Everyone loves the smell of their own brand, and the miasmia of this "immersive installation" wafts in with a laugh of its aesthetic impropriety. Like a fart joke. The bastardization of the proper. Stray paint and design faux-pas. Even the more tasteful tinged yellow by Armelder's power bomb of a painting. It's a gas. Paintings which look the way "oopsie" sounds. Whether or not anyone else loves is it in relation to how deeply trapped they are with it. Fart aesthetics in the high speech.
see too :
John Armleder at Fernand Leger ,
Ida Ekblad at Herald St.
