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What Martin Fengel (*1964 in Munich) extracts from the repletion of objects can be described as somewhat eccentric. Colorful mop buckets or the wrinkles of a white pillow are deemed picture-worthy by him, and when he turns his focus to flora, his attention is given to the unnoticeable details of unnoticeable plants, a few delicate roots. The act of selecting his photographs themes, the decision for sparseness rather than abundance, which he simply ignores, constitutes photography for Fengel. “Basically, it’s about showing things the way they are because I find the appearance of things very much in order.” Statements like this point to an unshakeable pragmatism and, in an entirely unidealized sense, materialism. The focus on the object is enough for Fengel. He uses the possibilities of the selection of photographic details and the exposure during the photographic process, while categorically rejecting additional manipulation: “Everything that, either through photographic tricks or editing, results in improvement is horseplay.” If you view the graphic emphasis and the formal reduction of his compositions, you’ll want to spontaneously agree. And where no lines are too many, where everything stays the same at best, the photographer’s desire not to make any unnecessary work for himself or for us leads him to proclaim the essential argument for his photography through a rather terse understatement for the as of yet undecided: “The advantage of plant photographs is that you don’t have to water them.”