From his technical training days, Alexander Vitkine has retained a feeling for precision and detail. The stark contrast of finely chiselled shapes against a white background evokes in turn a cinema screen and Chinese shadow theatre; an efficiency of image that, without ever seeking out the grand or the eloquent, tells the bare bones of a story the only equal of which might be the subtle poetry of Japanese sketches.
Born in Berlin in 1910, Vitkine was the product of an era defined by scientific and technological progress. Having forged a career in industry as an electromechanical engineer, he himself is the representation and raw material for his works. His photography acknowledges the schizophrenia of his century, fluctuating between a celebration of the tool and angst over the inhumanity hinted at by industrial machinery. In this abstract world where extremely taut lines define geometric spaces reminiscent as much of Mondrian as railway tracks with sinister connotations, man always seems to represent a slippery balance, a metaphor for the paradoxes of contemporary ergonomics. For beyond their purely aesthetic quality, his works prompt reflection on the rapport between man and machine.
If Vitkine appears at first sight to be the amalgamation of all artistic reflection of the 20th century, seeming in turn to nod to Mondrian, Léger, Giacometti or Vasarely, his work is nonetheless unique and utterly original. But beyond these grand references, Alexandre Vitkine stands out with a style purely his own. An unexpected poetry always rises modestly and subtly to the surface, the beauty of art in its most transparent simplicity.