Lia Anna Hennig’s (1981, Frankfurt/Germany) pictures are comprised of an immense complexity and overlaying of tiny marks, a myriad of strokes and squiggles, meandering rivulets of black and red ink that seem to both bind together the dominant image Hennig has chosen to depict and, at the same time, pull it apart. For if the focus is on, at one level, a foodstuff or a natural form (spaghetti, a mushroom, a human or animal figure), on another one is drawn into the physicality of the picture’s actual make-up, its compositional or material “substance” as a made thing. Hennig’s intense, concentrated images, assembled through the juxtaposition and interweaving of thousands and thousands of strokes of the pen, literally embody the substantial amount of time taken over an individual work. Although there is the implication of an “organic” or pseudo-biological order to Hennig’s drawings when viewed close up, at the same time what one is, on such close inspection, party to, is the act of drawing itself. The squiggles, spirals and stippled patterns Hennig deploys are both inventive and, within a given drawing, constrained, limited as though they might together form an alphabet or lexicon of letters or other iterable signs. © Peter Suchin