Marie Angeletti at Atlantis

(link)

exacerbating all the annoyances of images today, Angeletti's are always claustrophobically opaque, too close, dim. Not quite sure Angeletti has ever shown in a completely lit space, and the once maybe had had lots of photos of rotational laser lighting, the sort of whirliwig mimicking the driftlessness of her own floating so contextless unanchored. There's an interest in the roving light. Without didactic we see Three Seascapes, possibly, but in another a didactic for painting we cannot see. Herbert saw it early: "If pre-existing, these photographs meant one thing in a catalogue, museum or wherever, and now they signify something else or, intrinsically, nothing at all: detached, rivulets in a larger directional flow. ‘Thanks, Internet,’ such work murmurs." because the work does feel like the internet, forced with lips glued to feed, like we all are. You can assemble the parts to de-crimescene what's on display here, or wait for the another writer to mutate to docent, to explain, but that'd be beside the point to be at a loss shuffling through image that Angeletti seems determined to maintain in limbo, contextless. The breadth of Angeletti's work looks like a google image search for a long string of arbitrary numbers, irrational, an array of the world's arranged by a search term we cannot see, which, in an era of almost total fuck-all of contextless images, our cognition is molested by daily could make an art practice mirroring such seem a brutal finger but at some point we have to be trained for this, we could attempt to make sense of, it all, if we wanted to start lifting.

“Tour of the Artist’s House” at Reserve Ames

(link)

The documentation becomes its own photographic art. On Reserve Ames own website the documentation is gray, but sent through other waters - CAD or Artforum say - they usually turn colors. A strategy preserving exclusivity. Now not even the pipes stain them. Ostensibly an exhibition as tour of the artists' home, the important part of the new documentation is that it is actually an announcement card.

Allison Katz at MIT List Visual Arts Center

(link)

the two subjects to painting, the thing represented in paint and the artist-as-subject rendering both. Painterly "style" is the sediment of an individual's subjectivity accumulating in the granules of their decisions eventually garnering a pile: identity. Look through the glass of another's eyes to see their world through them. We - despite all - trust art to tell us something about subject, and Katz's "self-portraits" make this mirror between painter and self-subject anxious by threatening this trust: painting that feel like fibs, competing styles that delay any coherence in its subject, the painter, our trust for the text to tell us something about the author. Others have called them palindromic or Janus-like, expressing this anxiety over the mirror. An irritant in our lenses, the paintings.


Leidy Churchman at Koelnischer Kunstverein,

Past: Lucie Stahl at Halle Für Kunst Lüneburg, Cabinet

"Which whose then, despite their slight derivatives, in the specificity of their slick digi-crust-materialism and resolution-as-sex, we loved, the scanner trash prints: what everyone else was at such pains to display with existential and overwrought, like, expression, Stahl had turned into cheap easy and fast slacker products that got closer to the existential dread of that material-reproduction by embodying all its cheap easy fast sexy disposability."




Lucie Stahl at Cabinet, Lucie Stahl at Halle Für Kunst Lüneburg

Past: Anne Neukamp at Greta Meert

"Our brains, wired for recognition, are berated with this: icons forcing recognition of themselves. Painters begin adopting this as their history, the magrittean version of objects as linguistic symbols. These paintings delay the force of recognition as a palliative, lessening the slap of apprehension.."


Anne Neukamp at Greta Meert

Elliott Jamal Robbins at Kai Matsumiya

(link)

discombobulating the characters, Snow White and the black protagonist cultural antipodes, forced atop each other, its Disney surely dissonant with black male experience: a snippet plays stating that a lot of women were roused to voting early which would have felt reassuring then had we not later learned white women voted Trump. Sadness feeling most intense when there is nothing to be done with it, can't be channeled, and the depression of your body on the mattress becomes sinister cave, stuck to National Public Radio's days before the US election, an anachronism replayed in your head, is made worse in actually having the recording. Enough emotional dissonance eventually causing psychologic desensitization, feeling a lot like living slumber.

Ei Arakawa at Kunstverein Dusseldorf

(link)

artwork's origin dates as astrologic charts, your level of trust in the celestially telling matters less than the overall strategy: turning an artwork to an interpretable state and blinking, tea leaf divination in sporty Vegas-odds inkblots. We're primed to see meaning in information, in art, particularly when so bright and shiny, and thus here's lots to be said about these works, interpretation to be done, they'll pour forth all you are willing to extract from them. Perfect analysands. Like the wacky inflatable arm man drawing eyes to dealerships, Arakawa understands the qualifiers for "art," performing them with wacky panache, theatricalizing the artwork as a caricature of attention, art played to show its now quite standardized set of rules.


See too: Ei Arakawa at Taka Ishii & Peter Halley at Modern Art, Ian Rosen at The Finley, And so Quarterly has finally come to pass.