Manuela Karin Knaut
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Nov 6
- 5 min read
German artist Manuela Karin Knaut works out of Braunschweig. She uses canvas, cloth, cardboard, tape, and found studio supplies in her painting and mixed-media pieces. While traveling, she does short sketches or notes that she then reworks in the studio. By applying layers, covering, scraping, and adding again, she constructs her surfaces. Her paintings always use the same colors and shapes, yet they vary somewhat from one piece to the next. Until the piece reaches a point where she feels it is accomplished, the process remains open.
Q: When you begin a new work, what is usually the first impulse?
A: A new work often begins with a physical sensation rather than a concrete idea. It can be a fragment—a colour, a texture, a memory, a scrap of material on my table—that triggers the desire to respond. My first impulse is usually to move, to act, to make a mark before I allow my mind to take over. I trust the initial energy of not knowing, the moment when the work is still open and full of possibilities. This uncertainty is precious to me; it’s where intuition becomes a kind of compass.
Q: You often keep materials, objects and images around you in the studio. How do you decide what becomes part of a work?
A: I collect objects, papers, fabrics and fragments almost the way others collect stories—they wait in the studio for their moment. I don’t force anything into a work; instead, I let the materials signal to me when they’re ready. Sometimes something lives in my studio for years before it finally connects with the right piece. It’s a quiet, intuitive negotiation between what the work needs and what the material has to offer.
Q: You work in both painting and installation. What makes you choose one format over the other?
A: The format usually reveals itself through the idea. Some concepts demand a surface—they want to unfold in gestures, marks, pigments, layers. Others push outward and require space, physical tension, and the experience of the viewer moving through them. Installations allow me to think in three dimensions, while painting lets me compress complexity into one plane. Both modes feed each other constantly.
Q: What can installation do that a painting or object alone can’t?
A: Installation can shape atmosphere. It can encompass the viewer, disrupt orientation, and activate the body as much as the eye. While a painting can be emotionally overwhelming, installation creates a different relationship—it asks you to enter, to navigate, to be part of the work. It transforms the viewer from an observer into a participant, expanding the emotional and conceptual range dramatically.
Q: Your process involves layering, removing and reworking. What does this way of working mean to you on a practical level?
A: On a practical level, it means the work is always in motion. Layers accumulate like traces of experiences—paint, pigment, cement, fabric, ink. Nothing is fixed. I build, scrape back, cover, reveal. This constant reworking mirrors my understanding of memory and identity: shifting, porous, never entirely complete. It’s not a linear process; it’s more like navigating a landscape of chances and accidents.
Q: You’ve lived and studied in different cultural contexts, including South Africa and Germany. What stays with you from that time?
A: Living, studying, and completing my Master of Arts degree in South Africa has had a profound and lasting impact on my artistic development. The years I spent there exposed me to an intensity of colour, rhythm, and social complexity that continues to resonate deeply in my work. South Africa taught me to embrace unpredictability, to work resourcefully, and to trust the raw energy of experimentation.
Germany, in contrast, shaped me academically and structurally. It provided a strong foundation in critical thinking, methodology, and artistic discourse. The interplay between these two contexts—one vibrant, layered and intuitively driven, the other reflective, disciplined and analytical—has become an essential duality in my practice. They continue to inform and strengthen each other.
Q: Working as an artist today involves many roles: studio work, communication, visibility, networks. How do you deal with all of that day to day?
A: It’s a delicate balance. My studio is the place where everything begins, but the reality of contemporary artistic practice extends far beyond making the work itself. I collaborate with assistants and rely on professional support for many aspects of my activities—archiving, communication, photography, logistics, and the organisational tasks connected to exhibitions, teaching, and international projects. Yet despite this support, much of the responsibility ultimately remains with me, and I’ve come to accept that this is simply part of the artistic life I’ve chosen. Over time, I’ve learned to see these parallel roles as interconnected rather than distracting. They help sustain the work, protect its visibility, and maintain long-term relationships with galleries, institutions and collectors.
Q: How does play or experimentation fit into your studio routine?
A: Play is essential. Without it, my work would become rigid. I allow myself phases where I work without expectations—testing materials, building improvised tools, making quick monotypes, or responding spontaneously to whatever is at hand. These moments fuel everything else. They remind me to stay open, to wander, to challenge my own habits. Experimentation is not a method; it’s an attitude.
Q: At what point do you feel a work has reached its final state?
A: There comes a moment when a work feels as if it begins to close in on itself—when its internal logic becomes clear and it no longer invites further interference from my hand. Often, I notice a subtle shift: the piece stops pulling me forward and starts holding its own ground. When that happens, I know I’ve reached the point where adding or removing anything would do more harm than good. I often need distance—a night, a week—to recognise this moment. It’s less a decision and more an acceptance that the work has found its voice.
Q: What’s the next step you’d like to take in your practice?
A: I’m interested in pushing the dialogue between painting and installation even further—blurring the boundaries until the work becomes an environment of gestures, layers and found materials. I also want to deepen my international collaborations, continue teaching in different cultural settings, and explore how movement and performative elements can enter my visual language. Ultimately, I want to stay curious and remain open to transformation.
