Aesthetic cognition or crossword puzzles only rarely bring such perverse pleasure.
These works could bear witness to the birth of a star or the heat death of the universe. The curators don’t know which.
This project lands in the joke section of Animal Farm and not as a prophecy of the Jan 6th insurrection.
In DiMattio’s giant ceramics kiln, everyday motifs like sneakers and knickers clash into the ornate Rococo stove and the Victorian China snuff box.
This show would be better without the baggage of the artist’s personal story and even better without the Twin Towers altogether.
The whole thing feels like a remake of Wind in the Willows directed by a garden gnome.
There’s an unfortunate ‘emerging artist’ vibe to this handful of readymade sculptures.
Having forgotten what the ‘dramatic’ in art stands for, visual artists today too often mistake hacked theory for stage directions.
Meaning parts with the image in this exhibition, never to return. Post-structuralism triumphs.
Too many deadpan landscape photographs turn intrigue into fatigue and into paralysis.
There’s joy in repetition. There’s joy in repetition. There’s joy in repetition. There’s joy in repetition. There’s joy in repetition. There’s joy in repetition.
These gestures remind the gallery that it is a social space. Unfortunately, they also inadvertently point to its sorry end.
I knew that it was possible to understand art and life less after seeing an exhibition. I didn’t, however, imagine that experiencing Wielebinski’s work twice would only compound such damage.
The failed magic tricks in Lyndon Barrois Jr.’s canvases would hang in the final scene of Chinese Roulette in which everyone turns against everyone.
It’s stressful enough to fuck in the forest for fear of passers-by or the police; imagine having to also look out for curators.
Even though the show brings together a few unusual tricks, they are disjointed and leave little for the eye to linger on.
The party slumps into a half-voiced political complaint and never recovers. This is what happens when instead of living culture, we ‘celebrate’ it.
In Fleury’s car workshop cum womenswear boutique, everything is ready-made and ready-to-wear. But you can’t touch any of it and you certainly can’t afford it.
For the abundance of material, there simply aren’t enough ideas in the exhibition to go around these Mayfair interiors.