Charlotte Posenenske at Konrad Fischer

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PR states "she erased all gestural traces avoiding and dimishing [sic] any kind of subjectivity." which while not entirely true the attempt does feel apropos to our current scratching at the glass, less to feel something than touch its borders as well as mark it. Scratched glass tends to reveal itself. This is the edge, the limit. Posenenske found it. And then Posenenske, tellingly, left the artworld. Yet we keep dragging her back, out. Why does art love and mythologize the people that leave it? As Herbert recounts one of her last acts was handing out broadsheets at Documenta stating "You culture vultures, so here you are all gathered together to chat and lie and talk crap so as to gain the upper hand." Us all loving our artists while not listening to them, an exhibition like a condescending smile.

Group Show at Meyer Riegger

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We'll just list some decent work in this exhib: Mauser's crushed can Kobros, Saâdane Afif's baroque citational posters, Salvo's pre-Nicolas Party awkward, Posenenske's tableaus, Armleder's power-farts, etc.
But can we talk about that Miriam Cahn painting. Jesus. Attaining that magic otherness of "outsider" artists without actually being so. Soft horror, childlike and maternal. A crepuscular thumb indeterminate. The marks seem to stand more for actions than depiction, as in a face constructed of movements against it, but way less theatrical than Bacon. of the horror of our features removed, of the loss of the container, flesh. Such gentle, tender, violence.

Nicolas Party at Gregor Staiger , Miriam Cahn at Jocelyn Wolff , Group Show at David Kordasky