Shiny mountains of meat layered on top of each other like a sausage counter, physical masses reminiscent of roast roll, greasy bodies that look like plucked chickens. Rolf Ohst's fascination with immense fleshliness and its special presentation immediately brings to mind Roald Dahl's bitter narrative pig, in which a reclusive vegetarian comes to town, learns to love meat, to be frittered by himself. If there were not additionally the decided motives that Rolf Ohst lends to art history.
Whether Botticelli's birth of Venus, Giorgione's Venus in a landscape or Titian's Venus in bourgeois interiors about the acts of Rubens, Rembrandt, Manet, Renoir, Modigliani, Matisse to Cézanne or Corinth, Rolf Ohst quotes them all. He exaggerates Baroque profusion to extremes, paints Botticelli's Venus in gracefully trembling, shy obesity and likes to place his characters by the sea in front of dramatic baroque clouds, which also bring the seascapes of the Dutch alive, the figures are held in the style of the Classical Modernism. And then, when he dubs Edward Munch's famous Scream, a dull, fat beauty reminiscent of a stranded, gasping whale, the sampling is perfect. Rolf Ohst manages to connect with nude, cheeky and humorous in the best tradition to the nude painting and to convict them in contemporaneity.