note_14 Go> Vincent Fecteau & Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster in Ldn -are these V-M? No!

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Two very nicely concentrated shows opened Thu 13 April at the same postal address; Corvi-Mora and Greengrassi in Kennington. Vincent Fecteau fills the downstairs gallery with plinth-mounted, moulded vehicular/ventricular sculptures in naturally-coloured paper maché paste (atmospherically béton brut) with organic elements secreted within or attached to them which are more affecting than that can possibly sound. Click through his gallery page here, to trace or remind yourself of his trajectory in London at least since 2000 (I didn’t document the show myself, gallery images are linked above though). This is art that addresses the elementary question of why we make objects or things at all. That’s what is going on with and through them; quiet, exacting necessity …

Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, also gave a performance earlier in the week which I can’t speak to because I was too damn ill to inflict my body on a contained space full of friends and fine people! Stills of it on A.’s phone looked stunning, so the regret is bitter. It wouldn’t be improved if spread all over the net via x or y though, right? Similarly, I will only add one not-very legible image (which links to the gallery if you click it) of the other room of works of hers at C-M because the texts and their thoughtfulness deserve that you crick your neck for them…

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How does it feel to be human…

While cricking my barely-recovered neck-contained-damaged-throat at the four or five ceiling texts, I heard a friend ask another whether these were from or by Vila-Matas, an obviously pertinent question before reading. But no; what do you look at when alone on your back in your Perequian or otherwise bed? How would or do you materialise those blackened or brightening thoughts? Questions and essaying answers in response to the same above … blissfully, it seems, not for everyone (still* on Fb?) …

Speaking of V-M; so nice to suddenly realise I could heartily recommend his never-ending Paris to a friend whom I thought asked me for 3 books to live-for. The answer begins for me with Dostoevsky, in very literal ways for this 11-year old who gained not (merely) a reason to live but a way to be in the world thereafter. It wasn’t quite what he meant… I got there, realising that V-M was the perfect book to live-for or ‘gift’ when one’s interlocutor is about to spend three weeks in Paris as part of a cooked-up karmic exchange…

I remember being raised to tears at the ending of Apollinaire’s biography as a 20-year old on a comparable Parisian jag, staying within not many steps of his (Picasso) memorial on the corner of rue de l’Abbaye and rue Bonaparte. I would have waited there for the 15 odd years it took until V-M wrote his Never Any End to Paris if I could possibly have known. If I had I would also have ‘found’ Marguerite Duras at the right moment in life too, perhaps. NB for anyone aged 20…

If you are arting-about in Ldn this week or so; check out Anne Hardy on at Maureen Paley, Ed Atkins from 22nd at Cabinet, Liliane Ljin on to 27th at Rodeo, Hamed Abdalla (Cur. Morad Montazami) on at The Mosaic Rooms, Matthew Collings loved Yto Barrada still on at The Barbican, which I didn’t recognise myself (regretfully, of course, though I enjoyed the small collages) in the sadly insipid/ dilute/ over-played archivism I had witnessed, but heh?, Forensic Architecture‘s baring of war crimes inflicted on Gaza on to 13th May at the ICA, and then the surprise to me of Picasso 1932 (Cur. Achim Borchardt-Hume) on at Tate Modern.

 

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