Modern Art churns out so many good painting shows that one suspects it of insider trading. Indeed, there is a trick to this programme: each line-up drags a historical anchor that quells any hesitation of the medium’s future value. In this portfolio, the late Clough’s abstractions – straight out of the fruit bowl and the back garden as John Berger had them – underwrite the risk. One canvas, barely obscured by its subject matter, bears a pair of comedy teeth marks that leave the forensic accountant puzzled.
It’s not like the rest of the deal is sub-prime, though. One may quibble with Aldrich’s emoji-like palette but even it drinks up this context. Winter’s cloud paintings are exuberance alone, and markets love that. Trần’s abstractions of fairytales and Tomita’s rich textures are the wildcards, their paint too fresh to make a claim on the matter’s past performance.
