Dominique Teufen's landscapes are reminiscent of a wild and untouched nature. The mountain rises sublimely against a misty sky, the sea moistens the warm sand, the water shimmers, the night falls on a salt desert. These black-and-white images are reminiscent of the explorations of mountaineers who climb the peaks with kilograms of heavy equipment to immortalise broken edges and steep slopes. They are reminiscent of the grandiose glossy views of National Geographic, worn out by too much viewing. They are reminiscent of the millions of shots taken by day-trippers who soullessly capture the same landscapes in every corner of the world.
That wonderful moment lasts only a fraction of a second, perhaps a few moments, and then the eye realises it has been deceived. It becomes disillusioned. There is neither sweat nor sunscreen here: the artist questions both the conditioning of the viewer and the boundary between representation and illusion. To create these dummies, she uses a photocopier on which she cleverly arranges papers, plastics and objects. Teufen, whose career began with the study of sculpture, reverses the inherent qualities of photography with her material experiments. She delivers the photo album of a fictional journey made in the studio. It is an ode to the inner life and imagination that can be perceived quite differently when the only horizon is four walls.