Mary Reid Kelley at Museum Leuven

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You know how your body feels after working an eight hour day. Like this. The cartoonifaction, or puttying, of the body.


See too:  “Puddle, pothole, portal” at Sculpture Center

Sarah Morris at Museum Leuven

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Programmatic expansionism, in which paintings perform composition as design - design functioning here as fulfillment of painting's criteria - similar to a soundtrack's ability to cohere fragments of image/color - (both always producing viable result) through an endless series of iterations, that after the loss of words like masterpiece (in which individual works were judged rather than artist's programs) to postmodernity instead exchanged for artistic constructions of identity or sameness over time.

Guy de Cointet at Museum Leuven

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Never being quite sure what is going on is part of it, Disequilibrium, a state of being in which never quite sure of what the object is.  De Cointet's objects are coded, transmuted abstractions. Like all those interminable children's videos on Youtube, a woman holds up a ball and a voice narrates "Ball" and transforms to a triangle and someone states "triangle" the child delivered the information of the semantic system that makes communication, taught; prior to this the world is "meaningless" shapes, colors. Language acquisition accrues through inference through existing in the world where those objects exist, and this is like de Cointet's plays, where slowly we learn or infer the meaning of large dumb objects and some we just never know.

Markus Schinwald at Museum Leuven

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“What are the differences between looking at static objects and looking at moving bodies or fish in an aquarium?”
The invasive and impressive Lionfish placed not as ornament, a crime, instead its held at the staid reserve of object, a sober erection.

See too : Markus Schinwald at Wattis

Isabelle Cornaro at Museum Leuven



What a totally enjoyable video, a plethora of suspense laden vignettes the simplicity of which must leave Blockbuster directors gruff, all the slow anxiousness of classic horror films, in the psychotic tenor of claustrophobic 70’s psychadelia. The Blob all the more unbearable because of its inhuman candy color.
The rest of the work just can’t maintain the same tension in its formalness, all coming across as quite nice, fine actually, just pleasant objects to fill space, asking the banality of “what could they mean?”-style press release fodder, but maybe they're better in person, though Cornaro’s films always seem to do so much more than the objects, though what a tragedy of a place to install it.