Ann Veronica Janssens at Micheline Szwajcer

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Art may be stupid, but the universe might be worse: arbitrary. Occasionally things click and the world briefly goes dark. A universe at large enough scales like clockwork. That we view through lenses wet with glass. The phenomenological that seems an attempt to reason with meat watching these big careful clocks.


Ann Veronica Janssens at Bortolomi, Ann Veronica Janssens at Micheline Szwajcer

Ann Veronica Janssens at Bortolami

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Magenta doesn't exist in the natural spectrum. It is an extra-perceptual color, an artifact resulting from our eye's biological structure of rods and cones attempting to interpret a mixtures of reds and blues. Part of a subsection of non-spectral colors, along with imaginary, chimerical, and impossible colors all having no material basis. It isn't difficult to warp with human perception, our bodies create the world we perceive and many physiological rifts in its construction that create whole subgenres of "optical illusions" exploiting these glitches. But the simpler the construction of the exploit - the more minimal its resource to mine such faults - the more distrustful we become of our basic grip on reality, real trippy.

Ann Veronica Janssens at Micheline Szwajcer



Between Roni Horn and Donald Judd, slicing distinction thin, Janssens, somehow more primary than both, always with candy ready, the polish of beauty. In person this exhibition would be the breath of cool ocean breeze. Unlike both mentioned there is no cerebral conceptual coldness, only the jack hardwired direct to pleasure centers of so much seduction, containing within them all the sex of muscle cars, the indulgence of white sand beaches. Imagine making love in this room with the windows open and the world coming in to meet you.