Friday, December 07, 2012

Art Basel Miami Beach 2012

Art Positions 2012

written by Peter Duhon and Nathalie Zwimpfer in Miami Beach

Categorized by Art Basel as a platform for discovering new talent from across the globe, Art Positions delivers on that promise by presenting 16 artists spanning 10 countries. While in South Beach, Art Comments surveyed the works on display and we've short listed 5 of the artists for our readers to bookmark.

Latoya Ruby Frazier

Recently participated in the Whitney Biennial 2012 with much acclaim. Represented here at Art Basel by the Parisian space, Galerie Michel Rein. Her work is at once personal and political, she doesn't hesitate to critique the ill effects of industrialism and its proponents, for example, Andrew Carnegie and his legacy. 

Of the photographs on display, one series charts and documents the destructive course of a non-profit organization that is currently leading the charge in destroying community centers and hospitals in Pittsburgh, PA.

The documentation of erasure and displacement by Latoya Ruby Frazier continues her ongoing investigations and critique of capitalism that initially began with intimate, familial photographs.



Latoya Ruby Frazier


Aslı Çavuşoğlu

Turkish artist Aslı Çavuşoğlu, represented by NON, a gallery based in Istanbul, is well known for her recent project Murder in Three Acts presented at Frieze London 2012. At Art Positions there are two separate work series exhibited in the booth. One of which that stood out is the Pawnbroker series that consists of 9 photograms that mostly show sets of jewelry.

Aslı Çavuşoğlu’s work is important because it deals with Turkey’s rather turbulent history and especially the Ottoman nostalgia that has been spread over the country in the last few years. However, Aslı Çavuşoğlu’s work does not only focus on the country’s history but also deals with research and it’s difficulties that evolve due to historical events.

Aslı Çavuşoğlu


Irene Kopelman

Amsterdam based artist Irene Kopelman explores the relationship between art and research. In a previous project Kopelman has focused on sameness and difference in the context of zoology, more precisely in entomology. Her work deals with the difficulties of taxonomy and how complex phenomena are put in a tight system by simplification.

At Art Positions Irene Kopelman is represented by the LABOR gallery. The exhibition consists of several watercolor paintings and one work made of numerous pieces of fired clay presented on the booth’s floor. The work shows the practice of the notion of scientific models through visual means.

Kopelman’s work has a big importance for the current, ongoing discourse of the relationship between art and science and how the methods of research in each field can be applied on one another.


Irene Kopelman



Leyla Cardenas

Based in Bogotá and represented there by Casas Riegner, Leyla Cardenas engages with the remnants and artifacts of destruction, the seen and unseen, the visible and invisible. Her found object and sculpture on display, Excision, are an example of a process that mirrors that of an archeologist since she procures fragments such as walls, ceilings and floors to produce her work.

Her work embodies the failures of modernization, a reminder of the harsh realities produced by urban renewal and redevelopment in Bogotá but also globally.


Leyla Cardenas


Atsushi Kaga

Japanese artist Atsushi Kaga is presented by Irish gallery Mother’s Tankstation at Art Positions. His paintings and drawings show different scenes involving cartoon-like characters he created. On all his work, cute-looking fluffy bunnies, bears and other amusing creatures discuss the frailties of human existence charged with cynicism and humor.

Kaga activates the booth by co-opting it as a production studio where visitors can see him and his mother working to create art, custom handbags branded with his fictional characters.

Visit Atsushi’s visually highly appealing website where each character receives it’s own space: http://www.atsushikaga.com/


Atsushi Kaga



Art Basel Miami
December 5 - 9, 2012



Monday, December 03, 2012

Turner Prize 2012


Paul Noble: Turner Prize nominee and his drawings

written by Nathalie Zwimpfer in Basel, Switzerland

The Turner Prize has often been criticized and various people and groups such as the Stuckists protest against Great Britain’s most famous art award every year. They are opposed to the Turner Prize’s focus on conceptual art since they would like it to concentrate on figurative painting. Turner Prize winning artists of the previous 10 years whose work are considered conceptual are Mark Leckey (2008), Mark Wallinger (2007), Tomma Abts (2006), Simon Starling (2005) and Jeremy Deller (2004). 

Indeed calling the award after one of Great Britain’s most famous painters might not be a very suitable and fortunate choice of name, however, nominating artists that work with all different kinds of media and methods only references today’s diverse artist’s practice. 

Penelope Curtis, director of Tate Britain and chair of the jury doesn’t even want to the award to be representative. She states: “The Turner Prize is neither a survey nor a barometer of what is happening in contemporary British art.” In contrast, the Stuckist’s approach is rather dogmatic. They claim: “Artists who don’t paint aren’t artist.”


Paul Noble


This year’s nominees are Spartacus Chetwynd, Luke Fowler, Elisabeth Price and Paul Noble. None of the four nominees is a painter, however, one of them, British artist Paul Noble, employs a rather traditional technique for his art production. His work consists of large-scaled drawings and numerous small-sized marble sculptures which are now exhibited at the Tate Britain in London. Paul Noble has been nominated for his solo-exhibition Welcome to Nobson at Gagosian Gallery in London in 2011.

Drawing remains the fastest way of accomplishing a visual expression and has always been an important part of visual arts. During the Renaissance drawing gained a special significance in the act of visual creation. Famous art historian Giorgio Vasari defined the term "disegno" - which is translated best by “drawing” - in his publication Lives of the Most Excellent Italian Painters, Sculptors, and Architects, from Cimabue to Our Times in 1550. However, “disegno” in Vasari’s sense is not only a "drawing“, but becomes an artistic inspiration and an intellectual concept, too. A divine means of creation and knowledge.


Paul Noble




Although Vasari emphasizes the importance of drawing and sketching not only as an artistic method, but also as the essence of all artistic production, he doesn’t see them as autonomous pieces of art. In the course of art history drawings have hardly been valued as artworks themselves. They rather served as means to sketch a painting or sculpture. Only much later, in the 20th century, drawings became more appreciated and gained their autonomy as artworks.

It’s indisputable that Noble’s drawings are autonomous, self-consistent pieces of art. Not only their large-scaled size is impressive but also their density. Noble draws his fictional metropolis Nobson Newtown very precisely and the urban area is built up by hundreds of details. Even though Noble’s drawings follow rigorous constructional rules there’s this exceptional virtuosity in his use of ordinary, predominantly hard-mined pencils and all different shades. They especially reference Hieronymus Bosch’s perspective that makes space suddenly vanish. The drawing’s density reminds one of Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s paintings.

Vasari describes the “disegno” as the foundation of all paintings, sculptures and architecture. Noble eludes from this function of drawings. He states: “There is no story or time in Nobson Newtown. I consider it to be a play without acts or actors.”


Paul Noble




Therefore one can argue that Noble’s drawings are rather conceptual than narrative or aesthetic. This is where things become interesting. Artworks cannot be categorized so easily. There’s a lot of potential in showing artworks of different media next to each other. That allows the development of the interplay between artworks on a meta-level. Seeing Paul Noble’s work at Tate Britain helps evoking questions about how different material, techniques and methods serve different concepts, ideas and creativity in general.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

British Artist at Kunsthalle Basel


Craigie Horsfield – Slow Time and the Present at Kunsthalle Basel

written by Nathalie Zwimpfer in Basel, Switzerland
Walking into the rooms of British artist Craigie Horsfield’s latest exhibition at Kunsthalle Basel is compelling. Surrounded by three monumental, large-scaled and dramatic pieces of tapestry and two frescoes, one could feel overwhelmed. The scale not only causes this feeling but also the historical connotations to these techniques, which are often associated with abundance and power. The exhibition is imposing and the rather magnificent halls of Kunsthalle reinforce this impression.
On first sight the pieces of art can’t be distinguished between photography, fabric and painting. Even though based on film-stills, they are rather pictorial. Single colored yarn threads become an image. The materiality and surfaces play an important role in Horsfield’s artwork and the handcraft of the tapestries is astonishing.

Craigie Horsfield, Slow Time and the Present

Horsfield found a small weaver’s workshop in Flanders that developed a new technique to produce tapestries of this quality. Tapestries as well as frescoes are often associated with the Italian Renaissance. A time when the manufacture of tapestries and frescoes were costly, therefore only the church or rich and powerful families could commission them. Horsfield’s frescoes might even have similarities with Masaccio’s.
Although at first sight the tapestries’ motives seem to be from past centuries, this is not the case. All of them are based on film-stills Horsfield took in the last few years. Therefore a traditional handcraft is applied on contemporary motives such as rock concerts but also rituals that have been held for centuries. Two tapestries The Arciconfraternity of Santa Monica, Chiesa SS. Annunziate, Sorrento, April 2010 (2012) and Above the bay of Naples from Via Partenope, Naples, September 2008 (2012) and the fresco Processione die Gigli, Via Cocozza, Nola, June 2008 (2012) show rituals that take place annually. However, the third tapestry Broadway, 14th day, 18 minutes after dusk, New York, September 2001 (2012) displays an event that is the opposite of a traditional, annual event. A film-still of Ground Zero acts as a remaining evidence of a moment that changed history.
The second fresco At 99 Posse concert, Via Gianturco, Naples. September 2008 (2012) is based on a film-still taken at a rock concert in Naples. Although a totally different context the fresco’s composition, perspective and motive is very similar to the one showing the procession in Nola. Many people are standing extremely close together, all looking at the same direction.



Craigie Horsfield, Slow Time and the Present



There is a very strong interplay between the five artworks in the first and largest room. All the procession’s penitents and concert visitors on the first tapestry and on the two frescoes are facing the Ground Zero scene as well as a tapestry that shows fireworks and explosions in the bay of Naples; an image that is similar to a historical painting of a naval battle scene. The people on the frescoes and the Fraternity tapestry seem to be looking at those drastic scenes. The two tapestries’ dark petrol, blue and grey colors reinforce the threatening feeling evoked. These two artworks have many similarities with a picturesque Turner painting.
The largest tapestry The Arciconfraternity of Santa Monica, Chiesa SS. Annunziate. Sorrento, April 2010 (2012) shows a very old, catholic ritual that takes place annually in Sorrento, a town near Naples. In this scenery a large number of penitents prepare for a procession. The tapestry covers almost the whole wall so the beholder nearly becomes a part of the artwork. Looking at the picture is discomforting, the viewers find themselves surrounded by numerous people covered in white cloaks. The clothing looks much like the Ku Klux Klan’s cloaks. This association is leading to an intimidation. Only a very few participants aren’t hooded and haven’t covered their faces yet, therefore it feels like an anonymous, ominous threat walking towards the beholder. By covering their faces and bodies with white clothes the penitents are losing their individuality and the Fraternity is acting like a common collective. Due to the tapestry’s size one feels like being among the penitents, however, the beholder doesn’t become a part of them. One acts more like an alien peeking into a hidden world to which one should not have access.



Craigie Horsfield, Slow Time and the Present


In the second and much smaller room of the exhibition there are two tapestries called Zoo, Oxford, January 1990 (2007) each showing a rhino. These two tapestries are very different in a way from the ones in the first room. With this diptych the story of two individuals is told. Both rhinos lie on straw with their legs bent under their bodies on the floor of their concrete boxes. They are lying there very quietly and seem rather exhausted, tired or sad. It’s an intimate atmosphere, however the scenery isn’t less dramatic than the ones in the first room of the exhibition.
The two tapestries are almost symmetrical to each other. The animals seem to be captured in the tapestries square. Questions about their relation are evoked. Are the rhinos lying in the same room and are they living with each other? Although they are facing each other it seems like there’s no dialogue developing between them. They are rather living next to each other instead of living with each other. There are two parallel stories happening at the same time and place, still they don’t cross. Rituals and traditions can’t be found on this diptych, however, there are strong historical connotations. These photographs are similar to first zoological photographs of the late 19th century or even to Muybridge’s animal photographs. Additionally, images of rhinos always reference to Albrecht Dürer’s famous illustration. In this context Walton Ford’s triptych painting Loss of the Lisbon Rhinoceros (2008) should be mentioned as well. Like Horsfield, Ford deals with the notion of time and history’s perception.
Cragie Horsfield’s exhibition Slow Time and the Present is posited on the idea of the past being a part of the present. The linearity of history and its perception is questioned. The motives show traditions and rituals that have been practiced and developed over a long time as well as historical moments and individual stories. The exhibition mixed different perceptions of time and the relation of the past and the present.
Although some of the art pieces have been shown in previous exhibitions one could almost believe that this exhibition was site-specific. There are not only strong connections between each piece of art but also connections to the building and its surrounding.



Craigie Horsfield, Slow Time and the Present


Before even entering the exhibition there is a newly renovated fresco Das Erwachen der Kunst in der Renaissance by Ernst Stückelberg from 1877 in the stairway of Kunsthalle. According to the assistant curator of the Craigie Horsfield show, the fresco’s recent renovation was one reason why Horsfield was chosen for the current exhibition.
Furthermore, Kunsthalle’s floor structure is similar to the church’s floor in The Arciconfraternity of Santa Monica, Chiesa SS. Annunziate. Sorrento, April 2010 (2012). Therefore, the large-scaled tapestry that almost touches the floor seems to fade to the actual floor of the exhibition. Additionally the size of the artworks matches the size of the exhibition halls. The connotation and significance of tapestries are related to the historical site of Kunsthalle. However, there is not only a site-specificity to the building but also to its surrounding. Looking out of the only window in the exhibition one can see Elisabethenkirche, one of Basel’s most important, historical churches. 
This show is recommended to everyone because it deals with the perception of time, which affects or even dictates all of our lives. Craigie Horsfield states about the exhibition: “The title Slow Time and the Present concerns a sense of the duration of our attention and of life as something other than the busy and often frenetic onrush of everyday experience and our consequent separations from a consciously lived present. It concerns the notion of a present we may inhabit, a dilated or deep present.”

Monday, August 20, 2012



Rey Akdogan, Light Wielder, MoMA PS1

written by Lindsay Zackeroff in New York

“9. To recognize light as well as colour of metallic origin, and the discovery of beams as an equivalent of the economic development of the town.
“10. To relate the sun as a bonfire of illumination to the system of our flesh and bone.”
--Kazimir Malevich, “Resolution >>A<< in Art”

Rey Akdogan currently has her works on view at MoMA PS1 in one of their second floor project spaces entitled “off set”; she was also featured in Miguel Abreu Gallery’s “Surface Affect” show.  Both shows use lighting gels, light sources, metals and plastics as media; and she uses all of her media in their entirety—each is displayed as a whole—thus situating her work somewhere between ready-made/found object and sculpture. Using light as a solid medium, her show meticulously highlights the nebulae of the spaces, whether it is her solo show or a few works in a larger show.

As a staff member at MoMA PS1, I have spent over 20 hours in Rey Akdogan’s solo show.  Visitors, frequently rush through “off set” unprepared to face the barriers to her space.  At the entrance is a screen frame, folded to extend its triangularity and hinged into some sort of dwelling for the silver streamer looped to one of its poles.  She rarely uses adhesive, allowing her media to conjoin and intertwine through its natural properties.  Yet the piece has the corpses of unused electrical tape still tacked on.  The windows are blinded to eclipse the red filters, the most striking piece in the show.  Over the course of the sun’s movement, the red and white glow crystallizes into defined lines dawning in the corner of the room and moving down a roll of glittery Mylar like a timekeeper or the hands of a clock, metastable depending on the weather that day. Behind an electric blanket is Carousel #5, a slide projection that exhausts all of material such as a plastic bag or packing supplies into the light.

Similarly, at Miguel Abreu gallery, her piece with the carpet and lighting gel, strategically hung near the floor crunches the room into a pink line of light.  All of her works, though relatively small compared to the other pieces in the show by varying artists, have a massive effect on the space and the viewer’s access to it.

Her work addresses what is installation and modalities of minimalism.  It seems that Rey Akdogan’s installations are minimalistic, in that the media appear relatively un-tampered and un-tinkered.  This minimalism in geometry and reduction of form paradoxically maximizes the material, introducing a chaotic tension—which I would like to relate to Russian avant-garde and installation.  Ilya Kabakov, a prominent Russian installation artist, refers to minimalism as an “inner equilibrium and focused attention”, coercing the viewer to go “inside himself”[1].  In the maximization of her material, she invites the viewer to contemplate the material itself, as a whole, reduced to its original and pure form a la Malevich’s “Black Square”.  Yet her core medium, light, is inexhaustible.  

Rey Akdogan, Carousel #5


As “Black Square” claims to be the reduction of all form, in Carousel #5, this pairing of reduction and all, she diffracts and gathers her media as a high-powered microscope and as a telescopic whole: an image + light.   This projection motif is also the nucleus of the red filter on the window, where the viewer gains access to the projection and the projector itself, in which the projector bulb has harnessed the sun (and the post office outside PS1).  The media is distilled from the film set or theatre.  The privacy screen recalls the fabric architecture of the movie screen, extracted from the peripherals of a movie theatre, and replaced with what Roland Barthes refers to as “dancing cones of light”, the projections.  She wields light as solid beams, using the movement of space and time to animate them, recalling how Giuliana Bruno describes solid light films:

“Thus draped in the luminous space of the gallery installation, we are folded back into the animated surface of the film screening, woven into the very architecture of the spectatorial experience ‘suited’ to the electric psychic fabric of cinema.”[2]

Like the public movie theater, or recalling a Heideggerian clearing[3] (Lichtung), that tear in the world that the art-work creates, she has called us to her space to gather.  Her installation is both aggressive and serene, perhaps a bit like a temple.  Installation art is analogous to temples.  We are all gathered in the museum supposed to be looking at something, finding, feeling something, but we do not know what it is we are looking at or feeling (if we did, we would not need what I call the little white curatorial Viagra-texts, or reviews).  The pleasure, which we pay admission for and give our time, is the community of human and objects as sacred, and the contemplation of this.  James Turrell in his work “Meeting”, a floor above in MoMA PS1, accomplishes an intravenous architectural feat, providing benches for an audience, a congregation, to be worshippers of light and sky. 

The frequent haste to dismiss Rey Akdogan’s work ignites the question of installation and interaction with installation art—how do we reach the unconscious of the installation work, which is relatively new, in the way we have been trained when we look at a painting? When entering Rey Akdogan’s space, some viewers refuse this focus of attention and reconciling with this minimalist and chaotic form.  They look to the wall text for permission to depart, with the supposed understanding of what it all “means”. 

What is this review other than more wall text?—my viewing and re-viewing over the time I have given to her work.  I cannot make the critique of whether it is “good art” or “bad art”.  I evaluate my opinion based on the success of the realization of intention.  The intent for this installation is not articulated, nor does it need to be, but without it I cannot further express my “critique” past my experience.  It is an experiential installation—a heightened, plateau of experience in no need of this review I am writing, which is only an articulation of my gelling inside the image. I recommend staying with Rey Akdogan’s work, re-viewing and re-viewing.

Rey Akdogan continues until September 17, http://momaps1.org/exhibitions/view/354




[1] Boris Groys, David A. Ross, and Iwona Blazwick, Ilya Kabakov, London: Phaidon, 1998.
[2] Giuliana Bruno, “On the Surface of Film and Architecture”, Urban Images: Unruly Desires in Film and Architecture, By Synne Bull and Marit Paasche, Berlin: Sternberg, 2011.
[3] Martin Heidegger, and David Farrell Krell, “On the Origin of the Work of Art”, Basic Writings: Martin Heindegger. London: Routledge, 2010. 

Tuesday, May 08, 2012

A Short Course on Resistance @MoMA PS1, May 13


PLEASE JOIN US FOR THE FIRST SESSION OF

Short Course on Resistance


This participatory series is free and open to the general public, and we invite you to join us on May 13 for the first group discussion of Simon Critchley's book Infinitely Demanding: Ethics of Commitment, Politics of Resistance. 

The book club segment of Short Course on Resistance meets on consecutive Sundays at MoMA PS1 from May until August to discuss several books, initiating with a discussion of Simon Critchley's book Infinitely Demanding: Ethics of Commitment, Politics of Resistance


Critchley, the Hans Jonas Professor of Philosophy at The New School, joins the book club on May 20 for a Q&A session.

Simon Critchley also serves as a member of the International Necronautical Society, as Chief Philosopher. 

Additional confirmed participating authors and books include Jorg Heiser, editor of Frieze magazine; curator and critic Nicolas Bourriaud; and philosopher Jacques Ranciere. The book club will read their books, All of a Sudden: Things that Matter in Contemporary Art, The Radicant, and The Ignorant Schoolmaster: Five Lessons in Intellectual Emancipationrespectively.
Please join us May 13 for our first session of Short Course on ResistanceSunday 3:00 – 4:00 PM.
To sign up and to receive more information, please fill out the form here: http://bit.ly/IIczss or email us at scr@artcomments.com.

Short Course on Resistance is free and open to the public @ MoMA PS1 facilitated by ArtBook.

Location:

MoMA PS1
22-25 Jackson Ave. at the intersection of 46th Ave.
Long Island City, NY 11101

Short Course on Resistance is a multidisciplinary exhibition comprised of a book club, forthcoming lectures, and video screenings to be held at various venues curated by Peter Duhon, writer, educator, and director of the contemporary art blog, Art Comments.

Monday, April 09, 2012

AC Exhibition Review

Spectacle and Subversion at Ludlow 38

written by Jeffrey Grunthaner in New York

Much is to be said for art that is outright political; but perhaps much higher praise is due to works that refuse to side with any single ideology. Assuming that we exist in what Guy Debord calls “the society of the spectacle,” the recent show at 38 Ludlow, one and the other are another, posed a concerted challenge to the spectacle absorbing us. Utilizing historic icons and imagery against themselves, one and the other are another was an instance of art preserving a social-critical function, while dodging the all-too-obvious politicking that comes from reducing history's dialectic to some brand of “ism.” In the intimacy of a small venue no larger than two rooms, the works exhibited were stratagems of concepts and ideas, questioning the art-making process, its productions, and the historical circumstances wherein art exists as an available genre.  

Comprising the work of five European artists, the exhibition demonstrated how conceptualism—an ever expanding artistic practice, rarely defined in clear and distinct terms—could go beyond the confines of doctrinal interpretations of existing social realities, and potentially give way to new avenues of experience, conceived as the correlate of a conceptualist aesthetic. Expressed in this way, it might seem as though the show concerned itself less with reality than with private interpretations of reality. The would be false, however; and much praise is due to the curation of Clara Meister for gathering artists whose work was distinguished by an utter transparency—not only in relation to the present world and its history, but in relation to the processes that conceived their work.   

A critique of the specious opacity created through commodity exchange, where labor is dissolved into an ossified product, one and the other are another did not register as a “critique” in any obvious way. Rather, the spectacular existence of bourgeois culture was spoken to in overtones, which made criticism all the more effective. Hank Schmidt, for example, in his “Collage” series (2011), appropriated the characters from Charles Schultz's Peanuts comic and re-contextualized them via pictorial situations which exposed both their laughable innocence and their irrelevance. One work in the series figured several Peanuts characters wearing baseball gloves and standing below a house where a man was about to jump to his death. They scream (in German): “I got him! I got him!” Such works toy with mass culture as much as they critique its populist bias; and their ambiguous results situate them wholly in the world, honestly and without pretense.    

A transcendental flare animated this exhibit, exceeding the confines of the known while yet remaining historically focused. Ignacio Uriarte's video work, “Infinity” (2010), was a horizontal 8, a mobius strip endlessly moving in topological space. The image served as a counterpoint to Antonio Hirche's seemingly minimalist paneling directly across from it: two door-sized panels, each a different shade of green. As one came to find out, however, the latter was not minimalist at all, but the studied abstraction of a German bridge unintentionally painted two different greens when Germany was split by the Berlin Wall. The proximity of the historic to the non-historical—one reduced to a bi-color essence, and the other fleshed out and given physical dimensionality—situated concretely as well as symbolically what conceptualism could accomplish both in art and life. One discovers a crepuscular zone between negation and the creative realization of a plan. The ethos of the concept can be abstraction from known percepts, and it can also be a vehicle toward new tangible realities.                         

The best works of the exhibit were those that utilized popular, even readily accessible media to expose systematic glitches in administration and privatization as we know them today. Jonathan Monk's great piece, “some words of wisdom from Wittgenstein translated by google around the world from A through Z (with two mistakes)” (2012) was pretty much exactly that: a conceptual recreation of truth becoming nonsense as it filtered through a labyrinth of administered space. The artist took Wittgenstein's famous quote: “What can be said at all, can be said clearly” (in its original German form) and ran it through Google translator, coming up with strangely illuminating mistranslations of the original statement (perhaps all the more illuminating to the extent that they indicate international communications on the political level). A single statement threading 68 printed pages of screen-shots, the meaning weirdly transmogrified as “pourquoi pas directement?” (Why not directly?) in French, and ended with the German (the same language as it began in) “Warum?” (Why?) Lastly, Pierre Bismuth's “The Jungle Book Project” (2002) was a densely brilliant piece of critical honesty poised against the society of the spectacle as we currently face it. Taking the well-known Walt Disney film for its vehicle, Bismuth's installation gave each character in the film a different language, insisting on the obvious: that the viewer would still be able to make sense of the movie, knowing the story so well. Whether this is true or not, “The Jungle Book Project” was a triumphal piece of conceptualism which made every stage of its finalized form visible, creating an intimate experience of openness, familiarity and comfort.

In such works, one wonders if we do not catch glimpse of what the world will be like when the mystification of our desire finally ends.