In reality, the works of Michaela Strumberger are benign beings. In truth, they are evil. An older term is sinister. They have their origin in a benign maliciousness, which is the most wicked form of all maliciousness, as it strips everything down to the bare bone. Thomas Bernhard would’ve delighted in it. All of a sudden, the man in the street comes face to face with himself. All unexamined moments come forward like beetles, each crawling and swarming about, lit in the colours of a mathematically corporal suspension. Beetles cast in wax and fitted with hair, a step farther away – pooh! Kerstin Parlow on “Bliss”