Lotte Reimann

House #1, 2011
Lotte Reimann

Me on car, 2011

‘Last round for today!’ echoes the voice of the guy in the ticket booth from the speakers above our heads. Bruises on my knees and back. We rush onto the floor, jump into the cars, I kick the accelerator and steer straight for Markus. Bang. Laughter. Sparkles. Bang. Frank hits us hard into the side and my knee scrapes again along the metal edge.
‘I’ll get you back!’ Markus calls and winks his right eye.
Frank laughs. He is after two girls, his eyes are stuck on their backs. He doesn’t see us coming. Bang. Right, left. His head flies back and forth as if his neck was made of rubber, which it wasn’t.
‘You’re crazy!’ he shouts, as he brings his head back under control, tapping his index finger on his forehead.
Thomas stands at the side waiting. He whines. His girlfriend had called again. Why we weren’t coming and anyway he would also have his fill of this constantly waiting for us.
‘Sourpuss!’ I say, jumping at his back. ‘She could also have come along, your girlfriend.’
He laughs and throws me into my brother’s arms. Stumbling, we make our way to the tram. I’m tired.
‘Hey, what’s that?’ someone says behind me. ‘Three guys and one cunt – do they all dip one’s in there?’
Damn. I turn around. Somewhere I’ve seen them before, I think. Then I stop thinking. My brother pounces on the tall one, smashing his right fist down on the middle of his face. He stumbles and lands on the ground like a beetle on his back. Legs in the air. My tiredness is gone and I bow down to him, slowly, until my lips are touching his ear.
‘If anybody’s a cunt here, it’s you,’ I whisper and grab my brother’s arm, pulling him over to Frank and Thomas. Somehow he was always faster than the others. Not stronger, but faster.
‘You just can’t leave it, do you?’ Thomas says. He shakes his head and rushes into the subway. We look at each other and shrugging our shoulders we get on the train after him.

Bumper cars, 2011
Lotte Reimann

Mother and me, 2011

Lotte Reimann

Car #1, 2011

We are on our way home. Thomas and Markus are reeling arm in arm down the street, the bass is still booming in my head as if it hangs on strings stretched between my ears. Shivering, I stick my hands into my pockets and hit something sharp with my knuckles. It tingles. ‘First one there drives!’ I call, the key jingles in my hand and we start running. The streets are empty, full of that sunday morning emptiness. The city is so sluggish, as if someone had drugged the wind. A single thick mass, that suffocates you, that tries to bring you to a halt, to a standstill. Like a person who can never decide. Yes, no, maybe, I don’t know. It makes me sick. ‘Come on – faster!’ Thomas is jammed between the front seats, we come to a stop and his fingers claw into my shoulder. The traffic lights are red and I hold my hand over my eyes. Squealing. Laughter. We roll down the windows and scream out into the silence. ‘Over there,’ Markus whispers,
I turn off the engine and we roll up silently to the car at the stop line. Crackles. ‘Bang, bang!’ I shout through the cranked down driver’s window, I aim at him and pull the trigger. The guy’s face freezes and I press my foot twice firmly on the gas pedal. Laughter is rolling through the Golf from behind and across me onto the street. I join the laughter and the guy in the freezer next to us slowly starts thawing again. ‘Happy sunday though!’
I grin over and we race off. The morning light is glaring in the rearview mirror. I can’t remember how many times we’ve played this game already. It is always the first time.

Driving, 2011
Lotte Reimann

Motorcycle, 2011

Lotte Reimann

Race track, 2011
Lotte Reimann

Me with scraped knees, 2011

My graduation work "Guffaw" consists of a short novel and an installation of 12 images and 5 short stories. The images were glued to the wall like posters with the texts spray-painted over image and wall.

It was shortlisted for the Steenbergen Stipendium, the Gerrit Rietveld Academie Award, the Young Blood Award and finally won the international Still Image Prize in 2011.

Here’s an excerpt from the GRA jury report which might explain some things I couldn’t say any better:

Lotte presented a photo-novel of what the jury called ‘low-life-richness’. They thought it was a crossing between Richard Prince and Thelma & Louise, done by no-one else before. The presented images give an insight in her emotional world and the story she tells is very well written. The intimacy of the work is enormous and sometimes made our jury wonder: ‘Are we allowed to read and see all this?’ They felt as if they were on a journey inside Lotte’s mind and therefore they were thrilled to nominate her.




Lotte Reimann


Lotte Reimann

Installation view at the Rietveld Akademie in Amsterdam, 2011