Sebastian Black
18 Apr - 01 Jun 2013
© Sebastian Black
Untitled (African Violet), 2013
Oil on canvas
51 x 66 cm, 20 x 26 in,SBLA003,
courtesy of the artist and C L E A R I N G, New York, Brussels
Untitled (African Violet), 2013
Oil on canvas
51 x 66 cm, 20 x 26 in,SBLA003,
courtesy of the artist and C L E A R I N G, New York, Brussels
SEBASTIAN BLACK
Ge-Stilted At The Gestalt-Ar
18 April - 1 June 2013
A few weeks ago I was invited to dinner at the house of a prominent collector. Her collection appeared to consist primarily of immaterial works: time based things, happenings, performances... Essentially she owned a table covered with slips of paper that said things like “So and so leaned a stick against a wall in Basel,1973.” It was a pretty great collection in its paradoxical impermanence, and insofar as a window left ajar might blow it all away.
After dinner I stepped into her backyard to have a smoke. Before me stood a prelapsarian lemon grove filled with mystical talismans and stone figurines whose features were swollen and pungent. It was a kind of fruit punch whose overripe ingredients swam in a bowl of their own long forgotten functions. Awed, or at least massaged, I dropped my lighter, and as I bent down to retrieve it I knocked over what I guess was some sort of fertility deity.
I considered it as it lay there, sideways on the soft grass, and watched as the language adjusted itself to suit its object’s new orientation more snuggly. A curve slipped into the present participle, a chubby roll gerund-ified. Everything became very peaceful and kitschy, like a minor dutch landscape painting. Very cool, cool, cool to see firsthand how the singular can be nudged into the multiple.
Sebastian Black
2013
Ge-Stilted At The Gestalt-Ar
18 April - 1 June 2013
A few weeks ago I was invited to dinner at the house of a prominent collector. Her collection appeared to consist primarily of immaterial works: time based things, happenings, performances... Essentially she owned a table covered with slips of paper that said things like “So and so leaned a stick against a wall in Basel,1973.” It was a pretty great collection in its paradoxical impermanence, and insofar as a window left ajar might blow it all away.
After dinner I stepped into her backyard to have a smoke. Before me stood a prelapsarian lemon grove filled with mystical talismans and stone figurines whose features were swollen and pungent. It was a kind of fruit punch whose overripe ingredients swam in a bowl of their own long forgotten functions. Awed, or at least massaged, I dropped my lighter, and as I bent down to retrieve it I knocked over what I guess was some sort of fertility deity.
I considered it as it lay there, sideways on the soft grass, and watched as the language adjusted itself to suit its object’s new orientation more snuggly. A curve slipped into the present participle, a chubby roll gerund-ified. Everything became very peaceful and kitschy, like a minor dutch landscape painting. Very cool, cool, cool to see firsthand how the singular can be nudged into the multiple.
Sebastian Black
2013