Kunstmuseum Heidenheim an der Brenz
supported by Erwin und Gisela Stiftung
Between Großkuchen and Kleinkuchen lies a landscape that was deeply cherished by my partner and me. We often referred to it as the “Tuscany of Swabia.” It was a place filled with our shared memories, a landscape where we would walk through the fields before and after Kaffeezeit on weekends, exchanging thoughts about life and finding inspiration for our artistic practices.
After my partner passed away, this landscape began to reveal itself to me in a different way. In particular, the Hochsitz standing in the middle of the fields gradually took on a new meaning. One day, it suddenly appeared to me like a small observatory, an elevated structure connecting earth and sky, a place from which one might come a little closer to the heavens.
In Korea, there is a tradition of honoring the deceased by offering their favorite foods and seasonal fruits. Reflecting on this custom, I found myself asking a simple question: what if I were to place my partner’s favorite cakes in this landscape and offer them to the sky? Would this gesture bring him joy wherever he may be?
From this question emerged a project that extends beyond a personal act of mourning into an artistic exploration of place, memory, absence, and hospitality. Coincidentally, the two villages framing this landscape both carry the word “Kuchen” in their names. The fields between them became a symbolic stage where cake (Kuchen) serves as a medium through which memories can be shared. The disused Hochsitz, meanwhile, gained a new life as a structure that connects earth and sky, past and present, absence and presence.
Initiated in 2022, the project encountered numerous administrative and practical obstacles along the way. Yet through conversations with the City of Heidenheim, encounters with local hunters, and the generous support of the Erwin Gisela Stiftung, the former Großkuchen city council representative, the Jägerverein, and Kunstmuseum Heidenheim, it was finally possible to realize the first intervention and place the first cake in the landscape.
The first cake, a Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte (Black Forest Cherry Cake), is not merely an object. It is a greeting to a loved one, a memorial altar, and a bridge connecting different cultures, landscapes, and communities.
I hope this project encourages hikers, walkers, and commuters, people who may not often encounter contemporary art in their daily lives—to pause for a moment, if only briefly. And I hope that this pause becomes an opportunity to encounter art through a memory of love: sweet, yet tinged with bitterness.
