Dominik Sittig at Nagel Draxler Kabinett

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Perhaps both Miller and Sittig were about some radish cures, forcing the child to smoke the whole carton. A "too much" to taste. Sittig's had been so entrenched in their miasma (paintings that approached, but never quite landed on, hyperbolized mud) that no love for paint would save it, they were paintings dying in their own tar pits, unrescuable. But now we get gently rosed children, photographs yellowing. The turn came at least 2 years ago with a press release about Barthes own switch from semiotician to subjectives, his writing to reclaim his passed mother in the photographs of her, Camera Lucida. Which would seem to express a similar sentiment switch here. An attempt to pull and save something from, or in, mud. 

see too: John Miller, Dominik Sittig at Nagel Draxler

Renée Green at Nagel Draxler Kabinett

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This - the only photo of this vitrine - is peak exhibition documentation. As if to say, you won't know what's in the vitrine, but you will know there was one. Less important to know what was than to know that there was a was. That there had been. "Having been" is the coronation anyway, surrounded by its "else," the halo around, glow. Which we see here.

Christine Wang at Nagel Draxler Kabinett

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Stated aggressively but not necessarily pointedly at clear meaning, an irony that confuses instead of reneges. Their dripping disgust with an almost self-harm cruelty is also an earnestness in moral dubiety. What do these things mean, is of course the question every painting asks, these just do a lot more explicitly, ambiguously. Do I want a threesome with the Winklvii? Wouldn't it be nice to be rich, to have made it to the moon on Bitcoin? Is my now desire for threesome with the Winklvii merely a symptom, hoping for some relief from anxiety of capitalist precarity, their big arms? The questions come embedded in the image. The world, surely, is fucked. The newspaper is a surrealist device, atrocity competing with diamond ads. Against the majority of juxtapositional surrealists operating today who find themselves content in jumbling signs for subconscious irruption, these hand you the pile of garbage and ask you to find help in untangling it.