Yong Xiang Li at Emanuel Layr

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The returns of overt sentimentality chimes with our nostalgic times, its longing, wistfulness, or its hate filled "again." Building apparatus to suspend this ephemeral world: a wallpaper's pleasance like a tissue against fire. 

Birgit Megerle at Emanuel Layr

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Banality in the soft technicolor of handtowels. Or looking more like the hand-coloring of black and white photographs. Adding rose to the cheeks of children, ceruleans to the skies. The PR would chide you for not liking dogs, that populist obedient critter which, like sunsets, seem to be beyond reproach in culture. "like sunsets, both the near endless regurgitations of saccharine accident, cliche." But above take these forms and squeeze cotton candy out from it, spank the sunset for its bruise.


See too: Wolfgang Tillmans at Maureen Paley, Amelie von Wulffen at Reena Spaulings, Amelie von Wulffen at Barbara Weiss, “J A N U A R Y” at dépendance

Nick Oberthaler at Emanuel Layr

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The cartoon infects everything, including our signscapes, their assertion, commands that knead the world with stern minimalism. "a general tool for rudimentary signalling and identification" and turning us all into vexillologists at their askew version.

Gaylen Gerber at Emanuel Layr

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The Gerberian support's proposal of a third party in the usual object/viewer duo, a middleman standing watch to serve you the art, introduces the many others standing watch to bring this to you. The general supports of art - walls, lights, pedestals - are cold inanimate and, generally, ignored, and Gerber's proposition, their filling with blood, sedimented subjectivity, makes the walls seem alive and watching, that though they are painted white they contain just a different behind in them.


See too: Brian Calvin at Le Consortium, Sophie Nys at Crac Alsace

Group Show at Emanuel Layr

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Another group exhibition's anthropomorphic objects, the animism arranged to slough meaning off the waxy image surface. Objects Curated to displace their center, their aboutness, diverting it to dissolve and we looking around, feel a presence, the object juiced to mean. The dumb object speaks in the noise of the viewer reflected.
"Hearing the echo / Of your own blood in the shell but picturing / The ocean is what I meant by"*

*Ben Lerner

see too: Ian Kiaer at Lulu , “Seven Reeds” at Overduin & Co.

Lisa Holzer at Emanuel Layr



These things make a lot of sense, or they make a lot of sense in their disused sense, or the contemporary constant of so much fractured meaning and importance, redundantly prescient - like emijos, unbelievably cute, still doesn’t mean we’re going to take the time learning anything about them, the world a vast place comprised mostly of nonmeaning and unbearable, and here instead placed into the vacuous fracture of the non-sense of so much visual culture, we simply can’t be made to care, the distraught pathos (these things definitely have a pathos) of realizing that it might all be beyond our ability to consume in total, and so give up a little bit and bathe in the emptiness, a more sympathetic Jordan Wolfson.