The Swiss-born, Amsterdam-based artist Batia Suter (b. 1967) studied at the art academies of Zürich (CH) and Arnhem (NL), and was also trained at the Werkplaats Typografie.
Suter produces monumental installations of digitally manipulated images for specific locations, and works on photo-animations, image sequences and collages, often using found historical pictures. In 2007 and 2016 she published Parallel Encyclopedia and Parallel Encyclopedia #2, artist books based on compositions of images taken from old books she has collected along the years. Her other books Surface Series, Radial Grammar and Hexamiles (Mont-Voisin) are evocative montages of found images exploring the diverse resonances of geological shapes and landscapes, visual surfaces and image structures.
It was very nice for me when I got asked to take part in this. I was, I think, sixteen when I took some pictures of a glass of water outside in the sun, and I was extremely triggered. I realized maybe this—photography—could be my job; maybe I am a photographer. It was an intense moment where my worldview was changing.
For me, it was logical to do this project on this glass of water. (I was extremely curious how it works for other people.) I was looking back to see if it was possible to find those pictures, but they are in a Switzerland store, and I couldn’t find them. Then I just took the most classical glass that I can imagine, filled it with water, and took a picture—and immediately many things that are important in my work played a role.
One thing is the struggle with the shadow, so I decided to take a picture of the glass without the shadow. I always try to reduce shadows as much as possible and feel guilty about it! Also, this fascination for lenses of abstraction in something very real was playing an important role. This clash of two systems into one means that, on one hand, I see the glass as a kind of cage for the water; on the other hand these two forms of something are liquid. The glass was liquid—I mean it was sand first, and then it was made liquid—and then it was frozen.
This was the starting point.
Then I started to combine pictures from my archive that, for me, play a role in the idea of a glass of water:
I think it’s always good when you look at something to also consider the opposite. This allows you to get the idea clearer, to get it sharper, play with its opposite, to get some new corners, new angles, to look at.
One of my absolute favorite books is called An Album of Fluid Motion. I found wonderful old German books, wonderful pictures, from around 1920. From that time it was starting to be possible to go into the material and to see things, and everything was unfolding at that moment.
So that is also an aspect that is very strong in my work. If I see water in a glass, I immediately try to imagine what is inside on a very small level, what lives inside. It is similar to what you did, Alex, with your glass—the way that something is growing. In my case it’s happening in my imagination; it’s all about ideas of what could happen and playing with that:
It’s always doing something to me to see these photographs that are cut in the middle and show two worlds, two completely different worlds.