Gerhard Wichler
"I’m encouraging the viewer to experience the physical world in a reimagined way.”
Shaping the Foundations
I was introduced to Gerhard Wichler through a close friend and fellow art enthusiast, and it quickly became clear that his work demanded a deeper conversation. Wichler is an artist of considerable talent, known for intricate abstract compositions built from structures, systems, and geometric forms.
Following our first meeting over lunch, we arranged a video interview––a welcome opportunity explore further. I wanted to understand the cultural influences and personal history that shaped his inner person, as well as the motivations and methods behind his practice. What emerged was a rare glimpse into the private world of an introverted artist who prefers to let his work speak first.
Wichler lives and works in Leipzig, in eastern Germany and since 20217, has been a member of Kingkonkret, an artist group based the city. Born in 1963 in Lutherstadt Wittenberg, he grew up in the former East Germany. His early fascinations—maps, mathematical symbols, and comics—followed him into adulthood and continue to echo through his visual language today.
“It’s interesting to look back on my childhood. As a young person in Eastern Germany in the 1980s, I often found life quite boring and the environment underdeveloped. Still, I nurtured a passion for drawing geographic plans—especially maps of foreign states in the West. I had a deep longing to visit Western Europe, even though it wasn’t possible at the time.”
From 1980 to 1994, Wichler undertook an apprenticeship in Karl‑Marx‑Stadt ––now Chemnitz––working with industrial and geographic plans. In his free time, he began shaping the foundations of his geometric artistic expression. Alongside this more technical work, he also enjoyed comics and started creating small characters of his own
He then went on to study at the HGB (Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig), where the curriculum focused primarily on pictorial and figurative art.
In 1989, he began his military service just as the Berlin Wall fell—an event of global significance that also opened an unexpected personal door. For the young Wichler, it finally made his long‑held dream possible: travelling to Western Germany.
Since 2001, he has worked as a freelance artist, receiving a scholarship at the Künstlerhaus am Lenbachplatz in Munich. From 2020 to 2023, he also lectured at the Leipzig School of Design.
The visit to the West proved pivotal, offering an entirely new experience for the eager 26‑year‑old. His most striking memory from crossing to the other side of the former Iron Curtain was seeing abstract art first‑hand. At that time, the genre was rare in East Germany—his art school, for instance, focused purely on figurative or object‑based work.
Although the promising young artist wasn’t surprised by what he encountered in the West, having devoured images of its cities in magazines during his earlier years, the trip proves a major personal milestone and marked the true dawning of his abstract artistic expression.
Works by Gerhard Richter and others left a strong impression on the young apprentice, and as our conversation progresses, Wichler’s memories prompt a reflection on his choice of art school. Cities such as Munich and Berlin, he concedes, might have offered a more satisfying place to study than Leipzig, given his leaning towards abstract art — despite the recognised value of learning to draw the human body as a foundational discipline.
Wichler’s technical background and apprenticeship certainly facilitated his transition to abstract art — later shaping his artistic style — yet he acknowledges that, on a deeper level, concrete art was the source of his enduring love for abstract form.
“It’s not about following a rigid abstract–concrete doctrine; my work carries a strong historical and spiritual undercurrent and serves as a living space for my mathematical tendencies. Both sides of the coin are important to me, but over the years I’ve been seeking greater freedom within my artistic expression.”
This is borne out in the way Wichler has, over the years, loosened his focus on mathematical forms, placing greater emphasis on ‘free art’. He illustrates this transition through the example of his printed works.
“Whether I start with circles or squares, I try to be more inventive. I use increased quantities of colour, which I layer — blue, yellow and so on. I turn the plates in different directions, which gives me more freedom. This contrasts with my earlier works, which were more concrete and based on lines.”
Studying Wichler’s art, one can appreciate its technical detail, a characteristic underpinned by an intense understanding of geometric shapes—and in its own right, the cause of the beauty. His mind appears to redefine and reinvent the shapes that industry despatches to us on a daily basis—telling us all to look again and see it as Wichler to sees it - exquisite, precise and purposeful.
The Process
Wichler’s process begins with a simple idea — a circle or a square. Using a stencil, he cuts a printing template to test the concept. From there, he starts to experiment and build on it, layering colour, shifting orientation and developing the piece playfully.
Linography — a relief‑printing technique that uses carved linoleum plates — is his passion. He prefers working on plain white sheet paper, especially Japanese paper, which he explains is more flexible and best suited to mono‑colour printing — another of his preferences.
As if to underline his passion, he adds joyfully,“Its Winter now and I'm having so much fun with prints!”
I’m curious to learn how he achieves such precision in his geometric shapes, and he discloses they are drawn in pencil using a set square. The plate is cut free‑hand, allowing only a narrow margin for error. He then uses offset colour for the printing process.
The experimental phase can take up to three weeks, he tells me which includes a gap of two to three days between the different colours applications. Furthermore, fifty or sixty prints of multiple colour variations can emerge from this process, which in its entirety can last up to six months.
Wichler also creates hand drawings using pencil and acrylic paints. These works can take up to half a year to complete, though he often sketches simply to develop ideas.
I’m keen to delve a little deeper into the emotional experience of creating his pieces. My initial attempt draws an informative yet slightly practical reply, a reminder that I may need to go further to reach the deeper impulses that shape his practice. “Working with prints brings surprises, he discloses, “whereas drawing is more technically challenging, requiring greater preparation to hone the idea accurately and determine how the concept will unfold on paper.”
As the light falters and the darkness of evening envelops the screen, a certain ease enters his expression, suggesting that my considered persistence is helping move us into a more introspective register — one that deepens as the interview progresses. “I deliberate more on whether a drawing composition is finished or not. The start of a drawing is very important because I can’t change the strategy easily once I’ve committed to a certain approach. The first line and the first colour are crucial. It’s high stakes, a little nerve-wracking–– I have to make the right decisions up front.”
Wichler’s work is undoubtedly grounded in perfect geometric forms, and I feel compelled to introduce a question that gently disrupts that logic: during his process, does he ever intentionally allow imperfection to create a sense of unpredictability?
In response, he argues that small mistakes are not only inevitable but valuable, as they reinforce the handcrafted nature of the piece. He notes that absolute perfection is impossible with the techniques he uses and can only truly be achieved through a computer—a point he says echoes the precision found in the work of Swiss modernist Max Bill, whose almost‑perfect compositions contained subtle irregularities that revealed the human hand.
Offering further logical clarity, Wichler escalates the technical details. “My precise, fine geometric shapes allow little room for manoeuvre. Unlike a print, I can wait, then change the colour. With a drawing or a painting, if it’s not right, I have to start again with a clean sheet of paper,” he says. “I’m very mathematical, and if I take a circle, for example, I have to use mathematics in my planning to work out precisely how many circles will be needed for the composition to sit correctly on the paper. There are many other factors that influence the precision, such as the amount of paint on my brush, which needs to be accurately measured to prevent bleeding. I use tape to create a clean line.”
Beyond the technicalities, his studio routine unfolds with a contrasting calm, with the artist taking on a relaxed rhythm. He often pairs these creative hours with ambient music — a kind of synchronised ritual as he moves between printing and painting, depending on his mood and how the work is progressing that day. Increasingly, he works in silence.
We transition into another topic — the role of AI in abstract art — as I am keen to learn his thoughts. Wichler’s viewpoint is immediate and unequivocal.
“I hope I’m so original that AI cannot top it!” he retorts, laughing, when I pose the question.
“Moreover, he continues, "we should ask ourselves what is possible with AI. Can it imitate an oil painting––a Van Gogh, for example––or even create new concepts like Picasso? It’s too perfect. It’s not possible — or at least I hope not!”
The conversation circles back to the value of slight deviations that give a work its uniqueness and authenticity — before shifting gear to the question of scale.
For Wichler, scale is largely determined through the act of photographing his initial sketches, a process that allows him to assess proportion, balance, and the visual weight of each composition before committing to its final form.
Art's Emotional Pull
I return to the emotions that art evokes for the artist, curious to understand where his own thoughts and feelings sit within the ecosystem he has constructed — a world of geometric shapes, grids, and mapped‑out logic that appears, at first glance, to leave little room for sentiment.
I ask whether art serves for him as a form of meditation — an emotional refrain that loops back, time and again, to a theme of silence.
“Perhaps not so much emotional as spiritual,” he replies, “supported by the music. I feel a certain state in my body, and in that moment I’m in the flow. I don’t need noise or gaiety; I feel spiritual when I’m working in silence on my technical art. That’s good for me internally. I need it.”
Our introductory encounter comes back to me — that moment when I sensed a Buddhist or even Persian influence in his work. My mention of this sparks a recollection for Wichler, of the avant‑garde composer John Cage and his extraordinary organ piece As Slow as Possible. This work forms the basis of the 639‑year performance in the St. Burchardi Church in Halberstadt, Germany — the longest-running musical performance in history. The piece began in 2001 and is scheduled to conclude in 2640. Notes change only every few years; the most recent shift occurred on 5 February 2024, with the next planned for 5 August 2026. It is, unsurprisingly, a source of inspiration for many artists.
Veiled in the John Cage analogy from Wichler is the belief that, despite life’s challenges, we have time—and we need to take it. Endurance carries its own quiet philosophy of unhurried persistence.
“I am frequently asked how long a piece of work has taken, and I do not see the sense of that question, as it assumes we must work to time. But what is the value of that? The time it takes is less important to me. What matters is the process and the feeling — even more than the end result. And this is the ‘political’ message in my pictures. Enjoying the moment is to be thriving…”
Poignant words, and a strong reminder to live in the present.
He continues with quiet clarity: “I have company around me at the studio and I visit different countries, but I always have a longing to return to my studio, where I enjoy my silence and my private world. Afternoons and evenings are tranquil, offering a creative space to make the art that I love.”
Reimagining the Natural World
Wichler’s work continues to hold an affinity for order, shaped by the religious and cultural structures from all corners of the earth that carry an enduring fascination for him.
“Similar underlying structures appear across cultures, and I find Japanese and Persian (Iranian) art particularly appealing. I try to bring these influences together while reimagining their forms in my own work”, he shares.
Plunging deeper into the symbolic architecture of his work, we turn to the tension between order and chaos. I ask whether the forms of chaos that sit beneath the surface of many societies find their way into his pieces — and, if so, how that turbulence is translated or held within them.
“My pictures are an abstraction of real landscapes and of the symbols embedded in nature’s typology — the kinds of forms you see on Google Maps, for example, when looking at topographic areas around the world. Twenty years ago, this was a completely new experience”, he reminisces.
He continues his reflection with “Three‑dimensional shapes are etched onto the earth’s relief. You can fly over Pakistan and see rhythms even in the positioning of the villages — it’s very beautiful. The mosaic of shapes is hypnotic, and I love transposing these images into a distilled picture, infusing my understanding of the actual landscape and its people. I suppose I’m encouraging the viewer to experience the physical world in a reimagined way, through my lens, making the connection between real and abstract worlds.”
I couldn’t agree more with Wichler’s words and feel that he is inviting us to pause, to dream, to behold the planet’s beauty as a bird might perceive it — discovering a world that lies beyond the concrete surfaces of daily life.
Fascinated, I try to capture the essence of Wichler’s message as communicated through his geometric shapes. As he builds on his story, citing concepts such as the vastness of time, I imagine a portal where space and time fold into one another — a place where real and earthbound experiences mingle with the fantastical.
“My Eastern German soul is present in each picture, he continues, — my childhood lives in my art, and even working in Leipzig carries its own emotional pull. I am surrounded by many figurative artists with very different creative languages. Yet my passion lies in abstraction, and I find stronger influences for this genre in places such as Munich or Basel. Staying true to my beliefs, my work becomes a gentle resistance to the old East German system.”
What Lies Ahead, and What Remains Within
Wichler’s solo exhibition at the Landes State Museum ten years ago marked a defining moment in his career, drawing significant publicity and strong visitor acclaim. Since then, he has staged smaller exhibitions and reflective showcases, alongside his current primary focus on prints.
“The Corona outbreak was a steadying moment that allowed me to concentrate on my artistic practice. Now I’ve developed a good balance, and it works well for me.”
“Next year, he continues, “I have a two‑ to three‑month scholarship in Halberstadt, in the middle of Germany, where I plan to explore other techniques such as etching. Beyond that, I’ll walk in the countryside and simply create pictures of the landscape. It will be a stimulating contrast to my abstract work.”
“Smaller exhibitions will take place in 2026, and I may also exhibit again in the Landes State Museum. And in 2027, our association of artists in Leipzig will be celebrating its ten‑year anniversary with a major exhibition.”
Our interview draws to a close, but before we part I ask for his thoughts on what might sustain future generations of artists. Wichler remains faithful to his philosophy of time — insisting that an artist needs space to mature their craft. “Early success is wonderful,” he says, “but the real question is how that momentum is carried forward. Many talented young artists who rise quickly are just as quickly superseded and forgotten later in life.”
Over the course of our conversation, Wichler’s emotional arc reveals itself slowly.
Unexpectedly, it is time — not precision — that forms the anchoring current of his practice.
While maps may have held his attention in youth, it is through the unhurried, steady essence of his art that he now finds emotions that sit closest to his soul. Experience has shown him that the journey of creating takes primacy — and when that understanding is not inhabited, life can slip by unrecognised. A slow‑burning creative energy gathers quietly when one finally senses there is no need to hurry.