Alison Yip at Noah Klink

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Art in becomes reading the tea leaves of abstraction. (Stated previously.) The viewer made seer. The point of art, seemingly, is to create stronger affect in said tea leaves. To make the more desirable lures. So Yip's reversal here, having her fortune read before making the painting here, is a literalization of art's more mythic, latent, process of viewer-seerization. Sort of like explaining the joke as the joke. 

Gerrit Frohne-Brinkmann at Noah Klink, Berlin

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Little hosts, infected with virus, because their users wanted love. We find such odd proxies for ourselves, we are able to anthropomorphize at distance. Find identification with Wall-E robots rather than corpulent humans. The stupid magic of little underdog computer as effigies, set to slow burn.

Gerrit Frohne-Brinkmann at Noah Klink

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interest in primitive subjects (cave walls and prehistoric flora) as well as Hollywood staging finds its waypoint in the cardboard mockup's DIY version, not tricking anyone. But the gesture towards mimesis is there. It's low grade magic, like cave paintings once were, premised on the same belief of movie suspension. These and their smells (there's smells) aren't suspending disbelief, their stupidness is there to provides that distance. (To say one of those annoying things art writers tend to say:) they're more to do with our desire to be tricked, playing our fascination with the machines of verisimilitude, creation. Perhaps easier to believe in magic when it's primitive: an iphone is not magic but a rock certainly is.

Manuel Gnam at Noah Klink

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or the couple of Gnam's press releases invoking generational clashing and the cultural culling of those without political use make one wonder if these aren't, comedically enough, Gnam's attempts at proving himself a viable artistic candidate for cultural preservation. Which would make them funny. To think of these as attempts at cultural relevance. At some point we did adopt demands for art to prove its usefulness, possibly through the seepage of cultural theory into it, art was suddenly to be extracted for some sort of insight we had, tautologically, proven was there. We believe in art's ability for insight into, well, something, that when the above is delivered to us, we choke on our inability to read it, we choke.

Josefine Reisch at Noah Klink

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Our objects are goo, waxen, like a sneeze frozen into architecture; our paintings are clean, delineated and, again, contain the depth of an iPad, the interface display, flat, there. The painting's display technology, the objects warm body. And the scarves before and the floating papers here held up like the skin between, and the tulips a flesh technology for beauty.