Like Richter’s cold representation, Terada’s re-presentation, painting, of Goldstein’s bio is hollowing, emptying, left with the bones of pathos emerged from the evacutation of Goldstein’s overt romanticism. The doubling splits the experience between finding yourself engaged reading Goldstein’s text and remembering that you are looking at paintings of the text, once removed. The overlay of contextual flippage - reminiscent of Levine/Lawler’s invitations to “their” presentation of a ballet that wasn’t - never attempts to become the Quixote, but often finds the two text-surfaces collapsing to touch, as when Goldstein speaks of appropriation, or the necessitude of 2-d paintings for artworld seriousness which we find ourselves looking at, we find the projects merging, reflected in the other, an appropriated subject that begins talking back, almost self-aware, as if Goldstein himself was aware that the personality that preceded him would one day warrant this, this Kosuth like defining of contextual baggage.
