Our powers combined we form, WORLDWIDE, the power of friendship.
We forget we enjoyed modernism, led by hand, school group, through Art's hallowed atria into the heart of painting, children learning to look up to it. Socially engineered by cadmium at scale. Our love for painting so ingrained that of course artists tortured it. Rooting the modernist corpse for one more magical rabbit of identity, a painting. The magic trick of Zobernig's corpse step - but there's less modernist meaning at stake than a painter's ability to renege on signature, identity, to evade it. This is so instead of recognizing a painting, we have the painful obligation to look at it. A painting as opposed to a signature.
See too: Amy Sillman at Sikkema Jenkins, Joanne Greenbaum at Crone, Rochelle Feinstein