Abstract Critical

Albert Oehlen at The Zabludowicz Collection

Written by Dan Coombs

Albert Oehlen, Painting from the Zabludowicz Collection: Part I, Installation View, with Albert Oehlen, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, Photo: Tim Bowditch

Albert Oehlen, Painting from the Zabludowicz Collection: Part I, Installation View, with Albert Oehlen, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, Photo: Tim Bowditch

Immersed in image, video, the world wide web and other spectacular media, us Westerners live in a bubble forecast in Guy Debord’s The Society of the Spectacle. Debord predicted a society built on total commodification, where being is replaced by having, and appearance usurps reality. It’s a disturbing thought that capitalist logic seems to evolve of its own accord, impersonally. One might ask – where is the self in all this? According to the philosophy of Deleuze and Guattari, for example, the self has lost its ground, its hegemony. The self has become more a fragmented collage than a coherent unity, pulled in so many directions simultaneously by the spectacular forces that coerce, manipulate and seduce us.

Art at least still provides us with the fiction of romantic heroes and Albert Oehlen (b.1954) seems to want to place himself in this mileu; in his paintings, Oehlen just cannot resist the desire to “stick it to The Man”. A German expressionist, his work comes out of this twentieth century tradition of creating paintings completely intuitively. The raw intense energy of gesture acts as an umbilical cord back to the self. Selfhood and expressionism go together, yet unusual privileges accorded to the self can also become self-indulgent, mythologising and pompous. Much recent contemporary art has, in contrast, been an art of ideas, but the notion that painting and sculpture could be a vehicle for  emotion and feeling, transmitted directly to the viewer,  obviously remains a dream of many artists. Its difficult though to muster a subjectivity that can stand its ground against the overwhelming forces of the media spectacle. The self no longer seems large enough , and is merely one point in a network of connections. So the lyric poet can only feel like a microbe in the belly of a vast computerised whale.

Albert Oehlen, Painting from the Zabludowicz Collection: Part I, Installation View, Albert Oehlen, Untitled (1982), Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, Photo: Tim Bowditch

Albert Oehlen, Painting from the Zabludowicz Collection: Part I, Installation View, Albert Oehlen, Untitled (1982), Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, Photo: Tim Bowditch

This is the dilemma – how can we be heard? – that faced musicians such as Kurt Cobain or John Lydon aka Johnny Rotten. Oehlen in comparison is more like David Bowie. He manages to subsume that desperate urgency to express within a flaneur-like detachment. A sense that he never knows what he will find around the next corner, a kind of curious wonder, seems to drive the paintings as much as a need to cathartically release psychic energy. There is a sense that Oehlen believes in painting and wants to make a good painting, as is evidenced by the five very contrasting paintings in this exhibition of works owned by the Zabludowicz Collection. Some of the formal devices and juxtapositions are piss-elegant, beautiful even. In other instances the paintings are as ugly as the inside of a prison. An early work Untitled, 1982 (oil, lacquer and mirror on canvas), depicts exactly that; a prison yard, or at least an imprisoning edifice, painted with a crude, lumpen relish. Into its surface are inserted crazily misaligned bathroom mirrors, which reflect back the viewer’s own persona within the imprisoning environment of the painting. The self does return, but as a passive reflection. The painting is a Kafkaesque trap, using the medium of painting to imprison the viewer. 

In the early eighties, Oehlen worked alongside a fellow-traveller in art, Martin Kippenberger. In the flesh, Kippenberger’s paintings have an awkward yet totally knowing, original touch that seemed perverse while he was alive but now is seen as radically original, a fusion of expressionism and graphic collage. Surely nobody who has sat through a job interview or interrogation by authority can resist the wild anarchy of his last great installation The Happy End of Franz Kafka’s America (1994), made of customised office furniture and crazy sculptural interventions, installed on Astroturf. However Kippenberger’s sense of the world’s corruption, extended to himself, and as a result, his own art, and life, became wildly self destructive. Oehlen, in comparison, seems to sustain his practice through a belief in painting’s formal possibilities. He is more willing to get lost in colour, shape and line. The more recent work is intense and compelling. Yet Oehlen never lets go of the tension that exists between an idea of painting as an aesthetic act, and the idea of painting as an act with political implications. A political question lurks inside his work. He seems to be asking – what sort of agency do I have in the world? Am I creating something here, or am I just reconfiguring what already exists? Am I  rebelling or am I in fact being acquiescent? There’s also a utopian impulse – to make failure into virtue, to redeem failure, awkwardness and inarticulacy by making them articulate.

Albert Oehlen, No.9, 2007, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, the artist and Thomas Dane Associates, London

Albert Oehlen, No.9, 2007, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, the artist and Thomas Dane Associates, London

Recently Oehlen made an impressive exhibition at Gagosian on Madison Avenue of paintings that consisted of beautifully delicate, effervescent veils of paint floating upon the over-sized graphics of German billboard advertising. Since the late Eighties he’s used printed grounds, from advertising, the internet  or computer-graphic doodles, so as to see his own gestures against spectacularised equivalents. He’s even made giant collages of uncanny found images,  combining the medium of collage with that of painting. Collage as a form grew within modernism through Picasso, Schwitters, Rauschenberg and Polke but was often repressed through a notion of minimal purity and truth to materials. In Oehlen, collage seems like an inevitability, the true condition of art in a Postmodern age.

Albert Oehlen, Painting from the Zabludowicz Collection: Part I, Installation View, with Albert Oehlen, Untitled (9 1/2 weeks), 1995 and Nr9, 2007, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, Photo: Tim Bowditch

Albert Oehlen, Painting from the Zabludowicz Collection: Part I, Installation View, with Albert Oehlen, Untitled (9 1/2 weeks), 1995 and Nr9, 2007, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, Photo: Tim Bowditch

So the various logocentricities of Modernism, whether it be self , serendipity or the sublime, collapse into a sea of collage. Meanings, hierarchies, notions of taste are all levelled; what we are left with is intensely empty. To emphasise this, Oehlen has chosen to project the Adrian Lyne film Nine and a Half Weeks (1986) over his painting Nr.9 (2007) for one hour every day. This erotic thriller is pure escapist trash , the eighties version of Fifty Shades of Grey. It concerns a passionate, though short-lived, affair between an art dealer (played by Kim Basinger), and an investment banker (played by Mickey Rourke). It points to the convergence of art with investment banking, and in projecting it over his painting Oehlen is admitting culpability and involvement in this world of  luxury and fantasy, a world that to the average viewer is both familiar and alien at the same time.

Albert Oehlen, Deathoknocko, 2001, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, the artist and Luhring Augustine, New York, USA

Albert Oehlen, Deathoknocko, 2001, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, the artist and Luhring Augustine, New York, USA

Success has inevitably changed Oehlen but one still senses a powerful energy and urgency in what he does. Unlike the more figurative work of his twenties, the work of the nineties and noughties allows for reverie and contemplation as well as vertiginous nausea. Deathoknocko (2001, inkjet print and oil on canvas) and Evilution 1 (2002, oil on canvas) are electrifying marvels that set the head spinning faster than even the most jarring Richter abstraction. What he achieves in these paintings is the paradox of a work of art that is both aesthetic and critical simultaneously. As we look at them, the paradoxes and contradictions of our own, and the work’s, culpability in the creation of a spectacular fiction pile up – it becomes  impossible to extract oneself and look at the work with any distance. The only place to go is to get drawn in to their swarming surface world.

Albert Oehlen, Evilution, 2002, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, the artist and Thomas Dane Associates, London

Albert Oehlen, Evilution, 2002, Courtesy Zabludowicz Collection, the artist and Thomas Dane Associates, London

The paintings are surprisingly sensual. Out of trash elements, and using paint to break down the hardened up edges of of graphic advertising, Oehlen achieves a lyricism that is the complete opposite of what one might expect to find – deeply pleasurable, intimate even. He also can poke the viewer in the eye, and there are enough moments of jagged juxtaposition and poison for such a sensuality to feel realistic rather than escapist. For Oehlen the virtual landscape is a bit like Rousseau’s jungle, an unknown space that entices with its lure of erotic pleasure but also contains a threat of danger. Oehlen’s work reminds one that the world of media proliferates because it offers so many possibilities for pleasure. He undercuts any deluded romanticism  with the inclusion of funky imagery and dumb corporate logos. He can’t resist the irony of imagistic symbols well past their sell-by date. Everywhere he confronts us with contradiction; formal achievement is mitigated by a casual arbitrariness,  freedom is circumscribed and trapped. The colours sing but its difficult to imagine the musical equivalent of these paintings; they conflate so many genres together. Oehlen’s paintings plunge the viewer into the maelstrom that is Postmodern culture. They are paintings without a subject, whose peripheries are everywhere and whose centre is nowhere.

  1. John Holland said…

    And by the way, Oehlen doesn’t at all work ‘outside the current conceptual framework’, hence his popularity amongst global curator types. (See Provisional Painting.)
    Do keep up, Alan.

    • Alan Gouk said…

      Irony is no excuse for poor judgement and touting phoney polarities. If you have to call on the approbation of global curator types in support of your appraisal of Oehlen, that puts you in a curious position as a would-be critic, would it not? And which conceptual framework are we talking about? Is it the one stemming from Jasper John’s, or the one you said you didn’t agree with not so long ago? The computer has gone back to London now, so I’m out. Bye!

      • John Holland said…

        Well, since you just brought up the idea of the conceptual framework- outside of which you claim Oehlen is working- I would have hoped you yourself had some idea which one you thought you were talking about. Clearly not.

        And I wonder why you would think that mentioning that Oehlen is liked by fashionable curators (and is therefore unlikely to be working outside their frames of reference) is ‘calling upon their approbation in support of my own appraisal’?

        The weird thing is that I don’t think we really disagree on things as much as you like to think, but you seem to have got into a bit of a confused tizz about things. Probably best that we both shut up- it’s pretty unedifying.

  2. John Holland said…

    Alan- whilst I now realize I made a mistake in assuming that everyone had a rough idea of the uses of irony, it would be nice if, when misusing my words, you could try at least to get them right. Cheers.

  3. Alan Gouk said…

    PS. It’s not a different debate or different discourse. It’s the same debate, one carried out with clarity and authority, the other a mishmash of incoherence signifying nothing. The correct comparison is with Alan Davie,s pictures of the early 60.s shown at the Thomas Dane Gallery a few years ago.

  4. Alan Gouk said…

    Oehlen’s Evilution ( presumably a nod to the silly word-games of Derrida ) appears to operate entirely outside the “dominant conceptual framework ” allegedly initiated by Jasper Johns’ “final literalisation of the picture surface ” (and why not ?) , but unfortunately it consists of a compendium of graphic tricks and illusionistic devices , in which oh so knowing gestures of contrived spontaneity are teamed up with , superimposed on all manner of indicators of spatial disjunction. The lurid yellow “ground” falls away, sliced apart by the criss-crossing of masking-taped bands, looking through to other kinds of space, and so on and so on. Utter directness this is certainly not ; multi-technique laborious contrivance ( like that of Richter, Polke etc. ) to what end ? – clever stuff. Yes Sam, it makes one yearn for ” the sort of painting represented at the Poussin Gallery.”

  5. Dan Coombs said…

    O’BRIEN: What made you want to go into abstract painting?

    OEHLEN: It was an old dream. I had this idea for years. I was carrying it with me. [laughs] In a way it was because I thought that art history went from figurative to abstract . . . And I should do the same. I should have the same development in my life as art history.

    O’BRIEN: And then you end up as an installation artist? [laughs]

    OEHLEN: No.

    From Interview Magazine

    • Robin Greenwood said…

      Come on Dan, don’t be so enigmatic (like Oehlen)! Just say what you mean. I don’t do riddles.

      [laughs]

      • John Holland said…

        Robin-

        You are indeed involved in ‘different debates’.
        From what I’ve read about P(p?)rovisional painting (I’ve done it so you don’t have to), the critical consensus is that a lot of this work is deliberately inept or incomplete; one critic, who was a fan, wrote that one might reasonably think De Keyser’s paintings were the work of an unskilled amateur. This was the point, and the intention.
        Whatever the conceptual reasons for this stance, it stands to reason that calling such a work ‘inept’ is not, in itself, a meaningful criticism, any more than calling Monet’s work ‘impressionistic’.
        Of course, it goes without saying that you could call the stance itself lazy, idiotic, weak or fundamentally dishonest, but that’s another matter.

      • Robin Greenwood said…

        Gets tricky, don’t it? because all those derogatory terms and more were once applied to Cezanne by eminent artists and critics. Perhaps we’re missing something.

        [laughs]

      • John Bunker said…

        Or perhaps we’re mything something….. ( sorry for stealing your joke….)
        Surely this is why a social and historically based understanding of the cultural upheavals of the late 19th and early 20th century are vital to fathom or demythologise an artist like Cezanne and now, here in the21st century, one like Oehlen.

  6. Robin Greenwood said…

    Dan,
    If Ayres and Oehlen are engaged in different debates, and are unrelated as experiences, as you (and I think Sam) are suggesting, then there is no way to compare one to the other. Our debate breaks down thus into contextualisation and relativist theory, and different subjective kinds of ‘interesting’. Any serious discourse, any serious kind of striving for something more than what we are used to in abstract art, ends at that point. But we are not in this thing to be connoisseurs, flaunting our likes and dislikes, showing off our knowledge and sensitivity to other artists’ proclivities; we are in this thing up to our elbows, fighting for our artistic lives, trying to find out how our own abstract art can stand up, get better, and maybe even challenge the best works from the past. The ‘tool’ of comparison, blunt though it maybe (unless in the hands of a very good critic or writer – see Gouk’s ‘Manet’ for a whole host of comparisons), is one of the most powerful means at our disposal. It is certainly, for me, more incisive than the generalised flapping around that goes on in articles such as this, where all sorts of ‘interesting’ things are cited, or get associated with the art by suggestion, but the work is not interrogated in any meaningful way.

    I want to think (perhaps delusionally? Mythically?) that everything that makes some kind of attempt to be visual art can and should be compared (in a kind of rolling debate with oneself and others), and contributes to one and the same discourse (though I’m certainly not saying it’s easy or pat to make those comparisons, nor do I mitigate the differences between artists – rather, I celebrate them). I want to feel (perhaps delusionally) that me and Ayres and Oehlen are in the same pot as Giotto, Durer, Turner, Monet, not least because I aspire to be comparable in some way (even more delusionally?) to what they have done. I certainly feel a powerful connection to all other artists who are in that pot with me, past and present (even those who made the stuff in ‘Ice-Age’), who are or were looking for ways to make their art ‘truly visual’ (I refuse to be abashed at using that phrase). As I mentioned elsewhere, I recently saw a painting by Cezanne that left me elated for two days and was as relevant to what I think and do as anything I’ve ever encountered – no ifs or buts or contextualising or historicising; it was real ‘here and now’, and I felt a strong and direct criticism of my own work directly from it. I didn’t feel I had to change gear to ‘get’ it.

    Are you suggesting I have to change my thinking in order to ‘get’ the Oehlen?

    My dissatisfaction with much of what has gone on in abstract art to date stems from a direct comparison with many things in art history. Equally, my dissatisfaction with my own work stems from this too, along with a desire to make it comparably better than what went before. If you don’t think that we can make such comparisons (both individually and collectively) because of different contexts or intentions; or even compare Ayres with Oehlen, who seem to me rather close; and if we regard everything as equal but different; then we are probably stuck forever in a repetition of half-baked tediousness (see Provisional Painting for ongoing proof – they are a group of abstract painters who dare not or care not to compare what they are doing with anything else. They are not the only ones, but they are a clear example).

    The big question, I think, for abcrit is how to get beyond the point in these discussions where the arguments are polarised and the debate fizzles out. And we seem to go over the same things superficially again and again. Probably my fault.

    • Robert Linsley said…

      That all makes perfect sense. Your goals are admirable and any comparison is possible. But if Ayres and Oehlen are close in some way, and they probably are, then what about this statement from the article:

      “Yet Oehlen never lets go of the tension that exists between an idea of painting as an aesthetic act, and the idea of painting as an act with political implications. A political question lurks inside his work.”

      I remember when it was possible to draw this kind of distinction, but I’m not sure if it still is. In other words, two works may be formally pretty much the same but have very different feel and implications. I love that possibility and the fact that we can make ever finer distinctions between works on the basis of something not necessarily visible but sensed, but I’m not sure that today Oehlen’s political stance comes through or that there is any significant difference between him and Ayres, or whoever you like.

    • Dan Coombs said…

      Sam is right, “debate” is a terrible word in this context , “experience” much better.

      There’s a kind of violence in Oehlen, a sense of the self being under threat,( hence references to Kafka) and it is harder to distinguish between creation and destruction. He’s more willing to leave the painting hanging , to flirt with nihilism. Ayres is more positivistic.

      I don’t know what it would mean to say something is “purely visual” Even with Ayres, the paintings seem as much about touch . Obviously attempting an understanding of art involves extension or changing of thinking- that’s the whole point isn’t it?

      I should also mention that the change in Oehlen’s work from the eighties to the nineties and noughties might have a lot to do with the Berlin Wall coming down.

      • Terry Ryall said…

        I think ‘purely visual’ would be something that is just optical, a sensation without purpose-John Holland has flagged this up in one of his posts. ‘Truly visual’, as I understand it means that a work relies on what it looks like to convey whatever it might have in terms of connectivity with a viewer. The factors, which could be many and varied, that an artist brings to bear on the making of any given piece of work are (in a literal sense) rendered irrelevant, their power having been transferred and transformed into a new scenario ie. a painting, sculpture or any other visual medium, which has its own life evidenced by what it presents visually. I’m not suggesting that artists’ ideas and drives, intentions even are without interest to other makers or writers and historians, just that they are not (or should not be) necessary to be able to appreciate what is in front of us and visually accessible.

    • Sam said…

      Comparison is not a knock-out competition (Strictly Come Painting?). Nor should it bring everything all into one pot. Looking at Oehlen and Ayres (who I agree are not all that far apart) might accentuate the differences, without necessarily leading to dismissing one or the other: it might show how they are not reducible to one another. This is not the same as relativism (which is just as idealist, and implausible, as ‘all in one pot’). I don’t think what I am saying prevents the Oehlen being interrogated or criticised formally.

      Provisional Painting is a bit of a strawman and I increasingly think not worth bothering with.

      I’m not suggesting you change your thinking: you obviously have a way of thinking and working that is pretty fully formed. I agree with Robert that is an admirable position. I think abstract painting and sculpture would be greatly helped by more artists having such developed positions (though obviously an articulate position does not necessarily lead to good art); however I cannot bring myself to think that all artists need to have the same position, which is what you seem to strongly imply.

      • Sam said…

        it should say ‘not completely reducible’ to one another

      • Robin Greenwood said…

        I agree with pretty much all of that. Comparison is more subtle than a knock-out competition, and is useful in highlighting the positives of different artists. What I object to is when I’m told that I can’t make a judgement about, say, Oehlen, without I apply different criteria and take on board all sorts of extraneous factors (like the fall of the Berlin Wall!!!).

        So, how many pots are there? One for each artist?

      • Robin Greenwood said…

        By the way, Sam, didn’t you knock out Stubbs just now.

      • Robert Linsley said…

        I’m not as familiar with Robin’s work as I perhaps should be, but judging from what he says I get the impression that his position is not worked out once and for all, but that he aspires to something, also an admirable stance. As for criteria – there are infinitely many possible. One may not like that, but the world will produce them anyway.

      • Terry Ryall said…

        Sam,I know very little about provisional painting and consequently whether its worth bothering with or not but in a sense such labelling (and the inevitable generalisations that accompany it) although to a degree convenient is not without its dangers. As recently as 2011 Albert Oehlen’s work was included in a show of ‘Provisional Painting’ at The Modern Art Gallery, London. Whether he or anybody else is a provisional or any other sort of painter it should be possible to apply the same criteria to their work as to that of Gillian Ayres or whoever else one might care to name. This doesn’t seem to me to be exclusive or imply that all artists should either come from or arrive at the same position as each other. Aside from being impossible that would be very boring indeed for all of us. Truly visual, yes, beyond that?

  7. Robin Greenwood said…

    How about comparing Evilution to Muster by Gillian Ayres? Which is the most inventive? Which is the most coherent? Which is the most exciting? I’d pick Muster on all three counts. I have a sneaking feeling that Evilution is actually quite conventional – it’s certainly full of imagery, organised (if one can use that term about this painting) along a conventional graphic layout. It fails to convince as a (pictorial) space. Though it does look like his best one. Hmmm…

    • Dan Coombs said…

      Ayres and Oehlen are just engaged in different debates Robin

      • John Bunker said…

        Yes, but which artist’s ‘debate’ is more relevant to the wider world at this point in history?

      • Sam Cornish said…

        Would a more interesting way of framing the discussion to say that they are involved in different types of experience? I think this avoids the suggestion of theory and intent that might be contained in ‘debate’, and also the hint of complacency, which John B’s response to Dan seems to pick up on. I mean experience to include both the type of experience that a formal / wordless (as far as that is possible) engagement with the paintings brings; and the experience of the world which their images bring forth (this is I hope deeper than a simple or direct reference). It also enables me to get a grip on both without reducing to an either / or, this is better; this is worse.

    • Robin Greenwood said…

      No contest, though the Pollock is no masterpiece.

      • Sam said…

        Unstablisied, disturbing and comprised (in all sorts of ways) though it is, I still think Evilution has a lot going for it. The stripe across the middle and the way all this gestural painting hangs off it for example. Go and see it!

      • Robin Greenwood said…

        It does have a lot going for it, in a blindly optimistic kind of way. Just as Richter in the eighties threw a lot of new stuff in the pot, and challenged the tasteful hegemony of Greenbergian aesthetics, so Oehlen and his ilk seem at first glance to break new ground. I’m all for it – except that it doesn’t go far enough and it doesn’t work. As you admit, it is compromised; in my opinion, hopelessly compromised by a lack of vision and an inability to bring unity to the conflicting elements. There is no way around this. Both Richter and Oehlen (and many others) try to circumvent the business of taking complete responsibility for every last decision in the work (another aspiration/myth?), often abrogating those decisions altogether by making false rules about process or some other conceptualisation. In the end, all such rules must be abandoned for the sake of the working unity of the painting. OK, good, throw more stuff in the pot to start, to get away from cliché, but that is just the beginning; you have to go further. Where and what is Oehlen’s vision? A post-modern mish-mash is still a mish-mash.

      • Robert Linsley said…

        Unity is a good thing, but not necessarily an overriding criterion. The fact that any piece of visual art has a boundary means that unity is a given, so disunity or whatever one wants to call it – maybe openness – is the aspiration, unity can hardly be avoided. You (Robin) want a particular kind of unity. I suspect it’s what I call organic unity, which I also like. But all kinds of unity become oppressive and dull eventually, so in modern art the drive is always to break open the closed and unified work. Best, though possibly an as yet unrecognized period style, is unity on the brink of collapse, something on the edge of organization and chaos – to bring all the stuff that just is what it is into the organized work without arting it up and still have the feeling of a pattern. What you (plural) are seeing in Oehlen is also in Stella, Laura Owens, Ayres, Rae, lots of others, some good some not so much. But I like the way that Sam fixed on one part of one particular Oehlen – his response seems to be more specific and less theory.

      • Robin Greenwood said…

        Robert,
        I can’t agree with that – that you have unity regardless, just by virtue of the boundaries of the canvas. That’s just literal. In any case, even by your criteria, what then are the boundaries for abstract sculpture? What unifies that?

      • Robert Linsley said…

        Literal unity is unity, literally. You are looking for a sense that a piece has been worked through to a feeling of balance or completeness or resolution, but that’s just one restricted concept of unity. That there can be disruption, breaks, shocks, etc. within the frame is the great fiction of modern art. Art aspires to disunity, but as long as it stays in the frame that can only be fiction, and so we have installation art, real congeries of unrelated stuff placed in no necessary relation. So how tedious and disappointing to find out that there is yet another larger “frame” that brings all the parts together, being some curatorial concept or political context. That’s a problem for sculpture, although not an answer to your question.

        I want my works to hang together. I also want them to feel open and unconstrained. I also want them to jump out of their boundaries. Impossible but it can be done.

      • Robin Greenwood said…

        When you are not second-guessing what I think, you’re presenting me with riddles. If within the bigger frame of ‘the world’ everything unrelated is unified, then we have no meaningful discourse.

      • Robert Linsley said…

        Sorry, won’t second guess anymore. Was extrapolating from your other comments.

  8. Sam Cornish said…

    This maybe an unfair comparison but Evilution knocks any of the Stubb paintings at CASS gallery sideways

  9. Sam said…

    For me Evilution was a startling painting. The prison one was no good, nor was the one in the corner in the install shot. I couldn’t see the Nr.9 because of the film; Deathoknocko is very much like a bad, late Stella I saw in Wolfsburg.

  10. John Bunker said…

    Fabulous piece of writing! Many thanks!