The Art of Avoidance: Felix Schoeppner’s Handle with Care and the Future of Work
There’s something deeply intriguing about the way Felix Schoeppner’s work captures the tension between human ingenuity and the systems we create to avoid our own labor. Personally, I think what makes his latest project, Handle with Care, so compelling is how it doesn’t just document the relationship between work, technology, and control—it embodies it. Schoeppner’s meticulously constructed apparatuses, particularly his “mouse movers,” feel like artifacts from a future we’re already living in, where the line between productivity and pretense has blurred beyond recognition.
One thing that immediately stands out is the sheer creativity people exhibit when trying to circumvent work. Schoeppner’s mouse movers, devices designed to simulate computer activity, are a perfect example. What many people don’t realize is that these gadgets aren’t just tools of laziness—they’re symbols of a broader cultural shift. During the pandemic, remote work forced us to confront the absurdity of the “time-for-money” model. Suddenly, productivity wasn’t about being present; it was about appearing present. Schoeppner’s devices, cobbled together from household items like fans and record players, are both hilarious and profound. They’re a testament to human resourcefulness, but also a critique of a system that incentivizes deception over genuine output.
If you take a step back and think about it, this raises a deeper question: What does work even mean in an age of automation and AI? Schoeppner’s apparatuses are presented in transport crates, suspended between use and storage. This “in-between” state feels eerily reflective of our current moment. Are we building tools to liberate ourselves from labor, or are we just creating more elaborate ways to stay trapped within it? From my perspective, this ambiguity is what makes Handle with Care so timely. It’s not just about the objects themselves; it’s about the systems they represent—systems that are increasingly unstable, transitional, and ripe for reevaluation.
What this really suggests is that the future of work isn’t just about technology replacing humans; it’s about how we redefine productivity, presence, and purpose. Schoeppner’s work doesn’t offer answers, but it does something far more valuable: it forces us to ask the right questions. Why do we value time over output? Why do we build systems that encourage us to game them? And what does it say about us that we’re so adept at creating tools to avoid the very tasks we’re paid to do?
A detail that I find especially interesting is Schoeppner’s use of materials. Chipboard and aluminum profiles aren’t just functional choices; they’re loaded with cultural meaning. Chipboard, ubiquitous in industrial furniture, carries a sense of familiarity and accessibility. Aluminum profiles, on the other hand, evoke modularity and engineering—a nod to the systems we’re constantly trying to optimize. Together, they create a visual language that oscillates between the everyday and the technical, mirroring the tension at the heart of the project.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Schoeppner’s process itself reflects the themes he’s exploring. His studio isn’t just a space for photography; it’s a workshop where ideas are tested, discarded, and reconfigured. This iterative approach feels akin to the way people improvise their mouse movers—it’s about finding solutions through continuous engagement, not waiting for inspiration to strike. In my opinion, this is where the true brilliance of his work lies: it’s not just about the final image; it’s about the process of making, the decisions, the mistakes, and the moments of pause that lead to something meaningful.
If there’s one takeaway from Handle with Care, it’s this: the future of work isn’t just about what we build, but how we build it. Schoeppner’s project is a reminder that ingenuity, whether in art or labor, thrives in the spaces between control and chaos. As we navigate a world where automation and AI are reshaping the very nature of work, perhaps the most important question isn’t how to avoid it—but how to reimagine it.
