Monday, February 19, 2018

Corinne Wasmuht at KÖNIG GALERIE


Noise, digital haywiring, the gravel dissolve, as if digital technologies weren't abrasive enough now we are to find some aesthetic function in their rubbing us raw with overwhelming digital salt, painting that make you feel tender, delicate against their threat.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Sarah Morris at Berggruen


"Both Morris’s paintings and luxury merchandise operate like memory-obliterating machines. In order to arouse the consumer’s intense longing for a brand-name product - a creamy, lustrous lipstick by Clinique, for instance - memory must be successfully erased. Flagrantly confronted with the object of desire, we gladly relegate to oblivion all good intentions, as well as the knowledge of what we really need and what we have already accumulated. Sensible recollection gives way to an irresistible longing, whose presence is far more intense and acute. 
“Morris’s paintings must also reckon with two kinds of desire: either, we surrender to them, pleasurably allowing ourselves to be mirrored in their high gloss surfaces, or we simply take them to be a strategic attempt to launch a trademark and scrutinize them no further. One might then conclude that this seems to be no different from the various ways in which ordinary brand-name products are perceived. But there is a telling difference. Morris’s paintings offer not only the object of desire but its flip side as well: a desire that does not want to be ‘fulfilled’ and is defined by absence. They show us the dizzying voids and abysses that open up the moment we succumb to desire [...] the trance-like feeling that follows hard on shopping spree: for instance when you’ve finally given in to your passionate desire to buy that lipstick. But instead of ‘satisfaction,’ you find yourself facing an even greater void...”  - Isabell Graw "Reading the Capital"
That hammering emptiness that writers with less deft than Graw attempt backfilling with all they reference they can mine from titles and films to go interminable explications of the architecture they repute to reference, of displays of information signaling content, data, that they lack actually denoting, just the impact of information's look with hollow drums like conga lines.

Saturday, February 17, 2018

LaToya Ruby Frazier at Gavin Brown


Ruby Frazier's photos appear as from some distant past because surely we can't believe it's the present; photos from last year seem in some nebulous era that surely isn't this new millennium the complications of the black and white and registering of historic tumult. We have facial recognition tech in the palms of our hands and water we can't send through pipes. Perhaps this would seem a paradoxical if we didn't know the facial tech was manufactured in buildings surrounded by suicide nets and towns were destroyed when companies could find cheaper backs to stand on.

Friday, February 16, 2018

Birgit Megerle at Galerie Neu


"Claire Bretécher’s smokey eyes or a precisely applied black eyeliner are forms that have become a consolidated look that can be put on like a shield. Slider turtles, whose shells are designed according to their habitat, renew their carapaces regularly, though undoubtedly not at a particulary rapid pace. Presumably, painting the make-up shields also takes a long enough time to move slowly enough through the different forms of feminisms that have developed since the 1970s, and at the same time align one’s own image in and with the mirror of the other figures. Birgit Megerle’s portraits would thus confront the pressure imposed on us by some ideas and ideals of beauty with a form of artificiality and masquerade that serves both as strategy and information."

Comparing the mutating patterns of turtle's phantasmagoric plastron to the shifting tides of women's facial adornment is alluring, if wonderfully specific, aligning of cosmetics as carapace, the movement of hard form patterns with a liquid and glacial place, rocks behave like fluids over geologic time and all that. Which has something to do with Megerle's own puttying of her hard edge source material the PRs over several exhibitions having been mentioned as importantly missing, the brushing out the inflated curls and rounding of eyebrow's high angled peaks, replacing their ostentation with a hematoma of makeup. The exchange is unsettling, Megerle's despecifiying of images, removing from them their character, their selfhood, depersonalized, like the most unnerving villain you could face would be the shifting fluid of an inkblot, a blurry monster.

Past: Yui Yaegashi at Parrasch Heijnen

"...faceted like jewels, cut, edged, given intricacy and surface, with the strokes etching them. Their efficiency and craft promises, if not to organize your home, to organize your thoughts. Like Muji, or IKEA prior, objects which through their own clever construction promise their efficiency, its perfection, an aura like spell to cast it, to your home, something so cute you just want to grab it, own it, hold its adorability so tight you wring its carefully crafted lovely little neck."

Click here read full Yui Yaegashi at Parrasch Heijnen

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Ida Ekblad at Herald St


Paint coagulates, a crust like Ekblad's Mr. Kellog's Cornflake Scab stuck to fine surfaces. Scabs are excess of bodily presence, we want to pick them, peel them from our elbows, remove the corpsing exuberance. Crust is an overpresence of material. Like Lasker's stupid strokes, a clownishness, an exaggeration of the painterly, of material, of the person for the clown, for Ekblad forcing painting to speak with a mouthful of bright bubble gum.

See too: Ida Ekblad at Max HetzlerIda Ekblad at Herald St.

Past: Ida Ekblad

" the kids these days they spray kat litter, kick at walls, crust manga felines. The fun of negligence"

Click for full: Ida Ekblad at Max Hetzler, Ida Ekblad at Herald St.