Paul Niedermayer’s Portraits Bug the System

Sometimes rules are made to be broken, at least according to Paul Niedermayer. The protagonist of ‘Wildlife’ in this gem of an exhibition at The Wig, which comprises nine small-scale, archival pigment prints that purposefully undermine the rules of wildlife photography, is a ladybird. Niedermayer is known for her engagement with the methodologies that shape image-making, and the subversive meanings that derive from strategies of restaging or reorganizing certain genres.

One of wildlife photography’s key tenets is to take images of creatures in their natural habitats. So Niedermayer’s decision to order a batch of 200 ladybird eggs to her home, which she proceeded to store in the fridge until they were needed, certainly upends this field’s typical approach. She let the eggs hatch so that ladybirds could then roam throughout her house, capturing them in locations such as the bathroom, on a plate in her kitchen and under the table – a far cry from the grasslands or gardens where they’d normally be encountered.

In one image (all works titled Wildlife, 2025, unless otherwise stated), a single insect sits within an expansive plane of white, as if resting on a sheet of paper. The scene is intentionally – even provocatively – without context. The bug’s eyes glisten within its black head, antennae alert; one leg dangles forward daintily; its red body glows with orange hues while a dark shadow is cast beneath. This ladybird loves the camera and appears to be in the midst of performing its own one-insect show. The artist re-worked the photograph using editing software, enlarging the white surround to stage the insect, lending it an air of grandeur amid minimalist framing. The effect is strangely charming, personifying an insect beyond mere biological detail by distilling its gaze, which is directed at the viewer.

Another stipulation in wildlife photography is never to distort reality. Seeking authenticity, micro lenses are often used to reproduce the minutiae of life. Niedermayer, however, alters her photos in post-production, constructing conceptual images through processes of layering. In The desk in my office, the insect is reorganized as object: the ladybird’s spots are mirrored in multiple dice that are thrown across the desk, captured mid-motion. Trails of amber light trace ricocheting movement, with the camera’s slow shutter speed illuminating the dark scene. This appears to be a single shot, yet Niedermayer achieved the image by combining multiple takes within one plane. Another work further transforms these dice into blurry, abstract, black and white shapes – or, wait, are they the ladybird’s eyes? Nothing is certain in these pictures, which celebrate form, colour and mood as opposed to elemental detail or precision. 

The two most remarkable works in the show are presented as a diptych and are almost identical. One, with crisp outlines and vibrant crimson reds, depicts a ladybird poised to fly in the centre of the frame, its transparent wings extended at the edge of a cherry tomato. A colour field swirls all around – blue dissolves into white then orange as light radiates within the shot. The other is defined by richer, rubier reds and the insect is positioned at a slight tilt when compared with the one to its left. In fact, it is a photograph of this photograph. Niedermayer upends the wildlife genre entirely with this meta gesture: her subject is not wildlife, but photography itself.

Niedermayer’s approach is defined by an openness whereby there is really no difference between a die and a ladybird: they are both objects to be observed, animated and used in the service of post-conceptual photography. Any rules beyond that are redundant in the staging of this game.

Paul Niedermayer’s ‘Wildlife’ is on view at The Wig, Berlin, until 28 June 

_{Main image: Paul Niedermayer, Wildlife, 2025, archival pigment print, artist’s frame, 55 × 36 cm. Courtesy: the artist and The Wig, Berlin}