Ned Vena (further emptied)
Darren Bader
Nicholas Buffon
Monday, December 8, 2014
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Trevor Paglen at Metro Pictures
(link)
The art trope of highlighting the discrepancy between surface depiction and the latent content; Paglen’s I-spy photographics, making spectacular-banal photographs that await the moment of their reveal: finding the tiny dot denoting drones that mar the expensive print of skies, or the anonymous building turning out to be a possible “black site” discovered by the artist, or this exhibition's nonsensical phrases revealed as government code names. Unlike Christopher Williams, for whom the endless textual production surrounding the photographs acts like a spigot draining the privilege of the visible, Paglen’s photographs make visible something meaningful that is ultimately meaningless, there’s nothing to be done with this information, these absurd names, but watch them pass like a poisoned and interminable river, a discrepancy affective but belittling. Having more to do with art than politics. You’ve found Waldo, but you’ll never get to shake his hand.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Kaspar Müller at Federico Vavassori
It’s Zobernig tar+feathering, Julian Opie’s picto-programmatic brand, and other iconographies existing in unplaceable cultural memory. But whereas Zobernig’s genericism was a deflecting form of critique, maquettes for his fictionalized art theater, Kaspar’s direct thefts of institutionalized styles is a reflexive and perforated form of identity, accumulating a piecemeal version, forming a pile of identity rather than a package, to be sifted through rather than consumed, objects which will never become whole. The new puzzle form of art’s conceptuality.
See too: Jana Euler at Kunsthalle Zürich , Annette Kelm at Gio Marconi , Heimo Zobernig at Petzel, Krupp, Mudam , Matthew Cerletty at Office Baroque
It’s Zobernig tar+feathering, Julian Opie’s picto-programmatic brand, and other iconographies existing in unplaceable cultural memory. But whereas Zobernig’s genericism was a deflecting form of critique, maquettes for his fictionalized art theater, Kaspar’s direct thefts of institutionalized styles is a reflexive and perforated form of identity, accumulating a piecemeal version, forming a pile of identity rather than a package, to be sifted through rather than consumed, objects which will never become whole. The new puzzle form of art’s conceptuality.
See too: Jana Euler at Kunsthalle Zürich , Annette Kelm at Gio Marconi , Heimo Zobernig at Petzel, Krupp, Mudam , Matthew Cerletty at Office Baroque
Thursday, December 4, 2014
“National Gallery” at Grand Century
The exhibition was a month ago but its good timing this late-entry-prior Miami arrivals to get the free advertising, labelled on the map of relevancy, legitimation and visibility. Before there be just serpents in the uncharted. But a few famed friends shed light as german markers of this new territory, addendum to Empire’s realm.
The show hung on the ceiling.
Looks fun - Genzken at 66 still has it, and Kennedy’s work was always made to do this - but in it’s desire for “a heightened physical awareness that serves to explore the idea of vision as corporeal” and “a temporary resistance to mass circulation” the irony of its installation upset lies in the fact that it was always going to end up in the trading routes of it not Empire, then any of the other outsider networks, pretty much made for it by the gallery National’s standard two day party affair, documentation for the hungover circulation, and that that is all that is left, temporary resistance as a good foreplay, because every good sea man does eventually want to get swallowed.
The exhibition was a month ago but its good timing this late-entry-prior Miami arrivals to get the free advertising, labelled on the map of relevancy, legitimation and visibility. Before there be just serpents in the uncharted. But a few famed friends shed light as german markers of this new territory, addendum to Empire’s realm.
The show hung on the ceiling.
Looks fun - Genzken at 66 still has it, and Kennedy’s work was always made to do this - but in it’s desire for “a heightened physical awareness that serves to explore the idea of vision as corporeal” and “a temporary resistance to mass circulation” the irony of its installation upset lies in the fact that it was always going to end up in the trading routes of it not Empire, then any of the other outsider networks, pretty much made for it by the gallery National’s standard two day party affair, documentation for the hungover circulation, and that that is all that is left, temporary resistance as a good foreplay, because every good sea man does eventually want to get swallowed.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Thomas Eggerer at Richard Telles
The painting’s tension exists in whether or not Eggerer cares about his subject matter. Richter may have shown care for his but then masochistically bled it, and as this cold blood trickled down, through Tuymans and Sasnal, it finally reaches the ambivalence of Eggerer’s young men as vessels. Richter painted abstractions and people to prove his violence toward each; Eggerer paints people within architectures of highly stylized abstractions to prove the artificiality of his vision.
The painting’s tension exists in whether or not Eggerer cares about his subject matter. Richter may have shown care for his but then masochistically bled it, and as this cold blood trickled down, through Tuymans and Sasnal, it finally reaches the ambivalence of Eggerer’s young men as vessels. Richter painted abstractions and people to prove his violence toward each; Eggerer paints people within architectures of highly stylized abstractions to prove the artificiality of his vision.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Christian Herman Cummings, Miriam Hanks-Todd at Michael Benevento
The smell of latex permeates the show, setting the scene in nausea unalleviated by the pepto bismal spread over pinkly over the desk, all adding up to a scrappy and roughshod abjection of framing, of frames' weakly pink made bodily in the dead flesh molding campy ventian blinds open to reveal doodled notations of a crude sexology, schematics, kid stuff in a Cronenberg version, a good show of gross stuff. Wounds as sex objects in the other room.
The smell of latex permeates the show, setting the scene in nausea unalleviated by the pepto bismal spread over pinkly over the desk, all adding up to a scrappy and roughshod abjection of framing, of frames' weakly pink made bodily in the dead flesh molding campy ventian blinds open to reveal doodled notations of a crude sexology, schematics, kid stuff in a Cronenberg version, a good show of gross stuff. Wounds as sex objects in the other room.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Flame at 576 Morgan Ave Apt 3L Gallery
Reinhardt’s dictum of his as the last paintings taken as a challenge rather than rhetoric, certain artists since race to end painting in an escalating torture-porn of it, sending their innocent child paintings to be forcibly taken in all the imaginative ways of the market, ready to prove - by forcible insertion - its shiny new neo-liberal critique to teach it know better, horror as ethics. Thing was Krebber had already proved you could have your burrito and eat it too, even if the press release doesn’t believe it, and that mocking Murillos “burrito” painting’s market ascension after the same artist later went on to stand up and lecture the bourgeois paying his way, however meaningless itself, seems a petty game more concerned with demonstrations of the cold depths of out-nihilising the other, a Baudrillard-like shift moving from productive critique of Marxism to a hyperbolic rhetoric of endgame, immanetizing the eschaton, hell on earth.
Reinhardt’s dictum of his as the last paintings taken as a challenge rather than rhetoric, certain artists since race to end painting in an escalating torture-porn of it, sending their innocent child paintings to be forcibly taken in all the imaginative ways of the market, ready to prove - by forcible insertion - its shiny new neo-liberal critique to teach it know better, horror as ethics. Thing was Krebber had already proved you could have your burrito and eat it too, even if the press release doesn’t believe it, and that mocking Murillos “burrito” painting’s market ascension after the same artist later went on to stand up and lecture the bourgeois paying his way, however meaningless itself, seems a petty game more concerned with demonstrations of the cold depths of out-nihilising the other, a Baudrillard-like shift moving from productive critique of Marxism to a hyperbolic rhetoric of endgame, immanetizing the eschaton, hell on earth.
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