text by egine rode


The modular works from the series “IMPRTEXPRT” from 2015 move between sculpture and painting.

The different objects in this installation are asking about their affiliation with these media. The pieces demand for a certain freedom in categorization and do not want to reveal their nature at first glance. In their presentation they want to blur the limitations of both, sculpture and painting. Their assessment is not fully revealed.

The Installation as such operates in this same spirit.The viewer has the possibillity to view the works from various different ankles and perspectives and he is being asked: what is setting, what is backdrop? What is autonomous art object, what is back, and what is front? What is work and what is pedistal? Where is the beginning and the end of the autonomous art object?

The materials being used are not hidden. They want to be seen and facilitate that gesture.

The integration of materials refferring to global consumerism and global transportation in conjunction with the modules of the installation addresses the mechanisms of contemporary artproduction, artconsumerism and art commercialization to the same degree.


press release for the exhibition FLOREANA 2015

text by Victor Albarracin-Llanos


Regine Rode arrived to L.A. from Munich, almost two semesters ago, in the search of some utopia. As an sculptor/installer, she’s been creating structures to stage her search for a utopian space, and this search assumes the form of a set, of an unreal construction that gives voice to a fantasy, knowing that “fantasy” comes from phantasia, “imagination, appearance” and phantazein, “make visible,” but, at the same time, is close to phantasm, “something that exists only in a person’s mind” and, finally, to phantasten, “the visionary.”

Regine Rode fantasizes and works, and, as soon as the work is done, her production becomes the residue of her fantasy. A fantasy to be left to have the chance to envision it.


text by regine rode


With malicious joy the ghostdriver said to me: “Eigenlob stinks.”
I asked the captain to throw us out of the boat, as soon as the solitude of the forest was at rest.
The ghostdriver’s dark digit lead to the worldpain that one can only feel when the gate closure anxiety is over.
He looked at me and said: “We have to pack us at our own noses.”