Piero Gilardi at Frankfurt Am Main

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Another artist who fled after disgust at his own commercial success, his astro-turf so in demand they were "at times delivered to the galleries in huge rolls and sold to collectors by the yard."  What was it making an industrial mockery of the land so desirous to the rich. Was it death-drive chic, or did we think then it so fantastical the notion of artificial earth, or were we starry eyed over the possibility: the earth produced on rolls by the yard, or at least something imitating it. The artist came back, to produce it in hermetically sealed rarified versions, probably much closer to our reality, "Our world's end, celebrate it with a commemorative lamp" still in vogue:


Cooper Jacoby at Freedman Fitzpatrick, “May the Bridges I Burn Light the Way” at STANDARD , Max Hooper Schneider at High Art, Amy Yao at Various Small Fires(OSLO), Nancy Lupo at Antenna Space

Grayson Revoir at Frankfurt am Main

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Artists digging holes, Urs Fischer and You, Chris Burden unearthing foundations, Zobernig out in a field a hole as deep as could go, Hans Schabus pulling up his floor to expand the studio into sewers, into the untapped expanse beneath our feet that is the province of the undead, dying, necrophiliacs and mole-people; the living have no business under the earth, making for a projectable and mysterious alter-space conjuring as much speculative-fiction as any, and in art this fantasy projective meeting its pipe dream dead-end is its pathos, of dreams meeting material ends that Revoir attempts avoiding by not digging the hole at all, leaving it to a text to conjure and imbue its potential baroque glory. Yet Revoir's interest in the gratuitously pedantic of say Gass's text entombed here is still the projectable fantasy meeting its end in the material conditions of words, destroying the text hole that eventually ends, exhausted.