Luan Bajrakti & Marko Markovic, Futur II, Vienna, Exhibition text, October 2016

Hin qetu e del qaty, is an albanian saying that means „going in and going out...“ representing a situation that is not too unpleasant, but not really welcomed either. There are two doorways leading into the exhibition space of Futur II. By connecting the two entrances via a a slim pathway consisting of a garden fence, Luan Bajraktari is rendering the much bigger rest of the room unusable, including the lavatory. The narrow route is going to be entered both ways, so space is going to become very scarce. Perhaps people will actually line up to use it just one way, in silent agreement, avoiding the otherwise inevitable closeness to a stranger, or worse: someone disliked. That would be sneaky, but still an unsuccessful evasion, for the run would be orchestrated by the artist in any case. The words manipulation and herd come to mind. Little room is left for self image when your only choice is to move forwards or backwards. Speaking of predetermination, the accessible sculpture is build as a reaction to the space as a given. Consequently, it is absorbing the room, claiming it as a part of itself. Possibly generating a claustrophobic feeling, the lenght of the walk is bearable, so one can rationalise that there is nothing to fear besides the probably unwanted proximity. But then again, barbed wire is mounted on top of the fence, aggravating the transit and further shaping ones movements. The assumption that it could prove awkward might be entirely wrong, for it may turn out jolly good fun too, evoking a connection that elsewise never could have been made. Perhaps this is where human adaptability and resilience will find expression once again, turning the coercion into folksiness. Bajraktari’s origin (Kosovo) suggests other interpretations, just as his love for gardens, as it is very common for people from the Balkans, but he will have none of it. It’s about the here and now, the confinement and its subtle effects, the reduction of ones will and the handling of that fact within this space.

Marko Markovic’s practice is more often than not pushing him to the utmost limit. Sometimes, if the audience is meant to participate, he will lure them slowly over some threshold too. In his performance Self eater (2009), in order to object against warped values in our society, or „vampire culture“ as he calls it, and to underline an urgent need for drastic change thereof, he chose auto cannibalism, eating his own flesh and drinking his own blood directly from his blood vessel via tube. During this performance he maintained eye contact with the audience at all times. In another instance he brought the initially coy audience to attack him with straws attached to needles, instructing them how to target his body, and consequently steadily dulling their inhibitions to cause him pain. He is not even dreading to get himself into downright unsafe scenarios, such as insisting to enter the security zone in the financial district of New York in Sharpening (Wall Street, 2012,) during the occupy movement, demonstratively sharpening two knifes. Markovic is frequently reacting very fast to prevailing events, translating his take on them into performance, happening and video amongst other medias. His work being politically charged , the artist is attempting to fathom the distribution of power and oppression, especially regarding immigrants, minorities and the citizen in general. At this moment, his performance for the opening of the exhibition remains a secret, but one can safely expect a rather intense experience. 

Read my article >>> Art Collector Issue 78 (Oct-Dec 2016)

Alex Ruthner, Helmuts Art Club, Exhibition text, Vienna, June 2016

Der hohe Wiedererkennungswert von Schlüsselbildern aus der Kunstgeschichte steigert in der Vermarktung  von Produkten durch solche „Veredelung“ den Umsatz. Das Kunstwerk welches als Sujet für Luxuslabels benutzt wird suggeriert den Flair des alten Geldes. Möglicherweise soll es den Konsumenten grob einige der wichtigsten Bildungspfeiler vermitteln, die Kinder einer Elite nebenbei mitgegeben bekommen haben oder die intellektuelle Elite sich erarbeitet hat. Vielleicht ist es ein Pass zu tafelfertiger Schein-Zugehörigkeit dieser oder jener Art - an sich ist es ja auch gut, dass man heutzutage seine Persona gewählter meißeln darf. Schön ist es dennoch, dass Alex Ruthner die aus der Kunstgeschichte stammenden Referenzen aus dem sinnentleerten Grab der auf das Visuelle reduzierten Zeichenerkennung hebt. Das von der Konsumindustrie prozessierte, mit dem Produkt angereicherte Motiv wird hier wirklich belebt. Die Kennzeichen, die Louis Vuitton um für eine Tasche zu werben von den Prä-Raphaeliten stibitzt hat, fängt Ruthner wiederholt auf und verwandelt Vuitton’s Kopien in Simulacra. Die für unsere Zeit relevante Reflektion über den Umgang mit kulturgeschichtlichem Erbe, dem Bedürfnis nach augenblicklicher Anerkennung und sogar darüber, wie Medien den Bildfindungsprozess eines zeitgenössischen Künstlers häufig beeinflussen, kann man in Ruthner’s Werken erkennen. Man ist beinahe schon gezwungen daran zu denken, wie der Anspruch auf sofortige Befriedigung den heutigen Kunstmarkt geformt hat. Auch Film nutzt Ruthner als Pool. Das Fleischwerden der prä-raphaelitischen Blonden in der Kampagne als auch das Mozart’s in Milos Forman’s Amadeus wird in Ruthner’s Händen wieder zu Öl. Die Auffassung der Vergangenheit durch die Linse der neueren Medien, eingefangen in einem traditionellen Medium erfrischt eben dieses Medium selbst. In Ruthner’s Bildern ist die Geste der Malerei immer sichtbar, und wirft gleichzeitig die alte Frage auf, besonders durch die Quellen seiner Motive: wie kann man je malerisch gerecht werden? Und weiter: können neue Medien eine dem Gemälde würdige Hommage hervorbringen? Kann man Gesten darstellen? Auch den Hintergrund, das Grün auf dem die Blonde ruht, ist fester Bestandteil seiner Bilder. Untersucht man die Wiesen gründlicher, finden sich in ihnen Beweise rücksichtsloser menschlicher Anwesenheit, man ahnt so etwas wie ein kürzlich stattgefundenes Festival, Zigarettenstummel, Pillen - die dämonisierten, verdrängten Anteile von Subkulturen, oder auch Pilze, eine weitere Anspielung auf Drogenkonsum. Dennoch, irgendwie beruhigend: das Unheimliche, das der Idylle anhaftet, wird via Beschmutzung durch Artgenossen gebrochen. Manchmal kreiert Ruthner diesen Bruch nicht durch das Inkorporieren von Objekten in die Wiese, sondern indem er sie mit einer weiteren Ebene übermalt.  Comicelemente wie Micky Maus’ Köpfe sind mehreren Generationen sehr bekannt, das manisch anmutende an ihnen erinnert an einen eigentlich gut begonnenen Horror Trip, der das unterschwellig Bedrohliche überdeckt. Man weiß nicht, wohin man sich flüchten soll: in das Überdrehte, Laute, aber Vertraute oder lieber in den stillen, beunruhigenden, fremden Hintergrund. Aus den heute sehr gebräuchlichen Worten in einem der Bilder, sticht eines hervor – Neolith. Ruthner vermutet vielleicht den ausschlaggebenden Wendepunkt menschlicher Evolution, oder aber sieht eine derzeit rückläufige Entwicklung. Wie auch immer, er bewerkstelligt, dass man Malerei mit neuen Augen betrachtet.

Futur 2, Off space launch, Mission, June 2016

Futur2 was founded by Barbara Siegel in Paris and was located at a building that held forty artist’s studios. Moving to Vienna in 2016, the space now is situated in former stables adjacent to an inner courtyard.

The choice of the name is highly indicative of the manifesto: Future 2 as a grammatical term indicates an action that will have been fulfilled at some point in the future. Expressing possibilities respective societal and political developments, Futur2 considers its mission in line with aspirations of the art scene from around the 1960s, a time that saw artists at the peak of an intellectual elite, with everyone considering their input. Artists were regarded as seismographs and signposts all in one, given their immense awareness.

Max Frisch’s dictum that “This is not a time for me-stories” also served as a major reference point as the principles of the association were constituted, suggesting that this space allows for radical thought to be chiseled out, unusual positions to be expressed and ultra new ways to be paved. Futur2 acts as an equipoise to the recently formed art world celeb bubble lost to any significance by presenting carefully selected artists and works bearing relevance to current issues and with potential to shape the future.

The inherent “yes” in Futur2’s approach is directly contradicting the still prevalent postmodern “no” and its cynicism, for to be able to take responsibility make an impact one must dare to state a resounding “yes”.

Besides exhibitions being created during the residency program taking place three to four times a year, small events will be happening such as discussions, readings, dinners and performances.

Cyril Aboucaya & James Lewis, Futur 2, Vienna, Exhibition text, June 2016

This is not a visit to the stables, for the inhabitants are long gone. The relics are freshly made as Cyril Aboucaya has researched, partly imagined and then implemented them but displayed as if to tell the history of the building. If everything was just left there it might or might not have looked like this. It all does fit, which only adds to the disconcertment: even the non-graspable components such as the scent of hey are carefully applied in order to evoke the right associations. Allowing for instant recognition of what it is about, it still is even further from the actual experience than, let’s say, a visit to a museum that features original remnants of a scene. Old remains, when real, often let one sense a strange connection to people that have already passed away, for they have seen this very object and perhaps let their hand run over its surface, it’s akin to tracing those people’s gaze and touch. The tension between it seemingly being charged with history but featuring elements that are recent, contradicts the visual cues of both, the past and the now. The fake antiquities have been copied with modern materials, but he is also sidestepping contemporary baldness associated with certain materials when used for art, such as concrete, by coloring them. The staging of obviously newly made objects as remnants is somewhat reminiscent of properties of a haunted house at an amusement park, due to summoning the presence of deceased living creatures, the horses. Aboucaya emphasizes today’s absence of immediacy generated by the increasing use of technological devices and illustrates the emptiness we face in this void. Further he is either amplifying this or suggesting that one can alleviate this condition, by using simple as well as natural materials. There is moss he collected at a walk in the forest mixed into the paint. Thanks to the humidity in the stables, it will grow.

James Lewis’ work is concerned with failing of functions, especially those of the body. Choosing to paint how the light is breaking at a particular moment through the glass on the door leading to the stables, he was not only forced to move fast, by failing to act as rapid as the fleeting moment passed, Lewis had to finish the paintings at a different studio at a later time, relying merely on his capacity to recall the instant. Knowing that memory changes over time and that this undertaking is bound to fail, the artist is mirroring this by applying a gelatin-like substance often used in scientific experiments named Agar-agar as the very top coat on each painting. This agent allows for the breath of the audience having a direct influence on the ultimate appearance of the paintings, all depending on determinants such as how close the audience is getting to the painting as well as what they have eaten previous to their visit. Finally the surface will feature black mold like spots and will fossilize. From now on, the artist won’t have control over the end result. Parts of the paintings are left blank, other parts hold sketching, as if substituting the recollection and expressing anger about this situation at once.

The sculpture, consisting of bleached twigs and bones, somewhat resembling a fossil ear left to itself, so that it cannot fulfill its function. Our ears, a body part receiving sounds as well as acting as the centre of stability is in this instance futile for it is unattached. The artist is forcing us to discard any demands for usefulness and to be surprised by beauty in details one wouldn’t expect to find it. Lewis is embracing the poetry latent in a miscarried deed, and he prefers what objects enhance in the observant particularly if they are not fulfilling their function. 

Wendy&Jim, Crone Gallery, Berlin, Spring Summer 2017 Collection text, June 2016

Es gibt Länder, in denen jetzt schon “Likes” einen Bürgen bei der Bank ersetzen. Das ist nur einer der realen Effekte, welche Beliebtheit und die Anzahl der Follower in Sozialen Medien ermöglicht.

Es ist ein Beispiel dessen, wie Einfluss vom Screen ins echte Leben überschwappt.

Die extreme Kurzlebigkeit eines Likes und die schnell nachfolgende Bilderflut lassen das vergängliche Spektakel schnell wieder im Nichts verschwinden, außer man sucht die Seite des Posters bewußt noch einmal auf.

Da eben von Spektakel die Rede ist: man kommt beinahe nicht umhin, an Fashion Show Spektakel zu denken. Im besten Fall eine Plattform für den eigenen Auftritt, im schlimmsten Fall ein Kampf um mehr Aufmerksamkeit zwischen Blogger und Blogger oder Blogger und Designer. Als Besucher bemerkt zu werden scheint ebenso wichtig wie die neue Kollektion des Designers.

Das Verhalten der Konsumenten hat sich grundlegend verändert, manchmal scheint ein Like den Kauf zu ersetzen.

Manch einer betrachtet es als sein kuratorisches Projekt, aus den eigenen Präferenzen eine Art Sammlung zu bilden macht es nicht mehr unbedingt nötig, etwas zu erstehen.

Einen großen Einfluss auf die Kollektion haben Bewegungen, die sich durch das Internet ergaben und eine von ihnen geschaffene Persona, die an ihren eigenen Wurzeln rührt: ein Junge, kurz vor seinem Punk-Werden, aber ohne die notwendigen Utensilien, dies auch umzusetzen, so dass er sich aus dem Kleiderschrank seines Vaters oder Großvaters bedient.

Eine Brücke zu ihrem Parfum bauen sie indem sie die Ingredienzien des Duftes auf einen der Stoffe drucken lassen, doch nicht ohne die Vergänglichkeit eines Geruchs als auch eines virtuellen Posts zu unterstreichen: die Abbildungen verstecken nicht, dass sie in Photoshop zugeschnitten wurden, dies wurde nämlich eher ungenau gemacht, so dass man den Hintergrund noch deutlich erkennt.

Ein anderer Stoffdruck weist Hybride aus Schlangen und Frauen auf, die Augen gelöscht, mit einem Glitch im Bild, ein weiteres Merkmal des Computerscreens.

Schließlich zeigt der nächste Stoffdruck nochmal einen Glitch: der verschwommene Druck verwirrt und irritiert. Das Motiv stammt aus einer Subkultursparte die für Störungen berüchtigt ist. Womöglich eine Reflektion auf die abwehrende Haltung der Gesellschaft den Belangen dieser Bewegung gegenüber, während zeitgleich der Kapitalismus seine Wendigkeit nutzt, genau jener Strömung entsprungene Elemente in verdaulicher Form derselben Elite für Profit darzubieten.

Schließlich zeigen Wendy Jim noch ein erstes Resultat einer Kollaboration mit BBUC, für die sie als Art Directors arbeiten. Eine Radsportkollektion mit professionellen und freizeittauglichen Modellen.

Mir ist nicht erlaubt, etwas über die Performance selbst zu verraten, obwohl es mich in den Fingern juckt… Aber ich möchte vorraussagen, dass die Konsolenspiel-inheränten, magischen Anteile und die sofort erkennbaren, einem Sozialen Medium zugehörigen Komponenten die Audienz dazu veranlassen werden, sich strikt gemäß des Kodex des digitalen Zeitalters zu verhalten.

In some countries, a certain amount of social media likes is already replacing the

warrantor at a bank when wanting to obtain a loan. This is one example of the real

effect of virtual popularity as in the amounts of followers we accumulate, the power

that trickles from the screen into our real life. The extreme ephemerality of a like and

the unceasing flood of images let the short-lived spectacle vanish into oblivion, unless

the poster’s page is being deliberately visited afresh.

Speaking of spectacle, one is almost bound to think of what is currently happening at

fashion shows. Becoming platform for the own gig at best, a battle for attention

between bloggers and designers or bloggers and bloggers at worst, the focus is in

any case no longer at the presentation only. Being noticed as a visitor appears to

have become just as important as the show.

It may also be considered a curatorial exercise, by giving approval one can display

preferences, which seems enough; there is no real need to purchase and wear the

attire.

A major input of the collection gained by the internet and a persona they had in mind

for the new works: a boy on the brink of becoming a punk but with no means yet to

fully manifest this, but who is forced to transform the wardrobe essentials of his father

or grandfather according to his needs – a direct reflection on Ruthner’s and

Fankhauser’s story at the advent of their personal sartorial differentiation.

Building a bridge from their fragrance to noted tendencies and underlining the

perishability of both, the virtual presence of a post and that of a smell, Ruthner and

Fankhauser chose the ingredients of their scent for one of the prints. Looking closer,

they too, as many of their works, involve a disruption. The flowers were prepared in

Photoshop, but sloppily, so that the background of the cutouts is still present.

Another print features hybrids of snakes and women, with the eyes being erased, with

a glitch in the image that leaves no doubt about it originating from the screen. Yet

another print melts some sort of glitch with rendering eyes insufficient, this time our

eyes. The blurred print confuses and irritates, stemming from a section of subculture

notorious for disruptions. Perhaps it is a reflection on society’s refusal to acknowledge

their agendas, and capitalism’s flexibility and willingness to absorb some of their

characteristics for profit, throwing digestible elements of this very same movement at

this very same resisting elite.

One other Look shown in this show is the very first peek at a collection created for a

BBUC of Vienna. It consists of professional and recreational attire for cycling and will

be launched beginning of 2017

I am not allowed to reveal the performance at this point, which I am actually burning to

write about openly. But let me predict this: the magic-implying elements hinting at

computer games and the instantly recognizable components of certain social media

features will manipulate the audience to behave exactly according to the digital age’s

codex.

Bjoern Segscheider, Portfolio text, 2016

Everyone wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant.
I pretended to be somebody I wanted to be until finally I became that person. Or he became me.      
Cary Grant

Being the venue for an ever influential entertainment industry, L.A's
culture itself requires its residents to assert and profile themselves with
an illusory, immaculate, successful persona. The way in which tinsel
town was constructed and its modus operandi trickled into the entire
culture of the city. As skillfully as the movie industry has woven and
spread dreams of various natures, they just as easily sold the concept
"from rags to riches" to the receptive audience. The optimism this
message bears has spurred many generations and powerfully lured
people from near and far. Nowhere else is the phrase "Fake it 'till you
make it" more fitting and nowhere else is the social acceptability of
pretense higher. This does not just apply to self promotion at the lower
strata of society, where the virtuosic feigning of importance and success
proved to be a feasible strategy to climb up the ladder, it is also widely
approved in the realms of the established and wealthy, i.e. when tax
reduction is packaged as philantrophy and the resulting applause for the
perceived generosity is audaciously pocketed. Philantrophy deteriorates
to a form of investment, monetary as well as relating to reputation.
Virtue and integrity appear to be of no importance in aquiring status for
this can be achieved and maintained by corrupt means. The audience
seems to clap just as enthusiastically.
Bjoern Segscheider explores the dichotomy between real and mock,
man made constructs such as the monetary system and its effects on
its holders particularly those that inhabit Los Angeles, and how the
practice of the film industry shaped the mind set of surrounding citizens.
He examines connotations between the structure of acting and the
composition of personas and how and why we identify with a figure. It
all flows back to the city of Los Angeles, this evasive, absurd place
soaked with entitlement to instant gratification, and the willingness to
attain it with sheer illusiveness.
Much of the city has been used as a set for film, which further
complicates the distinction between film and reality as well as the
difference between being and seeming. With Batman serving as the
lustrous example and by imagining the perspective of this figure,
Segscheider examines the resemblance of the figure's patterns
regarding its transitions from Alter ego and public persona to the shifts
of our desires and reference points regarding the formation of our
identity through time. There is a shift in what we yearn to become as we
are aging: at young age most of us strive for and admire qualities
represented by Batman the hero, such as integrity, spine and
willingness to stand up for principles even if it breaks the (man made)
law. Later, as we advance to learn about the world, we pursue
characteristics associated with the worldly and publicly known
counterpart of the Alter ego, Bruce Wayne, the successful billionaire
with alluring luster. Differences and common grounds between the
protagonist and L.A.'s population emerge: Wayne strived
for worldly success solely to finance his Alter ego, he actually despised
the selfish mentality of the world he was part of and regarded its
superficial objectives as nonsense. The mind set of the average L.A.
resident on the other hand supports flippant attainments. The gadgets
Batman needed i.e. were custom made for his purposes and probably
expensive, notable is the lack of brands in the movie. This contrasts the
giant focus on labels assisted by celebrities. The purchase and need of
gadgets increases with the own status in order to maintain it it seems.
His impressive mansion covered the so-called Bat cave, in which the
transformation to the hero entity took place and in which the Batmobile
was parked at, it distracted from his noble actions. We can see the
sinister mirror-inverted version of that in examples where dirty actions
are undertaken or a vapid, boring life is put up with in order to acquire
huge manors. Angelenos heavily depend on their cars and spend a fair
amount of time in them even if not caught in gridlocks. The importance
of the car as status indication is the direct opposite of the brandless,
custom made, merely purposeful Bat car.
When corrupt actions are being rewarded, when it does not matter
where the money comes from, and when appearances are
predominantly important, the ontological constitution is being discarded
entirely in favor of the role one chooses to play and of purchases that
scream status. In a city where real locations are being used for fiction,
or even transformed completely - as it has been done with Griffith park
in Los Angeles for the first Batman movie, as well as many other times
at which Los Angeles has been turned into New York with enormous
effort - the own home becomes a simply a backdrop in which the
narcissistic fantasy version can be manifested and the persona one
presents is the replacement for actual being.

Hanna Putz, Ace & Tate Commissions, Amsterdam, Article, May 2016

In myths, oracles usually appear to not mind the possibility of their cryptic messages being misunderstood. They give riddles without specifying the meaning; requested further hints only create more confusion. In literature, an encounter with a sage will involve some playing with the protagonist’s preconceptions and assumptions he relies on, and this will liberate the hero in some way. In any case, the receiver of the message will filter the heard or seen information through his own bias and will actually pick up only parts of it. Hanna Putz assembles single photographs to a chain, like words to a sentence. One can sense that there is a reason for them being positioned in exactly this way, yet the statement of the artist remains undisclosed. The likelihood of disaccord between the observer’s interpretation and her intention is almost welcomed by her, viewing it as a conversation in differing languages.
Each element of those temporary collages stands in dialog with all the other parts the picture consists of at that particular moment. Compiled to one work, they become a demountable unit. The fragments staying unattached and thus being separable again is an important aspect of her work, as she refuses to commit to guiding principles. Any fragment could possibly recur in one of her following assemblages.
Rather than establishing rules she defines obstructions she has to follow, knowing precisely and navigating by what she does not want. This approach mirrors her general view of life as well as i.e. the impact an infinite stream of images has had on all of us. By having access to so many diverse snippets of world views, our own stance is bound to change constantly. This is about the only constancy in today’s world, when all the isms have failed, who is to claim absolutes and universalities? We are also more aware of our own various currents regarding moods, needs and opposing parts of our personality. Hanna Putz takes numerous drifts into account and merges conflictive parts of her photographs.
She manages to incorporate the plain record keeping quality of photography and an approach that is more kindred to a different medium: in the way a painter chooses a palette, Putz selects fragments of her pictures.
When painting lost some of its key duties to photography, it had to reinvent itself, when photography wanted to advance its status and become an art form; it mimicked the characteristics of painting that still belonged to its realm. With the evoking of sentiments being the main goal, photographers intentionally took grainy, blurry photos; they worked on a single motive repeatedly and experimented with poses instead of merely recording a moment.
It is hard to tell which pictures of Putz’ oeuvre are staged and which fall into the category of stumbled across motives as she values and uses both methods, sometimes it is even more difficult to not mistake them for a painting due to their quite granulous and somewhat diffuse aesthetic. All of her pictures have this sublime quality; they are graceful even if the theme would normally summon frost and emptiness. So, while Hanna Putz is skeptical regarding overarching assertions, she tries to capture and embrace multiplicity on her continuous expedition through existence and theory whilst supplying us with ever more questions, demonstrating gently along the way that there is no real need for definite answers. 

Cäcilia Brown, Luxusprobleme, Gabriele Senn Galerie Vienna, Exhibition text, March 2016

How does one write for an artist who’d much rather prefer the text to be non-descriptive and the audience would navigate solely via the displayed works and the ambiguous titles? Regulatory overkill and its undermining is an important constituent of Cäcilia Brown’s body of work, the need to give visitors space for their own conclusions is a natural consequence. The titles can be interpreted ad libitum, ones such as “he is moving in, I am moving out” can evoke associations based on personal experience but also allow for a socially reflexive analysis. Her astute avoidance of art historical references is striking, all despite her use of well-known materials and processes.

Surface design happens during production. In lieu of choosing varnish she burns a sculpture so that sections of it get soot-blackened.

Brown focuses on forces that contrast order, such as vehemence and turbulence. Creating her work requires the use of force as well as chance in order to exercise less control over the end result.

The burning of the sculpture on the grounds of unused, uncultivated land provoked an intervention by local security personnel. How much need for security in this day and age does this absurd, autotelic devotion to order suggest? Guidance and instructions render our communal life smoother. There are the ones we consciously fulfill, and then there are those embodied by public fixtures. Bollards, street signs, litterbins are components of her works; in our everyday life they channel us subtly due to their position alone. At upheavals, it is those very fixtures that are the recipients of released frustration over emerging incertitudes or anger about the regime turning against the citizen, for example in the case of licit eviction for the purpose of gentrification.

The monumental wall that is mounted on poles, presently shown at the Gallery, illustrates our mechanical willingness to obey, as we have to go around it.

Witless obedience is not an option for Cäcilia Brown and while working with her galerists are coerced to determinedly question and combat anthropogenic rules, to obtain special permissions, and to resolve legal ambiguities regarding structural engineering and such.

So in spite of her willingness to stretch the framework art establishments are compelled to move in, she is not entirely free to operate on her own grounds.  She is indeed conscious of her own first world problems that in example surface during preparations for exhibitions, such as choosing which works are to be shown or reprocessing them in order to render them presentable.

A connection to the exhibition title arises: first world problems, respectively lamentation on a high comfort level, is to the common citizen a tool to distinguish himself from his peers, corresponding to his actual self-perception, and to transcend his class. Until this delusion is being taken away from him. Imposed rules are simulating to protect his interests, just as an illusory affiliation to the upper crust is being lent to him. The middle class features the vast bulk of buyers of luxury object rip-offs, produced at a lower price with a loss in quality. Cäcilia Brown offers “copies” as well, photographs of her works placed outside, providing elements from her sphere of interest or the environment mirroring the work itself in some way. We like to think of art as a realm mostly free from conventions, and perhaps that is in fact the case to some extend. Cäcilia Brown rejects order, borders and comfort zone, no matter if brought on by herself or others and disregards it all for the sake of art.  

Wie schreibt man einen Text für eine Künstlerin, die es lieber hätte, er wäre nicht diskriptiv und die Audienz orientiere sich hauptsächlich an den Werken und den mehrdeutigen Titeln? Überreglementierung und das Untergraben jener ist eines der wesentlichen Themen in Cäcilia Brown’s Œuvre, das Bedürfnis dem Betrachter Raum für individuelle Deutung zu lassen die einleuchtende Conclusio. Die Titel kann man ad libitum interpretieren, solche wie “er zieht ein und ich zieh aus” lassen einen aus persönlicher Erfahrung geschöpften Bezug als auch gesellschaftsreflexives Auslegen zu.

Bemerkenswert ist ihr raffiniertes Umgehen von Verweisen innerhalb der Kunstgeschichte, sie vollbringt es tatsächlich, trotz schon vorgekommener Materialien und Arbeitsprozesse Referenzen weitgehend fernzubleiben.

Oberflächenbearbeitung überlässt sie dem Herstellungsvorgang. Beispielsweise verfärben sich Teile einer Skulptur während des Verbrennens und setzen Ruß an, anstatt eine Lackierung zu wählen.

Brown fokussiert auf im Kontrast zur Ordnung stehende Energien wie Heftigkeit und Unruhe, ihre Arbeiten entstehen unter Gewaltanwendung und zum Teil durch Zufall, wenn sie etwa Objekte von einer Brücke wirft um sie zu deformieren ohne zuviel Kontrolle über das Endergebnis auszuüben. Wieviel an Sicherheitsbedürfnis unserer Zeitgenossen suggeriert es, wenn sie beim bereits erwähnten Verbrennen der Skulpturen auf einer von Sicherheitspersonal bewachten Brache absurde, zum Selbstzweck verkommene Ordnungsergebenheit erlebt?

Richtlinien gestalten das Zusammenleben ruck­ und reibungsloser. Es gibt jene, die wir bewußt und aktiv einhalten und solche, vom Stadtinventar verkörperte, die uns täglich subtil lenken. Poller, Straßenschilder, Mistkübel sind Bestandteile ihrer Werke, im Alltag dirigieren sie uns allein schon positionsbedingt. Es ist auch dieses Inventar, welches bei Aufruhr beschädigt wird, wenn die Sicherheit nicht mehr gegeben ist, oder wenn sich die Ordnung etwa in Form von halbunternommener, administrativ geleiteter Vertreibung gegen Bürger richtet. Die sich in der Mitte des ersten Ausstellungsraumes befindende imposante, auf Stangen montierte Wand illustriert unser automatisches Befolgen, wir müssen die Wand umgehen, die einzige andere sich bietende Option wäre mit dem Kopf durch eben jene.

Den eigenen Kopf oder den der Galeristen schont sie nicht. Sie selbst geht in der Schaffensphase an ihre Grenzen, für Kunstbetreibende heißt es eine Entschlossenheit die mit Brown’s Enthusiasmus kongruent ist aufzubringen, als rechtmäßig getarnte, anthropogene Konditionen zu hinterfragen als auch diese anzufechten. Zusätzliche Genehmigungen müssen eingeholt, sich in der Grauzone befindliche Unklarheiten betreffend gesetzlicher Auflagen und bautechnischer Gegebenheiten müssen gelöst werden. Sie ist nicht gänzlich frei vom Rahmen, den der Kunstbetrieb stellt, sie ist sich ihrer eigenen Luxusprobleme, die während der Ausstellungsvorbereitungen aufkommen, bewußt. Es muß bedacht werden, welche Objekte gezeigt werden und jene müssen ausstellbar werden, als Beispiel indem sie sie auf Sockel stellt, welche ja ebenso gewählt werden. Eine Parallele zum Ausstellungstitel kristallisiert sich: Luxusprobleme, das Klagen auf hohem Niveau, ist dem Bürger ein Mittel frei nach seinem eigentlichen Selbstbild seinesgleichen zu überragen, bis zum Zeitpunkt zu dem ihm diese Delusion genommen wird. So wie die auferlegte Ordnung zum Schein seine Interessen vertritt, so wird ihm Scheinzugehörigkeit zur Haute Volèe geliehen. Der Mittelschicht Angehörige sind die größten Abnehmer von Nachahmungen beliebter Luxusobjekte, die weniger aufwendig mit Qualitätsverlust produziert werden und erschwinglicher sind. Cäcilia Brown bietet auch “Kopien” an, Fotografien ihrer Werke, die sie im Außen platziert abgelichtet hat, in denen sich Elemente ihres Interessensgebietes finden oder die unmittelbare Umgebung das Werk selbst in irgendeiner Form widerspiegelt. Gerne denken wir vom Gebiet Kunst als solches, das sich gängigen Ordnungen entzieht, und vielleicht ist das bis zu einer gewissen Grenze tatsächlich so. Ordnung, Grenzen und Bequemlichkeit, ganz gleich ob von innerer oder äußerer Instanz diktiert, lehnt Brown vehement ab und ordnet sie der Kunst unter.

Roshi Porkar, Mission brief, 2016

Everything Roshi Porkar experiences - a type of woman she encountered that sparked her imagination, a lingering conversation she had with a kindred spirit, any input at all - may pour into her collection. There is no preconceived draft she conforms to, the garment rather appears, cristallising in the making. Every creation of hers is telling its very own story, with their tale unfolding step by step as impressions from the recent past emerge. She intuits which elements could belong together, unites them by following her instinct, without bias, agenda or particular intention. Her crisp approach and the lightness she keeps intact are what make her Œuvre unique and striking.

Marina Sula & Olivia Coeln, Low Frequencies, Max Lust Malzgasse, Exhibition text, March 2016

Fascination with today’s discrepancy between the elemental human need for tranquility and  resultant disciplines such as mysticism and the requirements of today’s rush for advancement and aspirations to be in the lead concerning progress with an ever accelerating pace driven by extremely competitious capitalism, is shared by the artists Marina Sula and Olivia Coeln.

Marina Sula plays with various forms of space. By creating work that summons three-dimensionality and by incorporating elements of virtual reality within flat surface mediums, she bewilders and induces disorientation.

Prints of ceilings with lit indoor lighting have been mounted on plexiglass and dibond. They are then installed on a section of the accurately tatami sized benches, on which visitors are allowed to sit on. The other part of the benches are filled with sand, reminding of tranquil Zen gardens with characteristic patterns drewn in. The combination of  artificial and naturally-occuring materials allegorise the cleft of traditional and novel forces, currently profusely evident all over the world.

The prints become a component of furniture, basically leaving their classical territory. This provokes utter confusion, for you can see that you are about to sit on a ceiling. Additionally they have been printed on sheer glass, suggesting continuing space, drawing you into the deep and thus evoking the Angst of falling - but remember, you are sitting on the image of a point which is  usually located above you. So you won’t be blamed if you experience a certain amount of disorientation, dizziness and insecurity.

Olivia Coeln’s practice involves long strolls, that allow for musings over the current environment and architecture with particular attention to natural light and its ability to temporarily highlight, structure and frame objects.During this activity she is frequently reaching a meditative state, similar to what one seeks to experience in a sanctuary. Her photographs have the aura of minimalistic, quiet spaces and feature a certain intangibility. Her work too, like Sula’s, is reaching out into real space by requiring more room than the medium usually does. Mounted on plates, they have been layered on top of each other, connected via a partially maladjusted constant in form of a ray of light. But they still appear to be hegemonic and such a harmonious fit, one suddenly forgets to quesstion all the unexpected appearances of impossible corners this mismatch causes. 

The loop between fiction and reality, flatness of print and three-dimensionality of real space discloses her question about how far photography can go and how it is analog to painting and architecture. 

Marina and Olivia’s work both contain dichotomies.            

They are even opposing each other as Marina’s work revolves around artificial lighting and Olivia’s on natural lighting and show us different perspectives of space while they are transgressing what we assume to be the natural borders of the media they work with.

Marina Sula, Portfolio text, 2016

The grid is far from being semiotically overloaded - it has been considered void of signifiers, a convenient escapist apparatus evading narration and bias, and at some point even the modernist's mighty bastion against meaning. Thus it's compatibility with the space the originals for the prints have been drawn in, spaces Marc Auge calls a non-place. We don't even think of lingering in them, for they are shaped for us to pass: supermarkets, trains, places of transit, etc. - they are all everything but welcoming and comfortable. Usually featuring aggravating lighting, hard seats, bland decor and the like, some of them, such as airports, patronise us heavily by forcing us to follow their rules to the letter. Needless to say that non-places rather try to suppress than invite emotions.

Being at a non-place, many of us use devices such as mobile phones or tablets, as they offer escape, create a border to our surroundings and occupy us at the same time. Using both simultaneously, a tablet with a sketchbook application to create drawings and a mobile phone for conversations at her frequent train rides, the lines of the grids directly correspond to her feelings at that moment, caused by the telephone conversation she had. Drawing grids only, to me, seems to be another imposition echoing the provisos of non-places. 

Reminiscent of automatic drawing, as far as the process is concerned, the result was much less mysterious as we associate with this practice. At its advent, automatic drawing was for the most part an occult practice. These days we dissect everything in order to extend our already much greater knowledge and prefer a more rational approach and hard facts for the most part. Instead of the `soul´ we examine our brains. Instead of being puzzled by our bodily functions we are digging deeper and try to manipulate them. The romantic, esoteric view of hypnosis is replaced by its clinical usefulness, in addition we now know that it is a state we all slip into several times a day. Mirroring sentiments she might not have expressed to interlocutors but which she most certainly consciously experienced, mixed with outer influences such as people passing, being forced to move or adjust ones position, someone distracting her by making noise and numerous other incidents that had an impact on the outcome, all elements become an aspect, employing the fingers as the medium for the outlet, manifesting on the display, while she transforms into an entity somewhere between mechanical movements and trance.

The tablet's sketchbook application is sophisticated enough to react to the pressure of the finger sweeping over the surface, enabling us to sense the intensity, rhythm and tone of the talk. This finesse is also responsible for ever so slight glitches along some lines, creating visual noise if the line has been drawn with a certain amount of force and speed. 

Having produced over a thousand of such drawings, Marina Sula printed a selection on a bigger scale. Each print actually misses one line, always a very clean and straight one, as she cut it out, which becomes visible only after inspecting the print closely. This adds another dimension and depth the very flat medium of print lacks, and which tablets feature. The huge scale of the prints lets us grasp the infinity a tablet display suggests, we can almost reach into the print. This perceived three-dimensionality allows us to determine if lines are located on top or underneath another one. 

Arranging the drawings at a much later point but identifying the conversations and the day they have happened by means of recognising the emotional state depicted, the titles are equivalent to the date they took place. The body of work is something akin to a diary, but one that has to be deciphered in hindsight. Which leads us to the question if this undertaking could possibly be accurate, for memories are not reliable. But perhaps this just applies for specific details, such as words and everything else falling into the realm of the left brain half. Sentiments seem not only to penetrate spaces they are supposed to keep out of, they apparently also have a way of persisting.

Michael Lukas, "Tomorrow never comes", Gerberhaus Fehring, Exhibition text, January 2016

What is left if you take Francis Bacon’s bodies out of the painting? Where are the forces he indirectly depicts through the crushing, withstanding but somewhat obeying bodies? These forces are revealed by the distortion of the flesh that is suffering the pressure, they are shaping the mass they have met by chance. Michael Lukas’ paintings have this eerie quality: forces seem to lurk in them, just waiting for a body to appear. To, by chance, get lost into the space Lukas painted. Lost is the proper term, for the entire construct becomes twisted in Lukas’ hands. Logical principles obviously have been applied, but what is the front... and the back within this utterly confusing space?

His repertoire is quite broad, taking us from Bacon’s emptied, contorted spaces to Mondrianesque squares devoid of their colour to what seem to be the remnants of Andy Warhol’s flowers, as if Warhol’s removal from immediacy has been taken to an extreme. The flowers are layered over a grid, which appears repeatedly in Lukas’ works.

The grid, a form we are surrounded by extensively in our everyday lives, served artists from the modern period up to now as the perfect vehicle into a semiotic and narrative void. Lukas welcomes this blank zone and let’s intuition guide him while the work crystallises.

He often uses found material detected at the buildings he is having his studio at that particular moment in. Currently, in December 2015, he is working in a former office space where he found the carpet, for example, to be fit for a substratum, which he painted on with priming colour he found right there as well. The environment he is working in is always a major influence, he states. Using parts of the carpet series as an installation on the floor at the exhibition, he transports the ghost of this former office located in Vienna.

Applying rabbit-skin glue as foundation, masking sections with duct tape, dusting pigment particles over the surface, using oil paint and primer white as well as crayons makes for an intriguing medley of surprising and original materials. The mix of print, drawing and painting reveals the mechanical elements in Lukas’ approach. In combination with automatism, reminiscent of the techniques employed by Surrealists as well as artists such as Jackson Pollock  – letting us trace Lukas’ spontaneous bodily movements and tune in to his emotional outbursts – his works become a stage buzzing with seeming contradictions he appears to merge effortlessly. Significant is that even those works of his that are rather not as crammed as some still have their entire surface covered, from corner to corner.

Apparently, his ever-changing interests unfold as a journey across modernism and post-modernism, bridging different movements with ease.

                                                                            

Was bleibt, wenn man die Körper Francis Bacons aus dem Bild nimmt? Wo sind die Kräfte, die er durch die zerdrückten, Widerstand leistenden, aber doch irgendwie gefügigen Körper indirekt darstellt? Diese Kräfte werden durch die Verzerrung des diesem Druck unterworfenen Fleisches offengelegt, sie formen die Masse, auf die sie zufällig treffen. Die Gemälde von Michael Lukas haben diese unheimliche Qualität: In ihnen scheinen Kräfte zu lauern, die nur darauf warten, dass ein Körper auftaucht – um sich dann zufällig in dem von ihm gemalten Raum zu verlieren. Verlieren ist das richtige Wort, verdreht sich doch das gesamte Konstrukt unter Lukas’ Händen. Offensichtlich sind logische Prinzipien zur Anwendung gelangt, aber was genau ist in diesem äußerst verwirrenden Raum vorne und hinten?

Die Bandbreite von Lukas’ Repertoire ist groß, spannt sich von Bacons geleerten, verzerrten Räumen über mondrianeske, ihrer Farbe beraubte Felder bis zu sich wie Reste von Andy Warhols Blumen anmutenden Elementen, die den Eindruck vermitteln, dass sie Warhols Absage an Unmittelbares zum Äußersten treiben. Die Blumen liegen über einem Raster, wie er in Lukas’ Arbeiten wiederholt vorkommt.

Der Raster, eine Form, die uns im Alltag weithin umgibt, diente Künstlern von der Moderne bis heute als perfektes Mittel der Erkundung einer semiotischen und narrativen Leere. Lukas begrüßt diese leere Zone und lässt sich durch seine Eingebung leiten, während die Arbeit Form annimmt.

Häufig verwendet er Materialien, die er in den Gebäuden findet, in denen er gerade sein Atelier hat. Zurzeit, im Dezember 2015, arbeitet er in einem ehemaligen Büro, wo er zum Beispiel auf den Teppich stieß, der sich als unterste Schicht für seine Arbeit anbot, die er mit einer ebenfalls dort entdeckten Grundierung bemalte. Die Umgebung, in der Lukas arbeitet, stellt, wie er sagt, einen wichtigen Einfluss dar. Indem er Teile der Teppichserie in der Ausstellung als Bodeninstallation zeigt, übernimmt er den Geist dieses ehemaligen Wiener Büros in seine Arbeit.

Mit Glutinleim als Grundlage, dem Abdecken von Abschnitten mit Klebeband, dem Aufbringen von Pigmentpartikeln auf die Oberfläche sowie der Verwendung von Ölfarben, weißer Grundierung und Buntstiften ergibt sich ein faszinierender Mix überraschender und origineller Materialien. Die Kombination von Druck, Zeichnung und Gemälde macht die mechanischen Elemente von Lukas’ Ansatz sichtbar. In Verbindung mit dem Automatismus, der an die Techniken erinnert, deren sich die Surrealisten und Künstler wie Jackson Pollock bedienten, und uns Lukas’ spontane körperliche Bewegungen verfolgen und auf seine Gefühlsausbrüche einstellen lässt, verwandeln sich seine Arbeiten in eine von scheinbaren Widersprüchen schwirrende Bühne, die er, so wirkt es, mit Leichtigkeit aufhebt. Bemerkenswert ist, dass selbst seine weniger vollgepackten Arbeiten eine von einem Ende zum anderen durchgängig bedeckte Oberfläche aufweisen.

Seine sich stets ändernden Interessen scheinen sich in Form einer Reise durch die Moderne und Postmoderne zu entfalten, welche mühelos Brücken zwischen den verschiedenen künstlerischen Strömungen schlägt.

                                                                             

Curatorial Project Sandra Petrasevic, Room 1.32, Parallel Art Fair Vienna, September 2015

Room 1.32

A constant wave of new objects, i.e. technological devices, causing us to discard our old gadgets, which become outdated in perpetually smaller intervals, leave us with a growing pile of unused trash.
Old objects and devices carry a spooky aura, they may remind of time passing, either by their mere existence or in holding documents of the individual past, such as old photographs. Photographs, radio transmission, film, memories, video and audio recordings, telephone conversations, all are ghosts, for they have happened already, but they still remain to haunt us. 
Looking back at ancient myths and popular media such as film, its history and its language, we were taught that a ghost’s appearance usually occurs when there is either a message to be transmitted, a wrong to be made right or sometimes just out of some inexplicable rage driving the spirit to manifest. These connotations are implanted in us. Rarely someone would be completely impartial to an encounter with a ghost, expecting the phenomenon to comprise some significance, it’s always extraordinary, a memento, the trauma buried deep inside and popping up, the aching fondness we once received or tried to give, the witness of lighter, brighter days, or the contrary - our dark visits to Hades. Sometimes a relic of the past acts just as a mundane interruption of the usual. If one was temporarily forced to use an older version of an object while being used to the new, smoother counterpart, it may happen that annoyance due to the decreased capacity of some sort occurs. This kind of interruptions on the other hand can be hilarious for the onlooker, as the protagonist is trying to go on with their usual routine.
In the early days of radio, radio static was the imperfection that compelled to listen keenly, for the noise in it was often interpreted as a transmitter for voices of the dead glitching over. Back then, it was the novelty of it that was connected to the dead, caused by lack of familiarity. Now it’s its old age which is eerie, reinforced by the fact that it’s not used any longer. The object itself is dead and should be buried and rest there, in a manner of speaking. 
All works presented involve a ghost, the re-emergence of the discarded, be it an outgrown state performed or old devices or materials used, some causing us to smirk, some provoking shivers.


Paul Allsopp, The Enunciator, Video, 2010, 3:05 mn
For this video Paul Allsopp assembled found material into a sequence, which becomes intelligible due to the process.
Here we have found material, processed relentlessly, Youtube videos filmed over and over from a Mac, leaving almost only the noise this procedure effects. 
We cannot really hear, what the dog is howling, we can barely guess that this is a dog in the first place. In addition everyday kerfuffle is flooding the soundscape. We have to listen in and try hard to perceive what is actually going on. 
Owners filmed their dogs, while attempting to teach them to howl in a way that could be interpreted to resemble the words “I love you”. The pets, probably in the pain caused by the physical effort they have to exert in order to do this, unwittingly mock psychological suffering, such as intense longing, while the hollow sounding voice the dog produces reveals the absence of meaning. The video too seems to be in pain, by showing the exhausted possibilities of the equipment used. 
The dog’s owners, insisting on their pets repeating sweet nothings, appear to project their desires into the actual nothingness, despite being mirrored by a creature not understanding these words and distorting them highly. 


Marko Maettam, Love, Video, 2010, 5:32 mn
Courtesy of Temnikova & Kasela Gallery, Tallinn, Estonia
Marko Maettam’s practice revolves around his issue with seemingly having to choose between spending time with his family or fostering his art projects. Addressing this problem in his works, they are often reflecting his feelings of being trapped, while using his family as – at times unaware - protagonists in his videos and drawings. 
Marko Maettam’s video “Love” shows the dissonance between the past and present state of the relationship. He acts as a remnant of distant days, reminding of promises made to each other, which at the moment the video has been made have been given up long ago, rendering his statements about the initial awe they have had for each other useless. As feelings have settled but also dullened, the words fade as there are, if not more important, then more urgent things to attend. The action becomes a nuisance, interrupting the process of everyday life. His wife tries to push him away, accomplish an everyday task and does not feel flattered by the shower of attention given her at all. Still, he relentlessly continues to embody a moment his wife doesn’t particularly care to recall at that time. It all becomes even more humorous as the kids, evidence of shared time passed, appear, obviously knowing that the moment is being captured. 


Dejan Dukic, Storage paintings, wood, acrylic, fluid pigment and oil on canvas, 2012
How to surpass the limitations a canvas stipulates and overcome the historically given assumptions about its application are the cardinal concerns of Dejan Dukic’s art practice. 
By declining to succumb to the already provided, common purpose, in order to escape the tautologous, he is using elements of the physical composition of the image carrier itself to chisel out a novel approach to painting. The inherent alternatives discovered in the process allow for a unique visual vocabulary to crystallise. 


Helene van Duijne, Remote Viewing, Print and acrylic, Vienna, 2010
Helene van Duijne’s print depicts a still from a Youtube video, supposedly showing a ghost appearance caught on camera, and the Youtube audience’s response to it, which she partly sloppily retouched. In the upper right corner we can see the manipulated date of the discovery of the image, a sequence of binary numbers, on which all programming language is based, referring to the Internet as medium itself and revealing connotations to the realm of spiritism and the yes/no questions commonly used in séances. 
With newer forums such as Instagram gaining more momentum and followers, Youtube is becoming uncared for to some degree, while remaining active. 
The print oscillates between the portrayal of a ghost viewing displayed on Youtube, a séance and our interaction with unseizable interlocutors across the globe, for they all demand a will to believe and are triggered by our desire to associate with an asomatous collective.

Rade Petrasevic, Bureau Weltausstellung Vienna, Exhibition text, October 2015

In painting the imagined interiors of a collector’s living environment, for many collectors keep secret which artworks they have acquired, forcing the intrigued like journalists, art dealers, fellow collectors and other interested parties to speculate, Rade Petrasevic too becomes some kind of stalker.

Who is the rightful owner of a coveted artwork? There is a twofold belonging and the simultaneous pull of these two currents - one determined by economic power, the other one by its ideological value to an entire generation and shared interest - is played out in the collector’s habitat. The commodity, devoted and relevant to everyone, though inaccessible to most, becomes fetish.

Rade Petrasevic ushers us into a very peculiar realm here: the serious collector does not simply express his taste in choosing his interior and artworks. As his haven is partially private, partially public, the collection is providing personal pleasure as well as intended to be shown to a selected audience. We might call it a Salon.

Rade Petrasevic’s prying is the exact opposite of what Édouard Vuillard’s paintings were about: the domestic, very personal space of the back then newly established dominant middle class, portraying one of its most important innovations – privacy. Vuillard’s sceneries are populated, overflowing with a familiarity between the depicted and shown in the typically bourgeois arrangement that repulsed Walter Benjamin so much.  Rade Petrasevic did not include the owner of the fictitious home, and how fitting, as the collector’s dwelling is distinct from its possessor: it is bigger than him, so to speak.

Casting thinly spread oil on canvas, he appears to have made the paintings with marker pen instead. Striking, clashing colours applied with frantic brush strokes reinforce the feeling that one is standing before a vast drawing, engulfing the beholder immediately. The magnetic allure might have to do something with making us feel much smaller than we are, as drawings usually come in a different size. Compelling the eye to move incessantly between the deftly placed botches of colour appearing seemingly random all over the painting and covering disruptively the already furious background, these still lifes are anything but still.