Vernissage: 30.04.2025 | 6pm - 9pm
Happening: 31.05.2025 | 4pm

A rainy day in May

Softly, steadily, and in its very own rhythm, the rain patters against the windowpane. As the sky outside draws together in a milky grey, a quiet sense seeps in indoors—the feeling of having to do nothing, yet being able to do anything. On the tips of the leaves, droplets gather into tiny beads of rain, and as the first puddles form on the ground, the scent of lilac and damp earth rises into the air. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, a tiny tomato sprout makes its way out of the drain, reaching toward the outside world.
In Kevin Lüdicke’s solo show A rainy day In May, everything grows organically—from a small seed into a larger image. A line, a droplet, a pear—with clear contours and sketch-like elements, the act of drawing becomes a starting point for contemplating the small within the vast. The drawings accompany the artist through daily life, collecting thought experiments and fleeting moods, only to develop a life of their own on paper. Often, these are spontaneous impressions that move forward without a fixed plan or expectation—open in all directions, yet always guided by their own inherent visual logic. As in painting, each drawing opens multiple doors, inviting the viewer to step inside and explore what is depicted. Along the black contour lines, detours emerge time and again, as unexpected details appear—small surprises in the moment’s unfolding.
Kevin’s working process is both inquisitively precise and effortlessly light. His images—whether drawn or painted—are composed of various visual elements that do not strive toward a single center but assert themselves in their subtle displacement and independence. And yet, quiet, subtle connections arise: a color accent reappears, a motif reflects itself elsewhere in altered form. A mysterious glow, a glint of light on wet asphalt, wooden frames on matte color passepartouts within the canvas. Everyday things are often gently distorted, shifted, or exaggerated—yet never pushed into the unnatural or impossible. Rather, the images open up an expansion of the imaginable and draw attention to unique forms emerging in the interplay between human and nature. The painting moves effortlessly between open gesture and controlled detail, between blank spaces and overlapping layers. Color-wise, too, a broad spectrum unfolds—from muted, earthy tones to intense, almost vibrating hues that flash up as accents or spread in layers across the pictorial space. These small moments function like poetic particles within a larger visual structure. With ease, Kevin’s works move between figuration and free form, between collage and narrative, between dream and reality, between root and crown.
The sound of the exhibition is a gentle splashing. In the middle of the exhibition space, one encounters them unexpectedly: water fountains that do not spring from wells, but from a vase or a bicycle bag. These small interventions seem scattered into the scene as if in passing—almost as though the water had found its own way. The even murmur becomes the still point of the exhibition, a reservoir for gazes and thoughts—like the rain tapping against the glass, setting the pace of the day. As in the drawings and the paintings, it is again the fine, surprising details that appear—not loudly announced, but quietly revealing their effect in the moment of discovery—softly, playfully, and at times almost a little magical.

Text by Leonie Rösler & Marlene Sichelschmidt