Past: Talia Chetrit at Sies + Hoke
"The particular fabric of business suits and the explicitness of world's origin selfies' rawness makes for an interesting fetishistic photography."
Past: Talia Chetrit at Sies + Hoke
"The particular fabric of business suits and the explicitness of world's origin selfies' rawness makes for an interesting fetishistic photography."
Perform our little tortures of cultures. Twisting its nipples to make it say uncle, make it "speak." This stands for criticality. A corpse forced to dance with all the electricity of abstraction. Take culture, give it a little stir. This is our auto-ritual. This is how we make it "mean." Stand in for meaning. These aren't paintings of the t-shirts, these are the t-shirts.
See too:Eliza Douglas at Overduin & Co., Eliza Douglas at Air de Paris, “No Joke” at Milieu
"Group shows always look like you blew up a shopping mall, like its reassembly after catastrophe, like hangers categorizing airline wreckage. Trying to make sense in debris. Us, a cargo cult. Us, a primitive culture, drawing aurochs on our white cave walls. With the debris of culture. Our Mystic auto-anthropology. "
"art treats culture as a system of artifacts to be interrogated by its own white light certification process, a factory for meaning production."
Which this show takes literally. Less a criticism than the exhibition understanding, reifying, the cultural ether. This is what these shows do. Catalog the wreckage.
Past: Michaela Meise at STANDARD (OSLO)
"Meise's 15 years of reproduction of modernist tropes in awkward phrasings is, like Raoul de Keyser, its visual aberration: Meise's (or de Keyser's) irregulairty forces a recognition of their having been a regularity, a system of rules to which these avoid conforming. ... allowing inference to see why these wouldn't have been acceptable then ... Like, placing the thing outside the circle allows the circle to be seen at all."
Michaela Meise at STANDARD (OSLO)
Transplanting content into a different frame, here a dishwasher. The white space of art becomes the cube of watery dispatch. Anything in it will get wet, clean. A fantasy.
Past: Phillip Lai
"What Romance! The remnants, records and romance of the hand, the touch. The expressionist stroke absorbed into sculptural gesture, a sensitivity so heightened they feel stunted by their own fetish of sense. The fetishistic attention to details which remind us of all the sexual deviant's interest in attachments, space, and knots, the fetishist knowns the beauty of his knot is bearer of his love, the pleasure in pained restraint."