Beyond the Frame
Menno Aden’s Journey of Abstract Realism and AI Innovation
Menno Aden, a Berlin-based artist, is celebrated for his Room Portraits series, where he transforms familiar spaces into abstract yet captivating compositions. With a background in Bremen and inspiration drawn from artists like David Hockney and Otto Umbehr, Aden’s work merges realism with abstraction, inviting viewers to see everyday environments from entirely new angles—quite literally.
Through a process that involves stitching together individual photographs taken from above, Aden uncovers the hidden patterns of our architectural surroundings. His work explores how we are shaped by the spaces we inhabit and the objects that define us. Lately, Aden has been experimenting with AI, using it to push his creativity even further and challenge traditional perceptions of reality.
In this interview, we explore Aden's creative process, his thoughts on the rise of AI in art, how music influences his work, and the ways he continues to push the limits of his own photography.
Pilar Alvarado: Your work is often described as ‘abstract realism.’ How do you ensure your photographs remain relatable to your audience while maintaining the abstract elements?
Menno Adem: I like the term “abstract realism” because the words "abstract" and "real" seem contradictory. In my series Room Portraits, the term refers to two things: on one hand, the works depict real spaces, but at the same time, they’re shown from such an unreal perspective that abstract patterns and systems of order become recognizable, which illustrate our enclosed lives in our “habitat.” The patterns are real, but we aren’t familiar with such a view because it’s constructed. Each room in the Room Portraits series is composed of many individual images, similar to Google Earth, which consists of many satellite images. In other words, to show reality, it sometimes takes a montage of images.
For me, it’s always a bit of a balancing act—how much my pictures remain understandable for my audience while retaining abstract elements. However, this often happens automatically due to the perspective. Honestly, I don’t mind if the photos aren’t immediately comprehensible. Quite the opposite.
PA: In your Room Portraits, you usually avoid including people to allow the furniture to speak about the space. Have you ever been tempted to add human elements or explore how artificial life forms might "inhabit" these spaces?
MA: In the beginning, I sometimes showed people in their rooms. But I quickly realized that this takes the tension out of the pictures because the rooms are immediately related to the people living in them. The fun of detective-like guessing—of figuring out the relationship between a person and their room or their objects—is lost. My photos in the Room Portraits series are portraits of people, sometimes of all of us, but based solely on their rooms, furniture, and objects. It's a bit like a revival of the old baroque quod libet trompe l’oeil painting, where painters depict themselves using objects. I’m thinking of Samuel van Hoogstraten's pegboard from 1666, which fits today’s material world, where we often define ourselves through things.
In fact, there are very few pictures in the Room Portraits series where people appear, and even then, they’re only hidden, like living pieces of furniture.
PA: Much of your art challenges how we traditionally perceive space. How do you break out of your creative routine when you feel confined by your usual techniques or perspectives?
MA: Built-up space surrounds and influences us constantly, especially in a city like Berlin. Architects and urban planners tell us where to walk, interior designers guide our movements in stores—it affects us more than we realize. I aim to visualize this in the Room Portraits series. We live in grids; right angles dominate us, trapping us in a “built corset.” Architecture guides us because, unfortunately, we can’t walk through walls. I once made a film where you see a person in a hotel from a first-person perspective who can walk through walls and closed doors. Maybe it reflects a suppressed desire for freedom. Haha.
PA: Your Room Portraits often present spaces from an overhead, almost satellite-like perspective. Have you considered applying this approach to non-traditional spaces, such as virtual environments or the metaverse?
MA: I experiment with 3D programs and rendered rooms because they allow me to build interesting, impossible sets. However, in the Room Portraits series, the approach remains analog and a bit outmoded. It may initially look like the room was rendered or is a photograph of a miniature model, but on closer inspection, you realize everything is real. The technical imperfections reveal that I actually walked through these rooms with a camera, taking many individual photos of the ceiling, which I then stitched together like a jigsaw puzzle.
PA: How do you feel about the rise of AI in visual arts? Could AI play a role in your creative process, particularly in the editing required for your composite photographs?
MA: In my Room Portraits series, I sometimes use Photoshop's AI technology to cut out motifs, expand areas, or retouch unwanted parts automatically. Adobe Firefly also has some interesting features. However, AI still struggles with overhead perspectives; there are too many glitches.
My latest series, Devices, was created almost entirely with AI—mainly Midjourney. It focuses on devices meant to improve our lives but are ultimately pointless. As with Room Portraits, it’s about the power of the objects that surround and influence us. AI “hallucinates” these devices from existing information and indirectly visualizes human desires. While AI can support creative processes and be personally inspiring, it’s important to maintain a critical distance from its results. Otherwise, AI art risks becoming “effects art,” somewhere between kitsch and camp. That said, I’m excited to see where AI leads in the future.
PA: Music and art are often intertwined. Does a particular type of music or soundscape influence your work, especially during the long editing process?
MA: I love abstract and repetitive music because it mirrors the structure in my photos while helping me focus. I often edit while listening to DJ sets. If my pictures emitted sounds, they would be monotonous, bass-heavy beats.
PA: You’ve mentioned early influences like David Hockney and Otto Umbehr. How do you stay open to new influences with the rapid changes in technology and culture?
MA: Hockney and Umbehr were curious people with great ideas. The art of creating art is staying true to your interests and visual language instead of chasing trends. However, I admit that experimenting with new media, distribution formats, and collaborations is fun, even though most attempts lead to dead ends. That’s part of the creative process: sifting through tons of rubble for one diamond.
PA: Your images represent everyday spaces but from unfamiliar perspectives. Have you considered collaborating with other art forms, such as dance or performance art, to extend this concept of spatial disorientation into a live experience?
MA: I now enjoy theater, but I’ve had very little interaction with performance art. I prefer the analytical and neutral approach. But if someone proposed a collaboration tomorrow, I’d have ten ideas instantly. Themes like “walls,” “limitations,” or “surveillance” are intriguing for performative art. I have video and sound in mind…
PA: How do you deal with imperfection in your work, considering how meticulous your composite images are? Is there beauty in imperfection for you?
MA: I believe in leaving minimal traces of work in my photos—small mistakes that show I actually took the pictures. When I see old work, I remember the struggles, both what didn’t work and what did. As Nam June Paik said, “When too perfect, God gets angry.” So yes, beauty needs imperfection; otherwise, it risks becoming boring.
PA: If you were to create an interactive digital experience based on your work, what would it look like? How might viewers interact with your photographs in an immersive or augmented reality environment?
MA: Probably something interactive, with video and sound—claustrophobic rooms filled with bass sounds, strobe lights, and fog. Maybe like a techno club for just one person in the size of a telephone booth, where visitors party alone one after another.