An intense palette, titanically hyperbolic bodies, and recurring faces with eyes and mouths wide open, staring out of the image frame, make Conny Maier’s paintings exceptionally recognizable. The artist marshals elements of comedy, such as the awkward postures and unbalanced proportions of her figures which are reminiscent of those of Louise Bonnet. Maier also uses moments of abrupt inversion between innocence and seriousness to raise questions about human community, social dependencies, and power differentials.“INTERDEPENDENZ 2,” Maier’s first edition for TEXTE ZUR KUNST, is a characteristic example. Two figures, whose bold colors and forms dominate the composition and which seem to consist of nothing but limbs and grotesquely small heads, lie entwined – whether violently or sensually – in a bucolic yet somber setting. The flat application of paint bears traces of vigorous brushwork and is overlaid with fine, gestural lines in oil pastel that act as disruptive elements, establishing a sense of distance from the rural idyll. The dog in the bottom right corner serves an ambiguous function. At first glance it is legible as a reference to the cute little lapdogs of the Renaissance, properly a symbol of fidelity and loyalty, but then the painting’s mood shifts when closer inspection reveals that the German shepherd is snatching at the blue figure’s sleeve. Does the animal just want to play, or does it pose a threat? Are the figures themselves engaged in play, or has a sublimated urge to fight turned serious? Given all these uncertainties, one is tempted to cling – like the lumbering bodies – to the other person or, in an increasingly hostile world, to draw hope from the patch of blue in the top left corner.