art exhibitions

20181118: Altlerchenfeld | Stammersdorf

It was too cold to kill time outside before our breakfast with Russell and Diane so we rode the tram out to Stammersdorf. Signs of mid-century urban development projects: modernist complexes big enough to form and house a community. I saw an advertisement for a new Lakeside Smartcity development near Donaustadt.[1] How soon will these Smartcity projects look as dated as these modernist blobs?

Russell and Diana were on the way back to NYC after his show opening at Bäckerstraße. Seeing friends outside of your city creates the illusion of a time-driven deepening. Compounded with the extra 20 minutes of looking for a cafe that was open, we did indeed bond in the cold.

In Austria, everything is closed on Sunday. Legally, many stores are obligated to be closed on Sunday. Establishments for food, drinks, gifts, bookstores, and museums are the exception. However, even stores that sell items outside of these categories have to obstruct sale of certain items by pulling a curtain over those products on Sunday. The Counter-reformation.

If you work at a job you don't like, everything being closed on Sunday is a blessing. I recall two decades ago, loving the idea of less work hours, of free Sundays, of some non-consumerism, non-productivity ideal. But if you enjoy your occupation, i.e. if you are part of a class of people who are pursuing their passion, the limited hours are a hindrance to self-actualization. The theory of competency in something requiring a certain number of hours – 10,000 or more – requires these evening and weekend contributions. Does Sunday necessarily obstruct this? No. One may be able to adequately plan their Sunday in advance by buying materials on Saturday, but an unforeseen hindrance may arise; Saturday may be a day of travel; or you may be obligated to work on Saturday. The limit to business hours on Sunday is not just to prohibit buying, it may also be to prohibit one’s productivity or self-development.

Limits to Sunday aren't the only variable in this quest of self-development; limited weekly work hours also play a role. And whether it is legally mandated that work stop, or simply socially encouraged, the pursuit of extra hours is impeded. The reverse is also true: I’ve feel compelled to work even during vacations, at the beach, at the spa. I have a sense of enjoyment and pride from this incessant toil.

From the perspective of an aspiring artist, actor, writer or even start up company, the culture of aggrandized free-time should be seen with suspicion. In the context of a world in which one is, or aspiring to become, their own boss, pursue a passion, the 35-hour work week something to be avoided. The distinction is whether the limitation is on working hours, or hours of vocation. Are you a subordinate, escaping orders on Sunday, or are you an entrepreneur – or realistically have a potential of transitioning to be an entrepreneur – and Sundays are slowing your progress?

It's no coincidence that my perspective on this question has reversed in the last decade. At age 25, I relished in the idea of more free-time; the European approach to labor and quality of life seemed ideal. At 35, I'm trying to get the last hours of production, while a mid-life gate is closing and quality of life is not as important as lifestyle. That is, my perspective isn't useful for people at every stage in life. I’m talking about an hour of ambition, an hour before sunset, an hour after the zeal of relaxation has worn away, an hour when play has become tiresome. And yet I have to admit why, even at age 25, I left Spain to return to the U.S.: the pace. Barcelona is an amazing city, but I found that I simply could not work, produce, create and pursue my art in Barcelona at the pace that I could in Seattle. And now being accustomed to the pace of New York, Seattle nor Europe are simply not an options.

Another question is for whom are shuttered Sundays benefit? The most obvious is the institution that mandated the closure in the first place – the Catholic Church – but today it's divided on socioeconomic grounds as well. Even non-believers defend Sundays as a day-off. After institutions, one has to look at the classes that benefit from days off. The few things that stay open – entertainment, fitness, cafes, restaurants, museums – are places frequented by the class of people with disposable income. Parks are free, but what about in winter? By requiring that all social classes take a day of leisure, a leisure-class maintains a custom of leisure, while those outside the leisure-class have one day without work and maybe leisure. (It should be noted that countries with higher income inequality have been found to have lower intergenerational social mobility; I.e. the U.S. has less intergenerational social mobility that Denmark, although the U.S. is "open for business" more days that Denmark.)

Another group that is benefitting from shortened work hours are those whose productivity is connected to technology. As technological advances occur, white collar workers are becoming more productive in shorter amounts of time, garnering higher wages, while blue collar workers whose time away from the table equates to greater losses of productivity and stagnating wages.

The variable of competition between countries is also important. Rather than seeing this simply as “if your neighbor is working seven days a week, and therefore you must also, in order to keep up with the Jones,” we have to ask if your distant cousin, on another continent is working. And while many developing countries are shortening their work week, I wonder how much of the progress that was made in the late 20th century in China and India was due to overworking; i.e. is "catching up" possible, if work equates to productivity and productivity equates to wealth. In the four decades, China brought 500 million people out of poverty, which is the greatest wealth generation in human history. That wasn’t due to a 35 hour work week. And, when the standard of living and wealth of China surpasses that of Europeans, will people really believe that going to the park on Sunday was worth trading economic dominance?

Conversely, does leisure necessarily equate to non-productivity? If a developed country transitions from production, i.e. blue collar jobs, to white-collar society, does the productivity goes down or just move to the service sector? [2]

Thankfully I like museums and Vienna is abundant with great institutions and more importantly great collections.

The first show I saw was at a Kunsthalle, which by definition don’t have a collection, but I had thought "Antarktika Eine Austellung über Entfremdung" at Kunstahalle Wien was about climate change and the resulting alienation. I read the pamphlet for insight as to why the exhibition was about everything other than climate change:

"In the 1960s the director Michelangelo Antonioni described Antartica in a sketch for a potential film as a condensed image for ongoing social glaciation. It metaphorically refers to the paradoxical experience of inclusion and, at the same time, isolation: recalling theories of alienation. The exhibition "Antarctica" gathers art that probes the ramifications of this cold vision of society with particular emphasis on recent positions in contemporary art. The participating artists portray insightful relations between the subject and contemporary modes of being, bringing the eroded boundaries between labor and leisure into focus with photo and video works that oscillate between documentation and performance. Other works in the exhibition illustrate the hallmarks of contemporary consumer culture in perfectly composed imagery."

What could be a better example of the world as societé? Taking a quadragenerian metaphor, which today can't even be contemplated without the broad knowledge and acceptance of Antarctica as an indicator of our melting existence as a species and overriding the metaphor, that reduces the physical and natural world into a preoccupation of social interactions? I hated the show title, but there were works that I found interesting. Maybe the artworld has already grown tired of shows about our pending doom; maybe giving it a break will give space to reconceive of it, or reconcile our fate.

It was surprising to see a show that was touted for videos and photographs to still have a large number (~30%) of paintings. Jana Schulz’s documentary of the social interaction between of young boys was interesting. It was reminiscent of Fredrick Wiseman style: no narration, no narrative. Burak Delier's video, “The Bells,” with a theater group performing corporate trust building exercises was almost as interesting as his "Crisis & Control.” [3] Isabella Fürnkäs's video comparing machine fabrication to dance culture was visually interesting for exactly 120 seconds. I liked the hypothesis. Many of the other works in the show were sophomorish obsessions with the unimportant, which was refreshing for me to be reminded that there are European artists who make completely meaningless artworks that get exhibited in the same nepotistic style as that which occurs in New York. Maybe that is the “positions in contemporary art” that the curators were referencing.


[1] https://smartcity.wien.gv.at/site/en/aspern-viennas-urban-lakeside
[2] "White Collar Productivity: Not Necessarily a Contradiction in Terms" http://thecfoconnection.com/white-collar-productivity-not-necessarily-a-contradiction-in-terms-2/
[3] Burak Delier home page
https://burakdelier.wordpress.com/

20181119: Buxbaum | Nguyễn's Phở

We succumbed to the cold and headed to the shopping center in Neubaugasse to stock up on gloves, hats and under-shirts. By the time we decided what to buy it we had to head to our reservation at Buxbaum. The intention was to short circuit our lazy food/tourist experience by going to a Michelin-rated restaurant that would give us a positive impression of the local cuisine. We ordered one of everything off of the lunch menu. It was fine; the trend of small plates, daring mixtures of flavors, unexpected parings of sweet in salty or vice versa, there are fashionable flavors, cooking techniques and although the cuisine is different, I was reminded that upscale dining basically tastes the same in every country. And we agreed, as we always do, not to go to expensive restaurants anymore. The only other patrons were businessmen visiting from the UK.

Even with our new winter apparel, it was so cold and unpleasantly wet outside that after lunch we inadvertently became Viennese by taking a long coffee break, reading the news and snacking on cakes at Cafe Diglas.

The Bruegul show at the Kunsthistorisches Museum was impossible to get tickets to, but we saw a collections show curated by Wes Anderson and his wife. The show looked like a Wes Anderson movie. Visually very appealing, completely corrosive of the historic and artistic importance of the works in the collection. But I liked to see it just the same, perhaps because so often visual art exhibitions are aesthetically destitute and can be experienced by someone with 20/20 vision just as well as someone with 0/20 vision and a text-to-voice program reading the curatorial statement.

The top floor temporary space showed photographs of "The Last Days" by Helmut Wimmer, who had photoshopped scenes of nature into the museum galleries as if humanity had gone extinct and nature was taking back possession of the world.[1] I liked the idea, which was basically a site-specific recreation of the book “The World Without Us.” The execution could have been pushed further; some of the photoshopped works did not take into account basic things like the direction of a spotlight on the gallery of heads, which would have cast a shadow on the photoshopped forest floor, or even the color space of the superimpositions and the background. The artist paid attention to the glossy floor reflections, but could have used a few more youtube tutorials on digital collage.

The highlight of the day was using a Lime scooter to go home, which was a lot of fun and somewhat dangerous. I can see these as the future of transportation. Much faster than walking, not the lifestyle/danger commitment of biking, especially since bikes in the US are required to use the streets, but scooters could use sidewalks, and no worries about parking them.

We ate Nguyễn's Phổ, which was packed and appropriate cuisine for a cold, wet day. The broth was good, with a strong meat flavor, but they didn't serve the fresh lime or sauces that you're supposed to get with phổ.


[1] helmutwimmer.net
essl.at
wennessoweitist.com

20181120: Vienna Art Week | Nachmarkt

Vienna Art Week was a primary reason why we decided to come to Vienna, and when we came. For me, it was an excuse to see the city while working in residence in Graz. Susan Hapgood had highly recommended it and the only question was balancing time with Vanesa and time "working." I was particularly interested in seeing what was happening at the alternative spaces.[1] I would have liked to have time to visit the Artist in Residence of Krinzinger Projekte, kunsthalle Exnergasse, Q21/MuseumsQuartier or studio das weiss haus but they all would begin after our scheduled departure or were closed because it was Sunday.

The first event we tried to visit was in a furniture store. I liked the idea of art art occupying the space of decorative art. Unfortunately the information of the opening time posted online was not right and the place was locked and no one was inside. The photos of cities weren't that interesting anyway and I got more from the description than I would have from some time mingling with strangers:

Fifty percent of the world population today dwells in cities. By 2025, 500 million more people will live in the 600 largest cities in the world. Apparently cities remain “the most promising paradises.” Luca Faccio has captured the centers and peripheries of metropolises such as Tokyo, Seoul, New York, Pyongyang, Beijing, Mexico City and Vienna. He presents his travel photographs in the ambience of a vintage furniture store under liquidation in order to trace the visions of international (post-)modernism “in retrovisionary fashion” (Paolo Bianchi). [2]

The second event we tried to visit was an artist talk at Loft8 by the realist painters Richard Jurtitsch and Marianne Lang. I presumed the talk would be in English because many of the events on the website specified that the event would be in German, and this event did not. But when we entered the gallery the attendant immediately approached us and asked if we understood German and told us it would be entirely in German but that we were welcome to stay and enjoy the nuances of the German language. Very nice, but we left after looking at the paintings of photorealistic water on glass or metal and buildings made of green, plant-like cells.

We decide to play it safe by going to a big institution that had no talk, just a show: "VER _VER _VER“ at the Sigmund Freud Museum. Outside was the video installation of Katharina Heinrich. We spent about 30 seconds watching the text on screen.[3] Inside was a show of mostly conceptual art works, which seemed fitting in the Freud Museum. Conceptual art may be the bastard grandchild of psychoanalysis. A few big names and a few new works I hadn't seen. But the real prize was at the wine table. At first only people over 50 were there; a younger graffiti artist came later. I think in total, including Vanesa and I, there were 11 people at this "opening." I spoke with one lady who seemed on the autistic spectrum. The man who was talking to her quickly disappeared when we introduced ourselves. It did not feel like a healthy art "scene" but maybe "If you build it they will come" ?

The art that I most enjoyed in Vienna was at Ed Ruscha's exhibition at Secession in which he showed used drum heads skins with double negative phrases painted on them. "Ruscha's show at Secession marks the public debut of a new series of linguistic paintings informed by his memories of Oklahoma City, where he spent his teenage years, and the city's distinctive slang: used parchment drumheads are inscribed with locution whose shared feature is the use of a double negation–"I ain't telling you no lie," for example, and "I can't find my keys nowhere."[4] Ruscha's artist books were gorgeous, holding ground against his 2 meter paintings of an American flag weathering in front of a series of sky conditions.

Philipp Timischl's show, Artworks for All Age Groups, was an unconvincing attempt at blasé, undermined by repetition of the ordinary. The artist dressed in drag-hyper-glam-gold, high heels, color-coordinated with the Beethoven murals, was photographed moving through the museum, accompanied by a shirtless male companion. The photos were stylistically fashion-magazine, ca. 1990s. The gender/identity element distracted from the teetering plinths and corporate paint-ball arena, obstacle-course layout of the show, safely mixed with unrewarding looping videos, coyly comprised of a counting down clock that endured longer than the content itself. The show was basically four artworks–the photos, the video, the tilting plinths, and the performance of the photos–re-iterated again and again, in subtle variation through a series of rooms. Timischl has figured out how to monetize video art by tacking a 2D work above the display and placing the monitor on the floor, as if they two works interact like a diptych. But in the company of Ruscha, whose unique, idiosyncratic, dry body of work was foundational for the banal art trends of the 1990s (Koons, et al), Timischl's regurgitation at claim to "the everyday" is clumsy, insecure and confused. But this was a curatorial shortcoming; the work would have been more engaging in one large room, rather than a several small rooms, which would have drawn more attention to the nuances in the chains and photos.

The night markets were in season swing. Glühwein and sweets in the crowd and the ineradicable memory of the headline of a terrorist van driving through the splendor.


[1] The participating alternative spaces were: Apartment Draschan & Draschan; Blickle Raum Spiegelglas; Dimensions Variable; fAN Kunstverein; Favorites in Favoriten; flatI; fluc; hinterland galerie; k48 - Offensive fur zeitgenössische Wahrnehmung Projektraum Oliver Hangl; Kunstraum Super; Neuer Kunstverein Wien; PFERD - Forum zur Forderung Zeitgenössischer Kunst; Salon 4; and sehsaal.
[2] Exhibition: “Luca Faccio – Metro:snoisiV” Lagerhaus 1900–1950, Große Neugasse.
[3] The material on which Katharina Heinrich’s new video work is based consists of three words, each with the prefix “VER.” The individual letters run in horizontal shifts, elongations and overlappings to form a bright horizon on a dark background. This continuously flowing rhythm gives rise to a mass of character combinations whose meaning cannot be figured out for some time. It is only after the first five minutes of this 10-minute piece have passed that one of the nouns starts to emerge more clearly, while the other two vanish. For a moment, it is only the suffix of one (“UNG”) together with the prefix of the other (“VER”) that flank the “leitmotif” remaining in the middle.

The vanished terms linger in the memory for a while like afterimages, and yet their semantics hold more than just a simple reference to the rules of grammar. The attempt to establish significant links between the words enriches the kaleidoscopic moving script with complex levels of meaning. “The work refers to the current global sociopolitical situation, the suggestive use of language in elections. The words are an allusion in particular to 2018 as an anniversary year in Austria,” says the artist, who also utilizes modes of “delusion and disillusion” and of “construction and deconstruction” as tools for gaining insight.
[4] Ed Ruscha, Philip Timischl, Kris Lemsalu: 16.11.2018-20.1.2019" Secession museum booklet, Vienna, Austria 2018.

20181201: Kunsthaus Graz | Gries

"Congo Stars" is group show of 70 Congolese artists living in Paris, Brussels, Kinshasa and Lubumbashi. The list of participating artists on the website ends with "and many more." [1] Entering the exhibition one is orientated by two architectural models of a city block made of cardboard, by Bodys Isek Kingelez. The works locate the visitor into a colorful and multicultural urban space. Kingelez was working in the second half of the 20th Century making “futuristic visions for Congo’s transition after its independence from Belgian rule.” [2] The models are amazing in detail and certainly stand out from the rest of the exhibition's works, which mostly pivot between paintings of historical events or documentary.

A central orienting device in the exhibition was a two-sided timeline that bisected each from of the exhibition, recounting in parallel the colonization through decolonization of Congo by the Dutch and Africa by Austria. I found my own relation there when I read of the formation of the Afro-Asiatische Institut in the 1960s, which was intended as a conduit of exchange for Austria's former colonial lands. The timeline could have been an artwork or exhibition in its own right; it offered both the large scope of geopolitical events but also the specific histories, such as assassinations, production of artworks.

I was surprised by how many paintings there were, or rather how few of other media were included. Since most painters draws also, works on paper could have easily been included and would have offered a window into the development of some of these works, giving them more of their own universe, rather than simply include as many painter's paintings as possible. The few videos that were interesting: a performance of a woman hanging laundry; another showed a dry, eroded landscape from which colorful smoke was fuming; it reminded me of the sulphur mines I've seen. But by the time I got to them on the second floor, I was already tired from wading through history and dozens of oil on canvases.

This could be thought of as a post-colonial or Congolese diaspora exhibition; the terms are not mutually exclusive, but there are repercussions to framing an exhibition in either way. "Post-colonial" includes artworks about colonization, perhaps not even by someone who was ever directly colonized. I couldn't help but think about how the interest in post-coloniality may recreate or mimic the attraction to the exotic that was rampant in mid-to-late 19th Century Western art history: Delacroix, Degas and Gauguin–who was perhaps the most colonial of all artists because his work isn't considered with these aesthetic canons of the representations, but his methodology of working in Tahiti, depicting the Westernized community as exotic, and enjoying the sexual liberation of the islanders in the same way the colonizers traveled from Europe to indulge in the exotic women in distant lands. Is our fascination for paintings from the Congo greater than our fascination for Congolese paintings by painters who moved to Paris, Brussels or Graz? Has our appetite for the exotic grown from the Other that lives in our building, neighborhood, city or country to reach out to another country from which our neighbor originates? Are those who are in between–those whose parents were colonized but whose children have grown up in a new land–still a relevant part of the narrative to which our fascination tracks? That is, mus the Other be authentically Another, culturally, linguistically, etc.? Is our interest limited by the absence of institutions in those exotic countries, and so we temporarily settle on a local who has only a remote connection to another culture, until that culture builds its own institutions? Is our attraction to post-coloniality toward the exotic Other, or a hope to reverse our exploitative past behavior and re-distribute wealth for the improvement, development or modernization of those crippled by poverty, or both, and does any, either, or all of these motivations really vary from the motivations of colonialism in the first place?

Behind the Kunsthaus is the neighborhood of Gries. It's an immigrant community, the parts of which I've seen are largely Turkish. Between the cafes, restaurants and grocery stores, I was struck by the prevalence of barbershops filled with young men whose hairstyle – shape ups, flat-tops, etc – formed by and dependent upon a personal subscriptions to hair products, resembled the barber shops and styles found in Puerto Rican and Dominican neighborhoods in the Bronx, Brooklyn and Harlem. Are these two communities in conversation? Could visual representations in music culture drive this industry?

Cities are technologies of the Stone Age; streets, passageways, stairways and city walls made of brick and stone.


[1] "With works by

Abis, Alfi Alfa, Sammy Baloji, Gilbert Banza Nkulu, Chéri Benga, Bodo, Vitshois Mwilambwe Bondo, Burozi, Dominique Bwalya Mwando, Chéri Cherin, Trésor Cherin, Djilatendo, Ekunde, Sam Ilus, Jean Kamba, Lady Kambulu, Eddy Kamuanga Ilunga, Kasongo, Jean Mukendi Katambayi, Aundu Kiala, J.P. Kiangu, Bodys Isek Kingelez, Ange Kumbi, Hilaire Balu Kuyangiko, Londe, Albert et Antoinette Lubaki, Gosette Lubondo, Ernest Lungieki, George Makaya Lusavuvu, Tinda Lwimba, Michèle Magema, Maurice Mbikayi, Maman Masamba, Matanda, Mbuëcky Jumeaux, JP Mika, Mega Mingiedi Tunga, Moke, Moke-Fils, Gedeon Ndonda, Nkaz Mav, Vincent Nkulu, Vuza Ntoko, Chéri Samba, SAPINart, Monsengo Shula, Sim Simaro, Maître SYMS, Tambwe, Tshibumba Kanda Matulu, Pathy Tshindele Kapinga, Tuur Van Balen & Revital Cohen and many more."

"Congo Stars," Exhibition, Universalmuseum Joanneum, Kunsthaus Graz, 22 September 2018 - 27 January 2019
https://www.museum-joanneum.at/en/kunsthaus-graz/exhibitions/exhibitions/events/event/6973/congo-stars-3
[2]"Fantastical Cityscapes of Cardboard and Glue at MoMA," Roberta Smith, NY Times, May 31, 2018
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/31/arts/design/bodys-isek-kingelez-review-moma.html?action=click&module=RelatedLinks&pgtype=Article

20181205: Johan König | KW Institute

At the Berlinische Galerie I saw Julian Charrière's Gasag Art Prize show, "As We Used to Float," a "multimedia spatial installation that takes visitors below the surface of the Pacific Ocean. Seventy years after the United States first began testing atomic weapons on Bikini Atoll, the artist embarked on an expedition into the territory which is now permanently uninhabitable for humans due to the environmental damage caused by those tests. The exhibition depicts the legacies left behind both above and below the sea level, enabling visitors to experience them physically within the exhibition space." [1]

The large screen projection was followed by a room of stacked lead (?) missile radome's, a second screen and a chandelier of plastic bags with algal growth in it. Charrière, a student of Olafur Eliasson's Institutionalization für Raumexperimente, is positioning himself to be a Eliasson replica.

Aesthetically there is a documentary "truth" conveyance in the footage, an absent editor who is neutrally showing the horrors of aged demolition. But the approach isn't so different from Alexander von Humboldt's approach in Latin America, who went about "discovering" plants and animals, i.e. putting them in European taxonomical systems, all the while brushing away the knowledge of the the indigenous people. I found it strange, or maybe even 19th Century, that Charrière depicted something that was deemed the uninhabitable for humans based on the conditions of the island, but he didn't bother to actually depict any humans–where those people went, the surrounding islands Marshall Islands. It was as if Charrière missed what was unfortunate about the site he was documenting and recapitulated the same gravity in his film. A more humane approach could have include the voices of people from the Marshall Islands, many of whom have moved to Oregon, or the story of the people displaced. That would have had an element of emotion, rather than just contextualized landscape documentary. But that’s a position in contemporary art.

Nina E. Schönefeld's "Dark Waters" (2018, 15:55 min) and "Snow Fox" (2018, 10:03 min) are part of a fictional series of videos that imagine a future world in which the current political, social and environmental crisis have further evolved for the worse. "Snow Fox" is described as "a science fiction film set in the near future: the eponymous heroine works for a company that manipulates the weather, resulting in the spread of brain disease. Snow Fox meets a group of women fighting for the last 'natural' place on Earth." I watched for 12 minutes but got annoyed by the genre bending.

"Schönefeld quotes the aesthetics of various formats and genres – from blockbuster series like Mr. Robot or classics of cinema like Clockwork Orange to computer game tutorials and high-end streetwear by Gosha Rubchinskiy." [2]

On the bottom floor of Johan König gallery were three works made of magnets. Visually, it referenced Ad Reinhardt's Black paintings, but the pattern more clearly matched squared hardworking floors. The experience viewing the works are precisely, walk into the room, see black textured surface, notice one of the floor standing away from the wall, vertically and independent of a support, return to looking at the wall piece, think of graphite, notice the texture, look within each square and realize these are made of magnets, look back at the floor piece and then realize a third, towering pillar was in the corner, leave.

On the second floor was the film "I Can See Forever," by Jeremy Shaw. The film, which is either found footage or shot on VHS, exploits the familiar texture to distort the temporality of the film that supposed takes place in a future beyond 2018, but is discussed in a recent past tense.

"I Can See Forever" is a pseudo-documentary set approximately 40 years in the future. It is presented as an episode of a documentary television series about the 'Singularity Project' – a failed government experiment that aimed to create a harmonious synthesis of human and machine. The film exposes the story of the only known survivor, 27 year-old Roderick Dale. Born with an 8.7% Machine DNA biology and uninterested in the virtual reality-trappings of his time, Dale has committed himself to a life immersed in dance. During his unique, virtuosic activities, he claims to be able to 'See Forever' – a multi-layered and contentious term that he defines as the ability to transcend to a digital plane of total unity while maintaining a corporeal physical presence. His rather hermetic life is devoted to studying ballet, modern, and various subcultural styles of dance on television. Candid scenes of a solitary Dale traversing empty civic spaces confirm the fact that ordinary denizens prefer to privately absorb themselves in the The Unit – an advanced virtual reality device that has replaced spiritual experience in humans."[2] I really liked the video until I learned that he had used basically the same special effects of the dance sequence in the previous video of the Quantification Trilogy, “Liminals” (2017). The scene is the last part of the film. He’s built up the anticipation of this transcendental dancer. The effect is basically a pixelated tracer of the dancer slowing to a free and then being interrupted and erased by another shot, in succession. The fact that the effect was a gimmick, and not styled for that particular video changed how I thought of the sequence.

I visited the KW institute for the final hour. The most interesting show a retrospective of Beatriz González, a Colombian artist, whose works span sixty years and 120 works. Her paintings reminded me of the paintings in the Botero Museum of Medellín, not stylistically, but as representation of the political and social violence of the period, La Violencia, specifically of those that showed the battle and killing of Pedro Escobar. But I preferred González approach. Flat portraits and paintings showed people in mourning. Or in front of Columbarios, the silhouettes of two people carrying a dead body. In the largest exhibition room were the oversized furniture works from her 1970s Pop Art period. Oversized dinner platters or plates, mis-proportioned beds, all with some kitschy painting on it, reminded me of the works of Carlos Castro Arias, and suggested a pathway between Castro’s use of symbols in political critique and kitsch materials.

All of these museum visits were crude ways of killing time in Berlin until Weber's book launch at KW Institute. Jeff’s book launch began with a 20 minute film by Robert Beavers, made in the 1960s but not edited until the 2000s. Curiously, Beavers has been known to revise his film, particularly his early works. The film was comprised of short clips of a young man near a swimming pool, and a man on a beach, reclining, that finally moved in doors to Beavers reflecting a light off a mirror at the camera. Beavers was born in 1949, and I wondered if that young man in the film was not the filmmaker himself. A level of youthful eroticism coded the shots. I estimated that there were 50 different shots that were somewhat randomly woven, repeating throughout the film. I found myself wanting to just look at each shot in total duration. But the shot were gorgeous; saturated colors and well-composed. Non narrative, philosophical.  P. Adams Sitney describes Beavers style and poetics approach:

“The tactility of the cinematic image plays a central role in all of Beavers’s films. He frequently portrays the filmmaker as a hand craftsman, focusing the lens, pushing a filter across the plane of vision, making a splice. Even more often, he films hand gestures, clapping, touching, and shaping imaginary spaces. In all these references to the sense of touching there is a double acknowledgment of the power of the filmic caress and the impossibility of actually touching anything in cinema: Even the metaphors of the light touching the raw film stock or the projector beam hitting the screen reveal both the desire for a greater substantiality and its impossibility.” [4]

The clapping of the 16mm film projector announced the end. The lights came on.

Jeff and Robert conversed about the film, it’s progeny, and their collaboration at Kunsthalle Leipzig. The event was part of Berlin Sessions, a series of talks between artists. Personally, I wanted to hear more about the relationship of Beavers experience with Kunsthalle Leipzig as it pertained to Jeff’s new book, which I had read. As the last question, I tried in vane to make the connection between the book, Kunsthalle Leipzig, Beavers, appropriation art and the photography generation, but my summary fell short. We left for an after party.


[1] "Julian Charrière: As We Used to Float," Berlinische Galerie Landesmuseum für Moderne Kunst, Fotografie und Architektur, Berlin, Germany, 27 September 2018- 8 April 2019.
[2[ "Nina E. Schönefeld," Berlinische Galerie Landesmuseum für Moderne Kunst, Fotografie und Architektur, Berlin, Germany, 28 November 2018 - 7 January 2019.
[3] "Jeremy Shaw | I Can See Forever," text by Maxwell Stephens,König Galerie, St. Agnes, Berlin, Germany, 24 November - 20 December 2018.
[4] Eyes Upside Down: Visionary Filmmakers and the Heritage of Emerson, P. Adams Sitney, Oxford University Press, New York. 2008