Neoliberal Lulz at Carroll / Fletcher

Carroll/Fletcher Gallery’s soon-to-shut exhibition Neoliberal Lulz takes a look at manifestations of capitalism, and specifically at the joint-stock company, a form of social organisation that is both broadly criticised and utterly indispensable.

Femke Herregraven ‘Rogue Waves’ 2015, engraved aluminium sticks. Source: Carroll / Fletcher

The press release invokes the fall of the gold standard in 1971, but the more resonant historical starting point is the 2008 Global Financial Crisis (GFC), the aftermath of which we are, arguably, only halfway through.  The artists in the show intertwine a perspective on the GFC with parallel, and more than incidentally related, developments in Western consumerist society, technology and politics.  In comparison other work on similar themes out there, this is a sophisticated take, aestheticised with high production values.  It is also muted: no screeching about Late Capitalism – yet it remains an eminently political and punchy show.

Constant Dullaart, Femke Herregraven, Emilie Brout & Maxime Marion, and Jennifer Lyn Morone combined investigations into the mechanics of financial capitalism, particularly the corporation, with elements of contemporary social discourse, such as privacy in a networked world, corporate tax evasion, or the visuals of ubiquitous advertising.  From a material perspective, the exhibition was very long video and web, and short to the tune of 20,000 shares sold online to the public.  The physical stuff on display was slick – perspex, photographs, CGI video, machined aluminium, etched glass, careful ink-on-paper drawing, neon.  One could easily see in this show the genealogy of Haacke, Sekula, Klein, and the aesthetics-of-administration, albeit less explicitly applied here to the Artworld.

Herregraven’s work, I thought, took the subtlest approach – he seemed to focus on the terminology of high-frequency trading, and its emphasis on ultra-short timescales, the so-called ‘latency’ of a stock order-routing network. Machined aluminium bars both recalled a graph of pulses in a fibre-optic cable, as well as a more archaic currency: the Spartan legislator Lycurgus, perhaps to prevent the corrosive influence of ‘easy’ money in society, mandated that gold and silver coins be replaced by heavy and unwieldy iron bars.  In doing so, any usefulness of money that stemmed from its portability would be eliminated, leaving only its function as a numeraire.

In another work, Herregraven worked with Dutch technologists to make an online game of tax avoidance – players could organise the corporate structure of their (fictional) companies to minimise tax bills.  This reflects the contemporary anger about multinationals using the tax code to drastically cut their taxes.  There’s an ambiguity here that oft goes unmentioned: the companies are generally using perfectly legal means, and mostly complying with laws that democratically-elected legislators have enacted.  Thus to get angry (only) at the companies is to overlook the fact that politicians, the system, and indeed, in many cases, voters themselves, are at fault.  I recall a U.S. appellate-court judge, the brilliantly-named Learned Hand, commenting on taxation: ‘Any one may so arrange his affairs that his taxes shall be as low as possible; he is not bound to choose that pattern which will best pay the Treasury; there is not even a patriotic duty to increase one’s taxes.’ (in Helvering vs Gregory [1934] Source: Chirelstein, Marvin A. Learned Hand’s Contribution to the Law of Tax Avoidance in Yale Law Journal Vol 77, 1968.

Emilie Brout & Maxime Marion ‘Untitled Sas’ 2015. Source: Carroll / Fletcher

Emilie Brout and Maxime Marion established a French company, the sole purpose of which was to be a work of art, and are selling shares in the company online (  As a corporate shell with no debt, its value is lower-bounded by the cash it holds from share subscriptions, while the sky is the limit on the upside, and indeed the company is now worth €300,000.  In doing so, they reference and update Yves Klein’s conceptual share-certificate work Zone of Immaterial Pictorial Sensibility (1959).  They were advised by a French legal firm, presumably to ensure regulatory compliance for share offerings – something that is not merely a technical footnote.  Although the facts are quite different, one may for illustration and amusement read about the 2015 Sand Hill Exchange case: what might happen when the ‘fun’ aspect of an online game, interacts with pedantic, boring, and ever so aggressively-enforced SEC rules (

In another, slightly more predictable work, they ordered free samples of gold-coloured objects, which were then framed along with texts that document where and how they were produced.  The works seemed to comment on labour, production chains, and whether things described as ‘free’ or ‘costless’ really are so (thus tying in nicely with Morone below).  They also echo Christopher Williams’ practice that exposes, via attached text or books, the documentation, material, bureaucracy and geography of the banal objects he photographs, albeit without the beauty or intense staging that Williams brings to bear on the images themselves.

Jennifer Lyn Morone continued with the idea of the corporate entity, in this case, incorporating herself and selling shares.  Her specific angle relates to the contention that internet-users collectively give away an enormous amount of personal data to the companies that provide internet services.  Even if the data is aggregated and anonymised, it is still valuable as it correlates geography, consumption (eating, buying, browsing) patterns, social networks, medical anxieties (as evidenced by web searches), political allegiances, and so forth.  We give this up in exchange for free, or the perception of free, access to the internet and perhaps even consumer goods (Shoshana Zuboff wrote a great piece on this in the Frankfurter Allegemeine Zeitung  Morone’s concept and videos, and its connections to bio-politics, are considerably more thought-provoking than her somewhat forced manufactured objects that cross consumer design and advertising: perfume-on-a-plinth or diamonds-made-from-hair.

Jennifer Lyn Morone ‘JLM Inc Promotional Video’ 2014. Source: Carroll / Fletcher

Lastly, Constant Dullaart had a number of video and image-based works that reflected on corporate design and branding, as well as the fact that companies develop technology that is used for purposes that not everyone agrees with, so-called ‘dual-use’: in this case, spyware that might have been utilised to monitor various political activities during the 2014 Arab Spring.  These works were all well-made, but other than the large photographs in the front room, they didn’t seem particularly strong aesthetically or conceptually: I didn’t discern a lot of new ideas or imaginative re-workings of old ideas.

Constant Dullaart ‘Most likely involved in sales of intrusive privacy breaching software and hardware solutions to oppressive governments during so called Arab Spring’ 2014. Source: Carroll / Fletcher

The exhibition as a whole, however, provides a different take to other relevant recent shows.  For instance, Show Me the Money: The Image of Finance, 1700 to the Present (2014-2016), is a particularly comprehensive and historical look at finance and financial crises.  The academic curators have, admirably, taken on difficult topics and tried to make them somewhat accessible to a general audience.  Furtherfield’s Art Data Money (2015) programme had some overlap with the Carroll/Fletcher exhibition (Morone and Brout/Marion were shown), but with a more explicit political agenda and with much greater emphasis on social engagement/participation.  Carroll/Fletcher’s conceptual cross between corporate structure and technology, delivered as a tasteful and elegant exhibition in a major for-profit gallery points out what is really at stake here: the inherent ambiguity we face in criticising capitalism while sitting comfortably within its consumerist cocoon.

Tauba Auerbach at Paula Cooper: Sexy Glass Meets the Mathematical Sublime

What started as a review of Tauba Auerbach’s current show at Paula Cooper led to the question of how indeed a successful work of art might engage with mathematics – what might be some approaches to visualising abstract and often inaccessible concepts?

Tauba Auerbach The New Ambidextrous Universe (2014) Source: ICA

Prior to seeing the New York exhibition, I visited the artist’s 2014 show at London’s ICA, The New Ambidextrous Universe.  In London, Tauba Auerbach exhibited about 7 objects, made of plywood, glass, perspex, and powder-coated steel.  The objects, smooth-surfaced and minimal, yet elaborately turned and possibly machine-made, looked sort of like useless furniture.  Formally, they were united by a concern with chirality: some carried a right-handed orientation, others left, while (and here my memory may fail me) a glass piece demonstrated a similar idea through light-polarisation.  Despite, or perhaps because of, the show’s sophisticated intellectual premise, I found myself oddly un-moved by it – there was no punch to the gut.  All I saw was reasonably nicely-made objects on low long plinths, in designer colours – stuff that would look great at Heal’s or an expensive Knightsbridge condo, and definitely looked like what art is supposed to look like.

Tauba Auerbach The New Ambidextrous Universe (2014) Source: ICA

Reading interviews with the artist, it’s clear that she has a fascination with the idea of maths, and while that undoubtedly finds its way into the work, I felt her pieces added but little to my understanding, or even appreciation, of chirality or of the eponymous book by the late Martin Gardner.

Tauba Auerbach Projective Instrument (2016) Source: Author’s own image

Her current exhibition, Projective Instrument is also built around a book, this time by an eclectic American architect, Claude Bragdon, whose interests spanned higher-dimensional geometry through to Theosophy.  The exhibition had a number of her trademark objects, made during a glass residency, as well as woven paintings.  These, or similar, paintings unfortunately were displayed to much greater effect, alongside Charlotte Posenenske’s work, in the gorgeous rooms of Indipendenza Roma  (2015).  The Paula Cooper show also featured seductively-coloured paintings made with custom-made implements ‘inscribing patterns derived from chain-maille, fractal curves, and four-dimensional tilings into the paint’ (press release).  At the end of the day, however, they were pretty simple, inoffensive wall decorations that neither illuminated the mathematics nor particularly pushed the boundaries of artistic practice.  Auerbach’s imprint, Diagonal Press, was, if anything, more interesting, showing copies of Bragdon’s book, amongst others.  I couldn’t tell if they were for sale, or if they’re thrown in gratis if one spends (apparently) $150,000 on a painting.

Tauba Auerbach Projective Instrument (2016) Source: Paula Cooper Gallery
Tauba Auerbach Projective Instrument (2016) Source: author’s own image of ‘library’ at Paula Cooper Gallery

A second take on maths-in-art comes from Falke Pisano’s rather good show at Hollybush Gardens (London, 2015), entitled The Value in Mathematics.  Pisano’s approach was more cerebral, less apparently infatuated with maths: in fact, there was very little about maths per se.  It was more about the teaching of mathematics, and how the subject is presented in society.  The exhibition consisted of a number of flat works, sculptures, and videos.  The flat works seemed to be unified by descriptive texts or titles on the wall, while the sculptures had in common an open structure, relatively humble or light materials, and open plinths.  For me, the overwhelming aesthetic was that of Modernism, of graphic design from a pre-computer era.  However, on closer viewing, particularly of the prints, the organising principle revealed itself: the various prints described what could be characterised as systems of valuation or exchange.  What animated the exhibition were the videos which, curiously, brought a more human and less conceptual feel to what could have been a cold and information-heavy exhibition.  Only at the end did I read the press release, and worked out the political sub-text of the show: as I understand, it challenges the impression, apparently promulgated by mathematicians, that mathematics is somehow objective and ‘value-free’, whatever that means.  The exhibition proposes that the teaching of mathematics makes it inherently political, context-dependent, and hierarchical.  Whether one thinks Pisano’s particular programme is interesting or not, her handling of the material is deft, a collage of politics and the scientific, woven into a fictional system of thought, perhaps intentionally layered, obscure, even obtuse [1].  I found Pisano much more convincing than Auerbach, where the maths seems just grafted onto a high-end design practice in order, one might surmise, to lend gravitas.  At a presentational level, I liked the fact that Pisano’s show gave the impression that it could only be bought in its entirety, or even if bought piecemeal, the individual works would always be somehow connected to the installation.  Auerbach’s were as distinct art-objects as they come: almost painfully asking to be collected.

Falke Pisano The Value in Mathematics (2015) Source: Hollybush Gardens
Falke Pisano The Value in Mathematics (2015) Source: Hollybush Gardens

Having looked at two artists working with maths, I wanted to highlight the counter-example: a mathematician attuned to visual aesthetics.  Thomas Banchoff, a geometer at Brown University, pioneered the use of 3-D computer graphics to explore higher-dimensional geometries.  In the old days, mathematicians used plaster Schilling models, such as those in the Harvard, MIT, or Oxford collections, to visualise complex geometric objects.  Banchoff’s contribution was to use CGI to animate the shapes, allowing the viewer to perceive the model as it unfolds in time and thus form a mental image of what a 4-D object might look like and how it might behave.  I would argue that, by allowing manipulation of the objects, the viewer could ‘fly’ around the shape in a way that simply wasn’t possible before, and intuition could be built directly from the image, rather than being mediated through the symbolic logic of the maths, or the drudgery and expense of finding physical models.  Moreover, the physical models remain in a fixed 3-D configuration, whereas the digital allows for any 3 of the possible 4 (or higher) dimensions to be projected.

Schilling Model in Harvard’s collection of geometric models. Source: Harvard University


However, as Banchoff doesn’t reference the conventions of the Artworld, either by contextualising his images vis a vis Theory or presenting them in an arty way, perhaps he wouldn’t be thought of, nor call himself, a practicing artist [2].  Yet, I feel his works are of far greater profundity than either Auerbach’s superficial approach or Pisano’s valid and interesting, sociological critique.  They marry visual aesthetics with a potential for conceptual or perceptual access to a reality that lies beyond the mere image.

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Real and imaginary parts of the complex exponential function w=e^z. Source: Thomas Banchoff
Rotation of the Clifford Torus/Hopf Fibration in 4-D. Source: Thomas Banchoff

An artist whose approach parallels Banchoff, while acknowledging, and being acknowledged by, the Artworld, is Manfred Mohr.  Still producing, with recent shows in London (Cubitt Gallery [2015] and Carroll/Fletcher [2016/2014/2012]), he used some of the earliest plotters to produce works on paper, notably a series exploring views of the 4-D cube, a so-called hypercube or tesseract.  Mohr’s work visually has an affinity to Minimalism’s serial tradition, but genealogically is better placed in relation to Concrete Art, particularly artists such as Jeffrey Steele and Anthony Hill.  Mohr’s geometric focus, and a methodical exploration of all combinatorial alternatives, impacts the viewer through its sheer exhaustiveness and perceptual immersion.  Some of his pieces, even more than Banchoff’s, imply the physically-impossible and the infinite.  It is notable that he achieves this without colour, without any quasi-mystical or metaphysical twaddle, and his works are entirely governed by the internal logic of their generative rules.

Manfred Mohr P-231a (1978). Source: Manfred Mohr

The last, and potentially most interesting approach, is to view maths as an essentially performative practice.  ‘Performative’, a over-used word in art-speak, is utilised in a specific sense here: the act of drawing a picture, handling a plaster model, manipulating a digital model, are ways of understanding, visually and haptically, how a given mathematical concept, for instance a multi-valued complex function, behaves: where are the zeroes, where lie the saddles and branches?  This sense of the term ‘performative’ is taken up in the papers of Xin Wei Sha, a professor in Differential Topology who has sought to look at the practice of mathematics in light of analytical constructs used in art and critical theory.

In my view, what’s interesting about this approach is that it can be seen to break the understanding of a given mathematical problem into three levels: an intuitive grasp of the problem, let’s say the true knowledge; a symbolic quasi-linguistic analysis, such as a proof; and a graphical or haptic ‘feel for the thing’, which I equate with the performative.  The actual drawing, digital image, physical model, blackboard scribbled with equations are residues of a symbolic or performative method.  These physical residues can be put in a book, and indeed, if packaged a certain way and accepted as such by relevant competent judges, can be called art.  But if the primary content of mathematical understanding is fundamentally intuitive, lying somewhere between the visual, the symbolic, and the physical, then it’s likely that a non-mathematician may never really access that content.  Moreover, without facility with these tools, he/she is unlikely to communicate effectively with trained mathematicians operating in a network of peers [3].  The most we can do is ‘poke’ at it, try to access it by manipulating the geometric objects, or, more interestingly, engage in a Wittgenstinian project of ’drawing connections’ between the mathematical objects and the world-at-large.  To the extent these syntheses, these connections, are haunting and unexpected, we judge the success (or lack thereof) of art like Auerbach’s or Pisano’s.

Walter De Maria Silver Meters and Gold Meters (1976-1977). Source: Prufrock’s Dilemna blog

I end with an analogy to Land Art. Certain artists such as Walter De Maria were concerned with documenting an ungraspable moment in time and space, or in the case of his Dia Beacon pieces, an apparently obvious yet subtle mathematical idea.  Yet in the case of The Lightning Field, the primary aesthetic experience remained in him, and an element of it now invests the few viewers who can actually make it out to New Mexico.  Similarly, Hamish Fulton and Richard Long made their experience, their walks, often in the countryside, the apparent content of their work, accessible substantially to themselves.  The documentation is entirely secondary, from an aesthetic point of view, if not from a financial/re-sale perspective.  It is as if, knowing they can never compete with the immensity of nature, they made minimal, repetitive but exquisitely calculated sculptural gestures: Et in Arcadia ego.


1  Fiduccia, Joanna Report: Bullshit ! Calling Out Contemporary Art, MAP Magazine, 1 June 2010, , accessed 23/12/15.

2 See Arthur Danto’s What Art Is (2013) for an introduction to how the late Danto analysed the perennially interesting question of what art is, and the circularity in art’s definition, particularly in the age of the ready-made.

3 Subject obviously to exceptions such as M.C. Escher, and his collaboration with Lionel & Roger Penrose.

No Collars: A Sicilian Mediation

This essay was posted on the blog of the Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) in London, to coincide with Bloomberg New Contemporaries 2015/2016 (an annual exhibition of newly-graduated students from UK art schools, which ended 24 January 2016).  The essay accompanies a video Almadraba 38.17° N 13.24° E , and uses the colours, buildings, light and poetry of Sicily to project a multi-layered narrative.

(Im-)Migration, a topic of contemporary urgency for Sicily and Europe, as for the U.S., is given a contrasting, complementary, treatment here.  The artist, U. Kanad Chakrabarti, mines his own biography to subtly explore skilled, middle-class immigration that has contributed to American technology, medical, and academic success between the 1970s to September 11, 2001.  Moreover, Sicily itself, between 1900 and the 1960s, exported thousands of economic migrants, who contributed to the building of New York and the re-building of Northern Italy.  The artist’s treatment, perhaps, can be seen to present some light at the end of Europe’s present dark tunnel of migration.

The video’s perspective on Sicily is also informed by the island’s 12th century fusion of Arab, Byzantine and Norman culture.  As in Spanish al-Andalus, the Arab culture inflected language, food, architecture, and social norms in Sicily.  A symbol of this was the great map and atlas produced by an Islamic cartographer Ibrahim al-Idrisi.  Chakrabarti, as in previous works such as Clifford Torus (2014) or the video i j k w (2014), relates this historical world map to more abstract mathematical approaches to projection and mapping.

Contemporary Art in Rome Summer 2015

Every self-respecting hipster needs a smattering of culture, so we spent some time in Rome staying near the piazza of Testaccio. Between lovely meals, walked off in the (relatively) cool shade of the Tiber banks, and a daily siesta during the hours of the sun’s anvil, we tried to catch a few galleries. Rome, probably owing to the many of young foreign artists on residencies at the British School, the American Academy, the Swiss Institute, etc., and the not-inconsiderable amount of, probably ill-gotten, money there, has a decent whack of good galleries, and has had so for many years. While Milan, Trentino, and the Veneto may have the lion’s share of wealthy patrons, foundations, and galleries, there are quite a few interesting spaces in Rome, Naples, and increasingly, Sicily.

Fuel for the galleries: pasta with the intestines of a newly-weaned calf ('pajata')
Fuel for the galleries: pasta with the intestines of a newly-weaned calf (‘pajata’)

Anyway, to start with we dropped by Fondazione Giuliani: a lovely space improbably housed in the basement of a large, reasonably attractive early twentieth-century apartment block in Testaccio. It shows specially commissioned projects and collaborations, but also presents the collection of Giovanni and Valeria Giuliani. It was a group show of high-calibre international artists, amongst the standouts of which were Daniel Steegmann Mangrane’s theatrical screens made of coloured metal chain-links. Alexandre Singh’s evocative sculptures alluded to his play The Humans, a riff on Aristophanes. Haris Epaminonda’s floor and wall pieces were placed around the show, and Fischli/Weiss’ seminal film The Way Things Go was riveting. The exhibition was beautifully curated by Adrienne Drake and produced in conjunction with Kunsthallelissabon in Lisbon.

IMG_3744 IMG_3743 IMG_3749

Fondazione Giuliani: Daniel Steegmann Mangrane, Alexandre Singh, Amalia Pica, Haris Epaminonda
Fondazione Giuliani: Daniel Steegmann Mangrane, Alexandre Singh, Amalia Pica, Haris Epaminonda

The highlight of the trip was identifying a rather unremarkable deconsecrated church in which NY gallerist Gavin Brown has opened a non-traditional exhibition space, roughly at the same time as his much-better-publicised valedictory show in the West Village, with its re-staging of Jannis Kounellis’ Untitled (12 Horses). Located, un-numbered, on one of the smaller streets in Trastevere, we had to ask a few crones whether they remembered a church in the area, and as we got warmer, we enquired at the neighbourhood stalwart Trattoria Da Enzo. We guessed, correctly, that this would be the place where the gallerist used to lunch, back in 2005 when he first spotted the church, when he ran a gallery in Rome with 2 other gallerists, Franco Noero and Toby Webster. We finally found it, but unfortunately lost the photographs of the inside – but it is very far from the typical ‘white cube’. Essentially it is an austere church, stripped of any baroque decorations it had, and just in front of the altar were a number of pots on portable burners, with what looked like black (marble apparently) sheep skulls and bones in them. On one of the two marble slabs was a well-dressed lady, to all intents and purposes, passed out with a couple bottles of beer next to her. The space was open to visitors, but it wasn’t so comfortable: we seemed to have stepped into an performace and installation of Rirkrit Tiravanija, an Argentine-Thai artist and professor at Columbia. I had one more reason to find his space – I remembered a bar called Passerby that Brown founded. It had a disco-lit floor that I and a coterie of Sicilian artists, in the much more affordable Chelsea of the 1990s, used to colonise.


Gavin Brown's new space in Trastevere. Interior shot courtesy
Gavin Brown’s new space in Trastevere. Interior shot courtesy

Galeria Indipendenza had a joint show of Charlotte Posenenske and Tauba Auerbach. Auerbach had some rather lovely textured and woven paintings inspired by the architecture and decoration of Rome, which worked beautifully in the the gallery’s elegant rooms. The late Posenenske was represented by gorgeous non-functional ducting: galvanised steel or cardboard sculptures, which were either originals or replicated by Auerbach (Posenenske in her life rejected notions of unique works in an apparently political statement). The sculptures remain highly contemporary, reminiscent as they are of restaurant ducting, high-volume air conditioning (HVAC) ducts, or the cooling equipment found in, say, a server farm.

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Charlotte Posenenske & Tauba Auerbach at Galeria Indipendenza
Charlotte Posenenske & Tauba Auerbach at Galeria Indipendenza

A Few Exhibitions in Chelsea – December 2014

I did my annual pre-Christmas peregrination around Chelsea’s commercial galleries: it would appear that Manhattan’s nexus of money and art is alive and well.  NYC’s tendency towards big, colourful, expensive, object-centred art is perhaps the subject of anguished navel-gazing and hand-wringing amongst certain corners of the art world.  Yet, the Chelsea galleries still are able to deliver exhibitions of a size, scope and brashness that other cities rarely match.  In contrast, London, for instance, conveys a distinctly provincial but charming feel, and intimate scale, in the quaint Georgian precincts of Mayfair (admittedly this is changing as the likes of Marian Goodman and Sadie Coles increase their footprints).

Navid Nuur
Navid Nuur
Group show at Andrew Kreps (Dianna Molzan on the far wall)
Group show at Andrew Kreps (Dianna Molzan on the far wall)

First off, after a failed attempt to find a decent espresso bar in Chelsea, I hit a group show at Andrew Kreps, the most interesting work at which was Navid Nuur’s light sculpture.  There were some rather unexciting deconstructed paintings by Diana Molzan (think wrapped stretchers, nets, grids, referencing Modernist tropes).

Martin Puryear


Martin Puryear
Martin Puryear

Then onto the Martin Puryear show at Mathew Marks, which was built around the shape of the Phrygian cap, that of the French Revolution and similar also to a Venetian Doge’s hat.  He explored the shape in an exhaustive range of materials, most of which were exquisitely fashioned in wood, tar, bronze, wire, paint.  His thing is the use of traditional craft techniques, like joinery, to produce unashamedly beautiful sculptures.  While the physical manifestation of Puryear’s skill was very impressive, the show as a whole didn’t really rise above a demonstration of virtuosity with materials.  There wasn’t enough of an overall narrative, although the PR made references to colonialism, ethnicity, etc., to make it work for me, particularly in comparison to some of the other shows (see below).

High-end condo complex going up on 22nd (?) street
Yet another high-end condo complex going up on 22nd (?) street

Gagosian ran a large show of Picasso photographs, drawings, films, objects, and paintings.  As expected, it was museum-quality, and staffed by burly, yet perfectly civil, security guards. About 30 of them.  The show itself was mesmerizing, drew on John Richardson’s scholarship, and was yet another step in Gagosian’s contribution (after the London show in 2010), or exploitation depending on your view, of the Picasso art-industrial-complex.

RH Quaytman Fibonacci installation
RH Quaytman

One of the best exhibitions was R.H. Quaytman at Gladstone.  She considered, effectively and eloquently, the vexed question of ‘how to take painting forward’?  Her works sat squarely on the border of painting and sculpture, via the path of installation and architecture.  They were system-based, linked back to the Fibonacci sequence, so had enough for the mind, while being firmly aesthetic, manual, and physical in their presence.  Their was an obligatory social-critical aspect, the show having originally being made for an installation in Inhotim Museum, Brazil.

RH Quaytman

While on the topic of painting I should mention the MoMA survey of the future of painting, which includes a number of recent acquisitions of younger painters, such as Oscar Murillo. Unfortunately, it hadn’t opened yet to the public, but the review in The New York Times was not a full-throated endorsement. 

George Condo
George Condo
George Condo


George Condo’s exhibition at Skarstedt was of all-new work, and notable for the increased emphasis of erasure and deletion of the image, than in much of his earlier oeuvre.

Hans Haacke piece relating to Koch fountains at the Met


Hans Haacke
Hans Haacke maquette/plans for Trafalgar Square

Hans Haacke at Paula Cooper was mostly of older work, however, in a side room, there was a deep-dive display, with drawings, resin casts, text, and photographs, into his commission for the Fourth Plinth of Trafalgar Square in London.  Nothing drastically new here, but a mute yet visible reminder that money and art are, and have always been, more-or-less two sides of the same coin.

Thomas Scheibitz
Thomas Scheibitz
Thomas Scheibitz
Thomas Scheibitz


Thomas Scheibitz at Tanya Bonakdar was another strong show that considered the borders of painting.  Unlike the Quaytman show, his references seemed more internal to art history, specifically the artist’s studio, rather than to the world-outside-art, and if I had only seen the ground floor large, neon-coloured abstract paintings, I might have walked out disappointed.  However, on the second floor, he extended his painterly idiom into reliefs, sculptures, installations, and a large wall-mounted mural on plastic.  His materials were diverse: wood, plastic, fabric, canvas, metal, resin.  Both this and the Quaytman were superior to the Puryear, IMHO, because of their more effective connection of material and form with concept and narrative.

Franz West sculptures for Documenta 9
Franz West sofa
Franz West bar
Franz West


But David Zwirner carried the day with Franz West, Richard Serra, Neo Rauch, and Christopher Williams, which I guess explained why he was walking about beaming and expansively welcoming well-heeled European collectors. The Franz West works were mental, and this was as much a retrospective of Zwirner’s relationship with West, as of West’s oeuvre itself.  The original, massive white heads from Documenta 9 (1992) were there, and a roomful of brilliant coloured sculptures, 2 couches to be sat on, and 2 Passstucke to be handled.  There were examples of West’s incorporation of other artists’ drawings and paintings, and even a small bar with materials for a Negroni (the guard didn’t let me make one sadly).

Franz West
Franz West
Christopher Williams
Christopher Williams
Christopher Williams, note removed wall section
Christopher Williams, note removed wall section

Christopher Williams’ show followed on the MoMA retrospective, and continued with Williams’ threefold concerns: an exploration of photography via photography; the institutional structure of art display; and the book as art-form.  Various walls in the gallery had been re-sited, and in the MoMA show some of the walls from his previous exhibitions had been transported into the MoMA space.  The photographs continued his, to paraphrase Peter Schjedahl in The New Yorker, nerdy interest in the process and, increasingly archaic, relics of photography, of Agfa, Fuji, Ciba and Leitz.  Lastly, his new picture book was completely devoid of any text, a counterpoint of the MoMA catalogue, which had almost no pictures.  It was hugely covetable, albeit dear at $120, before tax.

Zwirner’s Serra show was distinctly disappointing, the drawings being small (about 150x60cm), and giving an impression of moderately-priced objects sold to discerning collectors who can’t afford, or house, one of the larger drawings, not to mention the sculptures.

Neo Rauch
Neo Rauch at David Zwirner

Lastly, Francesco Clemente at the Rubin was a homage to India. It didn’t particularly touch me, and certainly paled in comparison to the Himalayan art, and the Marc Riboud photographic exposition. I was reminded of the Rauschenberg Jammers show at Gagosian in 2013, which, with its vastly reduced formal vocabulary, gave much more of a sense of India than Clemente’s figurative and naif paintings.

Francesco Clemente
Francesco Clemente
Marc Riboud’s Leica M6 at Rubin Museum


Marc Riboud at Rubin Museum
Marc Riboud: workers in China
Marc Riboud: Le Corbusier buildings in Chandigarh, India
Marc Riboud: armourer in Peshawar, Pakistan