Jacqueline Utley, Flowers Looking Care, 2021. Oil on linen. 40 x 30 cm, 15 3/4 x 11 3/4 in. via Niru Ratnam at Untitled Miami.
Think of those flowers that you plant, Ashish Avikunthak, Emma Cousin, Milly Thompson, Jacqueline Utley, 5 July – 12 August 2023.
“somewhere deeper, past language, it was marked.”
“a dignity hard won: a dignity in need of constant vigilance and protection.’ (ZS)
“not places at all but abstractions” (JD)
A Gentil Carioca is pleased to announce Topografia da Memória, an installation by Sallisa Rosa commissioned by Audemars Piguet Contemporary, curated by Denis Pernet and Thiago de Paula Souza. The work explores the theme of memory and is made up of more than 100 ceramic pieces handmade from collected clay, arranged in such a way as to create an environment for visitors to explore.
Topography of Memory will be on display until December 17, 2023 at the Collins Park Rotunda. In 2024, the work will be presented in Brazil, where it will be exhibited at the Pinacoteca de São Paulo between March 16 and July 28.
Topography of Memory.
Yonamine, It‘s expensive to be poor, 2022, Mixed Media and silkscreen on canvas, 200 x 180 cm.
Source: Galerie Michael Janssen
PARLA_MUTE, PR text by Jose Falconi–“… prepare yourself to contemplate (and enjoy) the critical difference that separates iteration from repetition because YONAMINE will stage a show on such a gap. When you get to the show don’t mind the gap: he inhabits it, it is his favorite place, his most fertile locus”
quiet improvisation, New Blue Sun.
“Art is the Tree of Life”, William Blake’s Laocoön.
“they are things that I do
in the dark
reaching for you
[…]
are you ready?
June Jordan, These Poems
” the exotic was better fabricated than discovered”
“the recognition that in their [Matisse, William Morris] respective societies (and it is even more true today) the mere demand for something like happiness is a kind of rebellion. They recognized, too, that art can offer the counterimage of an order in which the material reproduction of life leaves no space or time for those regions we designate as the “beautiful”.” (Kristin Ross, Elsewhere as Pastiche)
They looked long and hard …, expectant and dreaming of a way out. (SH)
I have folded my sorrows into the mantle of summer night,
Assigning each brief storm its allotted space in time,
Quietly pursuing catastrophic histories buried in my eyes.
And yes, the world is not some unplayed Cosmic Game,
And the sun is still ninety-three million miles from me,
And in the imaginary forest, the shingled hippo becomes the gray unicorn.
No, my traffic is not with addled keepers of yesterday’s disasters,
Seekers of manifest disembowelment on shafts of yesterday’s pains.
Blues come dressed like introspective echoes of a journey.
And yes, I have searched the rooms of the moon on cold summer nights.
And yes, I have refought those unfinished encounters.
Still, they remain unfinished.
And yes, I have at times wished myself something different.
The tragedies are sung nightly at the funerals of the poet;
The revisited soul is wrapped in the aura of familiarity.
“I Have Folded My Sorrows,” by Robert Kaufman
“sneaking a touch, […] each detail was a jolt of pleasure”
“In this place every true thing is okay.”
“after she spoke, the smile that followed made the sun look like a fool.” (TM)