In the work of Anouk Lamm Anouk, the artist stands beside the dog, breathes with the horse, and dreams like the sheep. These animals are not simply subjects; they are a language—one through which the artist communicates with the world and proposes a way of coexisting. Based in Vienna, Austria, Anouk explores the structure of being and the essence of sensation through painting, installation, and text. This exhibition follows the recurring presence of animals in her work—sensitive forms that function as presences rather than symbols—offering a quiet proposal for solidarity and coexistence between human and non-human beings across painting, object, and installation. Anouk’s paintings create an atmosphere that is at once sensual and poetic, using raw linen canvas and a palette drawn from nature. The animals that emerge are not icons, but perceptible presences—entities that breathe and move in rhythm with the human figures who appear alongside them. As seen in series such as Human/Hound, Human/Horse, and Nostalgia for a Future, Anouk’s work dissolves the hierarchy between human and animal, depicting moments of mutual permeability—organic, entangled scenes of becoming. This exhibition features key works such as the horse embryos of Pferdchen, Pferdchen, the hybrid human-lamb figure in Becoming one, and the tender fawn forms that stand as symbols of innocence and loss. The monumental inflatable installation Herd N°3, composed of 25 horses suspended in air, becomes a spatial meditation on presence, memory, and time. In these works, animals reflect the human condition while simultaneously inviting us to remember the forgotten language of sensation.

Anouk’s practice resists interpretation through intellect alone—it privileges perception over logic, presence over metaphor, and communion over contemplation. At the heart of the exhibition is the text Angels never die, written by the artist herself. Through the figure of the white poodle, Anouk leads us into a reflection on pace, perception, softness, and the interwoven nature of human and animal life. What follows is a text written by Anouk Lamm Anouk in preparation for this exhibition—offered not only as an introduction, but as a work in its own right, breathing through and with the artworks that surround it.

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In Anouk Lamm Anouk’s exhibition Angels never die, we are invited to follow a white poodle—just as Alice follows the ever-hurried White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Traditionally, white symbolizes purity, innocence, and lightness. Yet in Lewis Carroll’s tale, the white rabbit also embodies anxiety, urgency, speed, and pressure—apt metaphors for the world we live in today. Always in a rush, and yet always too late. Never enough, even when we give everything. Is that healthy? Animals, by contrast, stand for slowness, presence, and mindfulness. What we might learn from them is how to fully inhabit the present moment—and through that, rediscover the power of our own vitality. In Anouk’s world, the white rabbit becomes the white poodle. Poodles are an ancient breed, first described in 1555 by Conrad Gessner. With their high-maintenance coats, they epitomize domestication—but like all animals, they embody presence, here and now. The second dog Anouk ever had, and the first as a young adult, was a small white poodle named Ava.

Angels never die.

 

As we move through the exhibition, we encounter several white poodles. They appear in paintings, in sculptures—guiding us from one work to the next. In Anouk’s world, the white poodle represents childlike curiosity, optimism, and the goodness of the world. If we follow them, we will find beauty. If we lose ourselves in Anouk’s visual universe, everything will be okay. The exhibition explores the deep bonds between humans and animals—and what animals might still teach us. In the history of art, animals are often included in portraits as secondary characters. In Anouk’s work, they are central—one could say, the poodle is the protagonist. Human/Hound, Human/Horse, and Nostalgia for a Future are all represented here in layered depth. For the first time, so many of the shaped canvas works are gathered together in one space. Among them, two pieces from Pferdchen, Pferdchen (“Little Horses”) depict horse embryos embracing. One black, one white, they speak of duality and complementarity. Like yin and yang, they complete each other and become whole. Another work presents a hybrid figure—a fusion of human and lamb—titled Becoming one. Becoming one is a process of total intimacy. To merge with a being of another species may seem provocative to some. But for those who are currently merging, it is utterly irrelevant. This act of becoming—of two souls inhabiting two different bodies, coming into union—offers a deeper, timeless understanding of connection. Hybrid beings have long fascinated humanity. Across cultures, they carry mythic weight, often endowed with supernatural qualities. A third shaped canvas features two fawns, gently turned toward one another. Fawns represent natural innocence, life in harmony with nature. And yet we all remember Bambi—the story of loss at the hands of humans.

Mythic creatures also populate the large-scale installation Herd N°3, composed of 25 sky horses suspended in air. Sky horses, in Greek mythology, pull the chariot of the sun—from east to west, day to night—a symbol of time’s passage. And here again, we return to the White Rabbit: always rushing, always too late. The disappearance of the rabbit in the exhibition becomes a metaphor for the slipping away of time. The poodle, on the other hand, has time. Time to pause, time to look. In Greek myth, the sun chariot is pulled by stallions. But in Anouk’s herd, the chariot is absent—so, too, is masculinity. Horses live in matriarchal herds, led not by dominance but by inner calm. Young stallions eventually leave their maternal group to form transient, unstable bachelor herds.
Herd N°3 is both an installation and an edition. The installation 13 Lambs is shown in Asia for the first time. An ongoing project that Anouk has been developing for over ten years, it is the artist’s first work to focus explicitly on anti-speciesism. Fourteen plastic bags hang in two rows on the wall, each suspended by a nail. Thirteen of them hold hand-sewn black velvet lambs. The fourteenth contains the production remnants—the discarded waste from making the installation. From a distance, the lambs appear sterile and uniform, like packaged supermarket meat. But upon closer inspection, they reveal themselves as individuals—each with distinct faces, personalities, and needs—each lovingly made by the artist’s hands.

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Anouk Lamm Anouk’s exhibition does not ask questions—it opens up a space for sensory reflection. How do we look at animals? How do they look back at us? What happens when we pause long enough to feel what softness might mean—not as fragility, but as a form of radical attention? Angels never die offers no conclusion. Instead, it invites us to follow a poodle—into a landscape woven from sight, touch, memory, and thought. And somewhere in that space, we may begin to ask ourselves, quietly: With whom do I exist, and how am I present—right now, in this moment?