New Viewings: Karim Noureldin, Andreia Santana, Olivia Bax, Henry Chapman / Curated by Domenico de Chirico

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New Viewings: Karim Noureldin, Andreia Santana, Olivia Bax, Henry Chapman / Curated by Domenico de Chirico

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New Viewings: Karim Noureldin, Andreia Santana, Olivia Bax, Henry Chapman / Curated by Domenico de Chirico

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Olivia Bax

The Upper Hand

In the studio the work requires constant handling.

During a pandemic, surfaces are dangerous.

Can the sense of touch be felt through screens?

To make a monoprint, one needs to draw on the reverse of the paper. Peeling the paper off the inked plate reveals which marks have been transferred.

In the virtual world, there is no front or back but the scale of work can be manipulated.

I am interested in the contrast between the line and the solid.

Hot Spot is punctuated with two yellow handle bars.

No arm span could reach the two points.

In the viewing room, the yellow handle sits on top of a drawing of hand holding a similar handle. The drawing is called How do you do?

In the virtual world, there are no inside or outside spaces. Surfaces are flat. Sculptures are images.

Punch dangles on a long thin line connected to the ceiling.

I like suggesting mass but try to make all my work light. It must be easy to move.

In the virtual world, all work is floating.

In the viewing room, behind Punch, a hand considers the best placement of the same object.

Is it the right way around? The drawing is called A-OK.

Olivia Bax
A-OK, 2019
Monoprint on paper, framed
42 x 29,7 cm
Unique

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Olivia Bax
Hot Spot, 2018
Steel, chicken wire, newspaper, glue, plaint, plaster, handles, hooks
150 x 201 x 22 cm

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Olivia Bax
How do you do, 2019
Monoprint on paper, framed
42 x 29,7 cm
Unique

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Henry Chapman

For this presentation, the cycle is introduced by a pairing of recent drawings between Luke Rogers and Henry Chapman. One is a clock, surrounded by some of my daily writing during quarantine, and expressing some of the conflicted emotions and reactions he had.

“One Year Later at Luke and Jody’s” presents a seasons cycle, with a fifth painting as postscript. On each canvas, a ring of color wheels encircle a portrait. “Fall” shows artist Luke Rogers reading in the studio, surrounded by in-progress paintings of the cycle. One of Rogers’ drawings is paired with one of Chapman’s as an introduction to this presentation.

In an accompanying text, Chapman writes about returning to Los Angeles last fall, where he stayed with Rogers to make this work. “Form speaks in patterns and repetitions,” he writes. So does experience. “I gave my return more significance than it really had… it was like going back to a pain

One Year Later at Luke and Jody’s

No amount of marketing will make looking at a painting online satisfying. The translation to the screen is inadequate. Oh well, I thought, clicking send on a new post. But clicking send also reminds me of the postcards On Kawara mailed to friends. He wrote, simply: “I am still alive.”

In a retrospective of his work a few years ago, the wall text quoted someone who received a postcard from him as saying, “I recognized it immediately as art.” I recognize pictures of paintings as art, but when it becomes my only experience of art, it’s disappointing.

Disappointment, inadequacy, dissatisfaction–paintings have this in common with their images. A painting is a partial view. It gestures toward something else, something — one imagines — better.

Painting can express a way of looking at the world–John Berger says this about Poussin, whose paintings I was looking at online when I started this body of work. Poussin’s attitude toward the world was one of order, clarity: he struggles to impose this on the landscape. He ruthlessly expunges ambiguity.

But there is too much complexity and chaos to control, especially by the end. His Seasons paintings were the last ones he worked on, in Rome, where he lived. I read that on Wikipedia, and saw the images of them there. When I enlarge them they get bigger but less clear. They push the frame into the blurry sky, or into the trees.

I looked at these in LA, where I drove last fall to borrow my friend Jody’s studio and live with Luke. Some of the plaster from Jody’s casts were on the studio floor, and when I painted barefoot I would sometimes step on them. At night, I would paint or listen to music, or talk with Luke. And very late at night, there was an injured grasshopper that would come out of hiding and hop on the rosin paper I put down to cover the floor. I am still alive, I imagined him saying.

Luke painted on the other side of the wall. He and I collaborate sometimes–we had worked together on paintings a year earlier, during a similar stay. Our collaborations have given me a sense of shared approach to form. It’s homonymic: one thing resembles another but has a different meaning. Form speaks in patterns and repetitions. On the page, a clock can sound like a color wheel; a color wheel can sound like a washing machine; a washing machine, a lens, a spiral.

A year had passed between when I last saw Luke and Jody in LA and painted there. I painted pages of color wheels and thought of them as entries in a diary. I photographed Luke and the studio. I gave my return more significance than it really had. It felt important. It was like going back to a painting I loved–I’m thinking of a blue Agnes Martin painting, one containing so much beauty, and (in its way) promise. It would tell me, I hoped, there’s something else. Something better.ddh

Henry Chapman
One Year Later at Luke and Jody’s, 2019
Acrylic, collage, oil screen print on canvas
178 x 140 cm

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Henry Chapman
Fall, 2019
Acrylic, collage, oil screenprint on canvas
178 x 140 cm

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Henry Chapman
Winter, 2019
Acrylic, collage, oil screenprint on canvas
178 x 140 cm

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Henry Chapman
Summer, 2019
Acrylic, collage, oil screenprint on canvas
178 x 140 cm

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Karim Noureldin

Karim Noureldin considerably extends the possibilities of the medium of the drawing by taking it into other dimensions. On the occasion of our NEW VIEWINGS project, the artist implements his multidisciplinary approach, distinguished by a fine balance between works on paper and textile works. By transforming his large-scale drawings into precious carpet works, the Swiss-Egyptian artist helps in preserving the rare, century-old ‘Panza rug technique’ from Western India.

Using both bold shining colours and fine lines on a white background, his works unify the artist’s passion for abstract forms and fine substances.

Karim Noureldin
Play, 2018
Coloured pencil on paper, framed
41,8 x 29,7 cm

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Karim Noureldin
Play, 2018
Coloured pencil on paper, framed
41,8 x 29,7 cm

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Karim Noureldin
Play, 2012
Coloured pencil on paper, framed
205 x 165 cm

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Karim Noureldin
Evo, 2019
Coloured pencil on paper, framed
162 x 125 cm

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Andreia Santana

Andreia Santana – Forecasting Labor
The premise of this investigation and works is the literary-archivist work Strange Artifacts – a Sourcebook on Ancient Men, by William Corliss – a first edition that compiled, for several decades, numerous archaeological objects not equivalent to the museological status of artefact.

These objects or phenomena were found and described in the archeologists‘ field diaries during the expeditions, but most of them did not become the targets of the necessary attention regarding their description, explanation and origin.
From Corliss‘ countless collections, descriptions and sparse illustrations, Andreia Santana created a series of sculptures that evoke the shapes of these objects in an attempt of a historical re-inscription that initiates an anachronistic dialogue in evitably implicit in contemporary artistic creation itself.

Andreia Santana
Aphasia (bird), 2018
Metal coated steel
200 x 150 x 3,5 cm
Ed. 2/3

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Andreia Santana
Paranomia (3), 2018
Metal coated steel
230 x 105 x 35 cm

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Andreia Santana
Paranomia (1), 2018
Metal coated steel
230 x 105 x 35 cm

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Andreia Santana
Hollow Hand, 2020
Metal coated steel
19 x 209 x 52 cm

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