M.K.: I was never interested in any kind of material iconography. Necessity always made the relation. Shalechet is a very good proof of this approach. First my drawing on paper became a line cut in iron. The cutting line is sharp, and in touching my iron sculptures a caressing hand is liable to be grazed or even wounded. Nothing springs forth without pain.

For the Jewish Museum in Berlin I translated Shalechet, the Hebrew one-word term for «fallen» or «dead leaves», to «Abblätterung». It’s also the best translation for the material process, even if it is not communicable.

T.H.: Tell me more about that name.

M.K.: In the autumn all the leaves are falling. As Ungaretti wrote, «fallen soldiers are like leaves in autumn». But I never wanted to make a monument for the Jewish people. It could be for the First World War too, wherever people get killed. It could be for Hiroshima. We don’t work for the past or the future, we talk about it, but you don’t issue warnings. Art after all doesn’t change existing situations like peace or marketing, business et cetera, but maybe art can alleviate a certain pain.

T.H.: So first of all, the context of your art is not specific, and second, your art is not compulsive. Your work reflects not on one single historical archive, but rather on the modern paradigm of sacrifice as such.