Marie Angeletti at Édouard Montassut

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The Rorschach inkblot is the ultimate symbol of art. It is exactly what we now demand: an interpretable stain, an endlessly inscrutable fount for "meaning" generation. The point is to see something, anything. That is really just handing the viewer back to them, what they see is what they see, valid and inconsequent. They are but shaped mirrors. 

see too: Marie Angeletti at Atlantis, Marie Angeletti at Beach Office

Marie Angeletti at Carlos/Ishikawa

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Seduction, eroticism, through glass. What a time for it. Pornography is sex through glass, like our isolation, like our galleries, please remain six feet away from the
Both pornography and art must find visual means to sensate through this barrier. So you adopt its methods. Live through the window of her, ordering distant contact online. This is our prophylactic erotics.

Marie Angeletti at Atlantis

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exacerbating all the annoyances of images today, Angeletti's are always claustrophobically opaque, too close, dim. Not quite sure Angeletti has ever shown in a completely lit space, and the once maybe had had lots of photos of rotational laser lighting, the sort of whirliwig mimicking the driftlessness of her own floating so contextless unanchored. There's an interest in the roving light. Without didactic we see Three Seascapes, possibly, but in another a didactic for painting we cannot see. Herbert saw it early: "If pre-existing, these photographs meant one thing in a catalogue, museum or wherever, and now they signify something else or, intrinsically, nothing at all: detached, rivulets in a larger directional flow. ‘Thanks, Internet,’ such work murmurs." because the work does feel like the internet, forced with lips glued to feed, like we all are. You can assemble the parts to de-crimescene what's on display here, or wait for the another writer to mutate to docent, to explain, but that'd be beside the point to be at a loss shuffling through image that Angeletti seems determined to maintain in limbo, contextless. The breadth of Angeletti's work looks like a google image search for a long string of arbitrary numbers, irrational, an array of the world's arranged by a search term we cannot see, which, in an era of almost total fuck-all of contextless images, our cognition is molested by daily could make an art practice mirroring such seem a brutal finger but at some point we have to be trained for this, we could attempt to make sense of, it all, if we wanted to start lifting.

Marie Angeletti at Beach Office

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You can assemble the parts of the PR to de-crimescene what's on display here, or wait for the writer mutated to docent, to explain, but that'd be beside the point to be at a loss shuffling through image and text that Angeletti seems determined to maintain in the limbo of contextlessness. The breadth of Angeletti's work looks like a google image search for a long string of arbitrary numbers, an array of the world's images arranged by a search term we cannot see, which in an era of almost total fuck-all of contextless images our cognition is molested by daily could make an art practice mirroring such seem a brutal finger but at some point we have to be trained for this, we could attempt to make sense of, it all, if we wanted to start lifting.