Intervening installation
Pax Christi Krefeld, April 3 – June 30, 2025
Developed in cooperation with Büro für Produktbeschwerung (Office for Product Complaint)
Created at the invitation of art director Sebastian Blasius

Materials:

Bubble wrap, gauze bandages, barrier sheeting, thin plastic sheeting (Lupo foil), vacuum packaging, construction netting, fabric banner with sewn-in laser-cut typography, transparent wall lettering, floor lines (3 × 3 stripes), earth cable, ceiling light; sandbox pilgrimage (art transport crate, pallet truck, compostable costume, hangtags)

After The Bar at the Kaiser Wilhelm Museum, FORTUNA is Epsteins second solo exhibition in Krefeld — this time not in a museum, but in a church that has breathed like one for decades.

FORTUNA has no opening moment and no finished image. The installation emerges over weeks, almost imperceptibly: artworks disappear under bubble wrap, chairs are vacuum-sealed, windows are veiled with construction netting. On the red brick walls, phrases become legible like watermarks — Fortuna ist raus (‘Fortuna is out’), in his (invisible) hand. Three lines grow from the altar into the room: rays of a cross and three stripes at once. And just as gradually as everything appeared, it disappears again. In the end, the room has withdrawn into itself, as if nothing had happened. Or almost nothing.

Fortuna ist raus — Epstein heard that sentence on the radio when Fortuna Düsseldorf (the football club) missed its promotion. But Fortuna is also the goddess who distributes luck blindly, her eyes covered. The installation stretches between these two Fortunas: between football stands and liturgy, brand logo and gesture of blessing, the invisible hand of the market and the promise of being held by God. The coverings that are meant to protect also expose the vulnerability of what they enclose — the artworks, the room, faith itself. All of it depends on being affirmed, again and again, in order to hold.

Pax Christi is no neutral place for this. For its founding priest Karl-Josef Maßen (1931–2017), contemporary art here was a site of doubt, a critical companion to the liturgy. In his words, what we call revealed truth must allow itself to be questioned again and again — we need those who ask, those who set out, and that is where art and artists come in. Works by Joseph Beuys, Ulrich Rückriem, Magdalena Jetelová, and Günther Uecker run through the brick building — art that does not illustrate, but confronts. FORTUNA takes Maßen at his word and carries doubt back into the room: the existing works are wrapped, overlaid, placed in a new light — temporarily, without a trace, and yet as an intervention that sparked lively debate at the artist talk.

During the exhibition, an art transport crate was also driven right into the rows of chairs: sandbox pilgrimage temporarily found its place in Pax Christi — as if it had landed exactly where it belonged.

The exhibition opened one month before the birth of Epsteins daughter. That, too, is part of this work: a body in transition, a room in transition, a partner who also took the trains — and in between, the question of how luck can be distributed well.

in easy words 

FORTUNA is an artwork.
It is an installation.
An installation is an art room.
This installation was in a church.
The church is called: Pax Christi.
It is in Krefeld, Germany.
The artwork was there from April to June 2025.

Pax Christi is a special church.
There is a lot of art in this church.
The art is from famous artists.
The art has been there for many years.

The priest of this church was Karl-Josef Maßen.
He collected the art.
He said:
Art may ask questions.
Art may show doubt.
Doubt means: you are not sure.
Even in a church, doubt is allowed.

My artwork also asks questions.

FORTUNA grew slowly.
Every week something new appeared.
I wrapped some artworks in bubble wrap.
I packed chairs in plastic.
I hung nets in front of the windows.
Words appeared on the walls.
One text said: Fortuna ist raus.
This means: Fortuna is out.
Three long lines grew on the floor.
They started at the altar.
The altar is the special table in a church.

Then the artwork slowly disappeared again.
At the end, the church looked like before.

Why is the artwork called FORTUNA?
Fortuna is a football club in Düsseldorf.
I heard on the radio: Fortuna lost.
Fortuna is also a goddess.
A goddess is a female god.
Fortuna is the goddess of luck.
She gives luck to people.
But she cannot see.
So nobody knows: who gets the luck?

My artwork asks:
What do people believe in?
Some people believe in God.
Some people believe in money.
Some people believe in brands or football.
Believing gives people hope.
But believing can also break.

Some visitors liked the artwork.
Some visitors did not like it.
We talked about it together in the church.
That was good.
Art can start these talks.

During the exhibition, a big wooden crate came into the church.
The crate is also an artwork.
It is called: sandbox pilgrimage.
You can read about it on another page.

The exhibition started one month before my daughter was born.
So this time was special for me.
My body changed.
The church changed.
Both belong to this artwork.

I made this artwork together with: Büro für Produktbeschwerung.
Sebastian Blasius invited me to the church.

FORTUNA was my second solo exhibition in Krefeld.
A solo exhibition means: an exhibition with art from only one artist.
My first one was Die Bar.
Die Bar was in the Kaiser Wilhelm Museum.

Image 1-13 Installation view FORTUNA (gut verteilen; ‘to distribute well’)
at Pax Christi Krefeld, 2025
Photos by Felix Adam

© VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn