Cerith Wyn Evans at Museo Tamayo

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We've been staring at lights for a hundred thousand years, fire to hearth to television to phones, the light we arrange our living rooms around, surely finding comfort in our control, ability to channel and manipulate forces. We can now flaunt it, bend the tubes of capital to allow its flows to move through our neon, make it baroque to brandish it - its light as proof of our life, the lights are on, we are vital. Where once the fire was symbol of home, lights are now proof of capitalistic viability: an artist keeping the lights on.


See too: Cerith Wyn Evans at Galerie Neu, Sam Lewitt at Kunsthalle Basel

Nairy Baghramian at Museo Tamayo

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Double entendre of objects looking like innuendo, like bodily stones complicating the minimalist mantra that what you see is what you see, because what you see is sometimes sexually confusing, leather seats in car beginning to look like the lap of a heavily tanned, taught, and naked man. The cigar that just not might be, or rocks that just might, a “bodily” different from its post-minimalist reassertion; entendre produces a psychoactive uncertainty in polite company, and Baghramian has spoken at length of the object-turned-subject monster for which the art-world prescribes all talking cures those object orientated fetishists, like yellow socks with sandals, perverse.

See too: "Being Thing” at Centre International d’Arte et du Paysage & Treignac Projet, Katja Novitskova at Kunsthalle Lissabon, Nancy Lupo at 1857,  Torbjørn Rødland at Kunsthall Stavanger, Martín Soto Climent at Proyectos Monclova

Francis Alÿs at Museo Tamayo

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Alÿs's politics begin to look more and more like children's book fantasy; images as dreams as solutions, poetics attached ever so lightly to horrible quagmires.