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"mementos of that sentimentally thick effect of decor working socially called 'ambience.' Bottled atmosphere ferments..."
Sculpture as an image, like Mander's Nocturnal Garden Scene (who make Louise Nevelson seem underrated), beneath Spoerri's table settings, the underneath, the legs become the portal, cavern, the place we spent time as children, under what holds the adult's Morandis, in the nocturnes, in the maw, against mother's legs clutched, we found worlds in forts constructed, in makeshift boxes, a certain heat to the darkness. We're not really allowed under the tables anymore, so of course the magic trip stops halfway.
Surrealism sure, but striking.
See too: Gertrude Abercrombie at Karma
