Many years from now, those of us who survive ecological collapse and the technocratic reformation of the global economy will remember Pierre Huyghe.
Max Neumann is a literary painter, by which I mean he is preoccupied with clarifying the same “secret image of reality” that possesses the writer and the state collaborator.
The traditions of shan shui painting hardly needed to die for Shen Fan to advance—they are the crux of his abstraction, too.
Talking with Seth Price can feel like circumscribing an amoeba. One is aware of protean boundaries, but also a rigid cell wall where certain issues attempt to broach.
There can never be a history of the internet because the internet is atemporal—like culture or consciousness, it either exists or it does not.
Nathlie Provosty’s paintings contain within them a kind of totality. You want to reach into them but hesitate—not because it’s forbidden, but for the same reason you pause before a door you knew to be closed but now stands before you open.
Despots curb the written word because they fear its expressive power. They haven’t learned that what they should fear is not written language but, instead, the very impulse to write. It is more prevailing than literature, capable of surviving where art cannot.