The Kitsch

We all remember that moment as a child, staring up reverently at Grandmother’s shelf full of meticulously arranged knickknacks. All those wonderful little figurines—bunnies, birds, porcelain girls. So delicate, with their exquisite curves and velvety smooth surfaces, their dainty forms frozen in playfully elegant poses, their gentle features, their coy smiles and maudlin gazes. These tchotchkes fascinate us because they capture a moment of pure beauty and make beauty timeless. 

Our fingers twitch, we need to touch that delightful little thing, to clasp it in our hands like a chick inside an egg. But no touching! Agitate, Grandmother immediately comes bustling over in fear for her treasures. She proudly tells her grandchildren about every single item in her collection. But there is no satisfying that yearning desire to touch the oh-so-sweet little figurine, as Grandmother sternly warns: “Porcelain figurines are very fragile!” The figurines’ delicacy only makes them all the more precious. We feel an overwhelming urge to protect them, to safeguard them from the chaos of the world, to stave off the destruction of their inherent perfection. Our delight in these baubles goes hand in hand with a fear of ruining their flawless surfaces. 

How well I remember the day my grandmother gave me a tiny porcelain doll of my own, to make up for the fact that I was never allowed to play with hers. I was certain that this toy was the most beautiful thing I had ever owned, with her full head of blond curls, the sky-blue tulle dress, her plump lips red as cherries. It broke the very first time my sister and I took it to the yard to play. The shock of seeing her severed snow-white leg lying on the brown cobblestones still haunts me to this day. The inviolability of such curios makes them even more desirable to children. Not being allowed to have something only makes them want it more: “Mama, I want it, I need it!” Parents often can’t fully fathom their children’s desperate desire to lay their hands on so perfectly beautiful an object. For them, these knickknacks are often nothing more than useless, tacky dust catchers. As we grow up, the longing slowly fades away. We admit to ourselves that our parents were right, all those cute dolls and animals really are horrible. Cleaning out my childhood bedroom now, the old porcelain clown in the midnight-blue silk costume that turns up under the bed just seems hideous. Ashamed, I toss it straight into the trash. 

That urgent need for kitsch only seems to reignite as we reach our twilight years. Unlike children, the elderly can indulge their urges without inhibition, filling entire homes with kitsch. But what exactly is this desire for kitsch about? Why do we need kitsch—especially at the beginning and end of our life? Things are kitsch when they are merely beautiful and nothing beyond that. Kitsch is simple, free of contradictions, it banishes all complexity and reduces everything to a pretty surface. As a result, kitsch is often defined as the opposite of truth, as a treacly falsification of the world. Perhaps that’s why kitsch holds a special fascination for the very young and very old. The child sees the world in its pure beauty and does not question it; the aged are driven by the desire to recapture this childlike simplicity. We are born into the world with that innocence, and we depart with a longing to return to it. In the meantime, though, it all seems pretty dreary. 

This shoot was published in the print edition #2 “The Beauty Issue”. You can order the magazine in our SHOP.

Viennese artist Ernst Miesgang (*1980 in Linz) studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna and works in collage, sculpture, and photography. As the raw material for his artwork he uses easily and abundantly available objects whose appearance “really pisses him off.” Inspired by the natural sciences, his work provides fresh perspectives on the familiar in order to shake up the viewers’ habitual ways of seeing. For his series Shattered (2014-2018), Miesgang smashed tacky ceramic and porcelain figures, gluing the shards together with epoxy resin to form new creations. The sculptures appear at first to be anatomical models. On closer inspection, however, they reveal themselves to be purely products of the imagination. Miesgang has exhibited in Vienna, Helsinki, London, Moscow, and Athens.