A rather strange exhibition in this avant-garde gallery. I almost got provoked by not getting provoked at all. Some styropore pieces put in a corner, some loud humming, some bronze logs laying around, writing on the wall. This is like the archetype of what layman think about as contemporary art. Is is irony? Is it honest? Is this really the edge of contemporary contemporary art? But at least it made me think, didn't it?
The only pieces that left an impression were the "photographs" by Walead Beshty. Photographic paper, crushed and folded, then developed, to reveal really interesting and beautiful pattern in shades of blue.
Walead Beshty - cyanotypes
Bettina Buck - Fallen
Bettina Buck - pole
Hannah Rickards - TextBettina Buck - Mountain of Madness
