star of Gărâna.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

_________________________________________________________________

BIO

 

1951    BORN IN TIMISOARA, ROMANIA

LIVES AND WORKS IN HEIDELBERG AND FRANKFURT/M, GERMANY

 

1986    EMIGRATION FROM ROMANIA TO GERMANY

 

1973    UNIVERSITY OF TIMISOARA , INSTITUTE FOR FINE ARTS

DIPLOMA IN PAINTING, GRAPHICS AND PEDAGOGICS

PROF. LEON VREME

2003    SUMMER ACADEMY SALZBURG, AUSTRIA

SCHOLARSHIP IN INSTALLATIONS WITH ILYA KABAKOV

 

1973 –  PRESENT

PAINTING AND DRAWING EXHIBITIONS

BOOK – MAGAZINE – MUSIC COVER ILLUSTRATIONS

CURATOR FOR A LARGE NUMBER OF EXHIBITIONS AND ART EVENTS

 

1987 –  PRESENT

HEIDELBERG ACADEMY OF SCIENCES AND HUMANITIES

DRAWINGS AND LAYOUTS FOR THE RESEARCH PROJECT:

ROCK CARVINGS AND INSCRIPTIONS ALONG KARAKORUM HIGHWAY

 

REPRESENTED IN GALLERIES, MUSEUMS AND PRIVAT COLLECTIONS:

ROMANIA, GERMANY, HOLLAND, FRANCE, ITALY, AUSTRIA, UKRAINE,

HUNGARY, BELGIUM, ISRAEL, GREECE, SWEDEN, PAKISTAN, USA, CHINA

 

ARTISTS IN RESIDENCES AND SYMPOSIA:

WOLFSBERG – GARANA, RUDARIA, MRACONIA – DUBOVA, CAREI, SIBIU,

BUCHAREST – ROMANIA

BURG STRECHAU – AUSTRIA

CONVENTO MERTOLA – PORTUGAL

STUTTGART – GERMANY

BOSTON – USA

VERBANIA – ITALY

 

MEMBERSHIP

ART HOUSE, WOLFSBERG – GARANA

CO – FOUNDER ART SCHOLARSHIP „E. & H. OCHSENFELD“ D/RO

ASSOCIATION OF PROFESSIONAL ARTISTS GERMANY

FREEINTERARTISTS

FEDERATION INTERNATIONALE CULTURELLE FEMININE

ARTDENDUM

 

 

 

 

CONTACT:

INFO@ELISART.DE

WWW.ELISABETH-OCHSENFELD.COM

WWW.BIRCHSCAPES.BLOGSPOT.COM

WWW.ARTHOUSE-VISUALARTS.BLOGSPOT.COM

TEL – 0049 69 558155

 

1951   GEBOREN IN TIMISOARA, RUMÄNIEN

LEBT UND ARBEITET IN HEIDELBERG UND FRANKFURT/M

1973    UNIVERSITÄT – TIMISOARA/ INSTITUT FÜR BILDENDE KÜNSTE

DIPLOMA IN MALEREI – GRAFIK – KUNSTPÄDAGOGIK

PROF. LEON VREME

2003     KUNSTAKADEMIE SALZBURG

INSTALLATION  MIT ILYA KABAKOV

1973 – BIS JETZT

MALEREI UND GRAFIK – AUSSTELLUNGEN, ILLUSTRATIONEN

KURATOR FÜR ZAHLREICHE AUSSTELLUNGEN UND KUNST ERREIGNISSE

1987 – 2012

AKADEMIE DER WISSENSCHAFTEN HEIDELBERG

GRAFIKERIN – FELSBILDER UND INSCHRIFTEN AM KARAKORUM HIGHWAY

REPRESENTIERT IN GALERIEN, MUSEEN UND PRIVATE COLLECTIONEN

RUMÄNIEN, DEUTSCHLAND, NIEDERLANDE, FRANKREICH, ITALIEN, ÖSTERREICH, CHINA,

UKRAINE, BELGIEN, UNGARN, ISRAEL, GRIECHENLAND, SCHWEDEN, PAKISTAN, USA

KUNST -SYMPOSIEN & RESIDENZEN

RUMÄNIEN, ITALIEN, USA, PORTUGAL, ÖSTERREICH, DEUTSCHLAND

MITGLIEDSCHAFT

ARTHOUSE WOLFSBERG/GARANA

RESIDENCY AWARD OCHSENFELD

BBK – DEUTSCHLAND

FREEINTERARTISTS

FEDERATION INTERNATIONALE CULTURELLE FEMININE

KONTACT

WWW.ELISABETH-OCHSENFELD.COM

WWW.ARTHOUSE-VISUALARTS.BLOGSPOT.COM

INFO@ELISART.DE

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