Gaze Into the Finite
In the stairwell of the Kunstmuseum Basel, on the top floor, hangs Ferdinand Hodler's “Blick ins Unendliche” – View to Infinity. Five women, upright, arms slightly open, receptive. Painted in 1916, in the midst of war, as a gesture of hope or longing – depending on how you read it.
In front of it sits a young man. Slumped, legs stretched out, head bowed. His gaze is fixed on the screen in his hand.
Basel, December 2025. Kunstmuseum
I waited a while for the constellation to align. It wasn't a staged moment – the man was already there when I entered the room. He probably never even noticed the painting. Maybe he's waiting for someone. Maybe he's resting. Maybe he's already done with the museum and is scrolling through the photos he took.
What interests me is the body language. Hodler's women open upward and outward, toward the infinite. The man closes downward and inward – toward the 5x10 cm infinity of his screen.
In the Kusama retrospective at the Fondation Beyeler hangs "Pacific Ocean" – one of her Infinity Net Paintings. The canvas vibrates, the pattern pushing beyond every edge. Kusama spent her life painting the infinite: nets, dots, repetitions without end.
In front of it stands a man, his back to the painting, face to the corner. He's on a call.
Basel. December 2025. Fondation Beyeler
The museum becomes a phone booth. The art waits. It is patient, it has time. He probably doesn't.
On the Kleinbasel side, at the Tinguely Museum. I'm looking out the window at the Rhine. A woman climbs out of the water – ice bathing in December. She dries off, reaches for her phone, takes a selfie.
Basel. December 2025. Through glass
The image is shot through the textured glass, on an iPhone, in color – not my usual mode. But the situation demanded it: those layers between her and me, the painterly quality, the diffusion. Almost like Saul Leiter.
What stays with me: the moment of ice bathing is intense, physical, present. Cold, breath, heartbeat. And then – immediately – the translation into the digital. As if the experience only becomes real through the image. Or perhaps: as if it only becomes real when shared.
Not far from there, on the riverbank: a woman on a bench. She's simply sitting. Looking at the water, at the Minster, at the seagulls occupying a filthy boat.
Basel. December 2025. Riverbank
No phone. No camera. No selfie. Just presence.
Perhaps she's the only one that day who actually gazes into the infinite.
