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Eichwald's ability to make true atrociousness platable, fecal umbers into gastro-figuratives of the stomach churning they induce. Their recuperation of contradictory elements. Not reducible to series of gestures, not looking effortless while still holding onto their improbable coolness, a defining feature against the contemporary sea of gentle abstraction, rendered figuration and Krebberian Spinoff of everyone positioning their paintings look as though off the cuff delivered as god's conceptual ornaments; Eichwald's higherpowers far more immanent, even personal, pained efforts that even if postured still posturing a decidedly uncool thing to affect the trope of painters struggle in 2016. Making pretty paintings in no way tasteful.
See too: Ida Ekblad at Herald St
