Nick van Woert

GALERIE YVON LAMBERT
108, rue Vielle du Temple
October 20–November 19

View of “Anatomy,” 2011.

“Anatomy,” Nick van Woert’s solo debut in Paris, offers a clever gambit that juxtaposes contemporary culture with the past. The Brooklyn-based artist uses building materials including concrete and stone, as well as highly structured objects made from industrial and organic materials, such as polyurethane, fiberglass, steel, and wood. The show, which is a tribute to Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, 1632, stimulates the imagination, prompting viewers to take a closer look as they stroll among these hybrid, anthropomorphic sculptures. Despite their seeming simplicity, these works are by no means simple found objects; they are, rather, the obvious result of a sensitive and masterful use of materials.

Three untitled sculptures (all works 2011) are arranged on a platform. An amorphous object, which seems to have been overtaken by a black, gravellike substance, sits enthroned on an upside-down triangular pedestal. Adjacent to this work lies the white debris from a statue mold that has been subtly turned into a bony structure. In the middle of this stage, a transparent longitudinal square container filled with white powder rests horizontally on a stand with thin metallic legs. Its deathly rigidity evokes the seventeenth-century Dutch painter. But the work goes beyond such simple plays of association to suggest a reflection on commercial displays, Minimalism, and consumerism.

Nearby, an untitled architectural structure containing a symmetrical pile of rectangular clear vessels filled individually with asphalt, coal slag, burnt wood, cat litter, and soapstone, among other substances, simultaneously brings to mind a scientific manual and an IKEA catalogue; both classify objects and matter according to their characteristics until their original identity is lost. In a corner of the room, an installation titled Surveyor overlooks the entire scene. It strangely conjures a sculpture from antiquity and a measurement instrument used by early architects––two historical examples that the artist admires greatly.

Translated from French by Jane Brodie.

— Julie Jones

João Maria Gusmão and Pedro Paiva

LE PLATEAU
Place Hannah Arendt
September 22–November 20

João Maria Gusmão and Pedro Paiva, 3 Suns, 2009, still from a film in 16 mm, 50 seconds.

“Alien Theory”––an extraordinary mix of 16-mm and 35-mm films and two camera obscuras by João Maria Gusmão and Pedro Paiva––has the shamanic ability to reveal new worlds using simple sleight of hand. In the opening film, Benguelino casting a spell on the camera, 2011, the camera crouches before Benguelino, a priestlike figure with a wooden rosary slung around his neck. Swigging from a bottle, Benguelino picks up a candle and spits a mouthful through its flame, sending a blaze toward the lens. His is a magic that comes from a bottle, a chemical reaction between liquid and fire. His methods are clear, but their effect inexplicable; the camera is now under his spell.

Gusmão and Paiva aim to have a similar effect on the viewer, trading on a suspension of disbelief. Much like Benguelino himself, the artists make no attempt to conceal any special effects. A sleeve of black paint leaves a hand free to wander un-wristed. A camera is turned upside down to reverse the ripple effect of stones skipping over a river. Wires are attached to floating cabbages, and ropes turn rocks into tumbleweeds. Film editing appears just as transparently, as in the case of the syncopated setting of 3 Suns, 2009, or the mesmerizing Fried Egg, 2008, which elides separate footage of three eggs frying. Overlapped, the yolks seem to slip over one another, sliding across the pan until at last they align with their alter eggs, settling into a single yolk in the middle while their combined whites bubble into a thick scab around them.

Yet in the end, the most compelling work is one that requires no trickery. In Solar, the blindman, eating a papaya, 2011, the camera closes tightly on the face of the titular figure as he brings the fruit to his lips. Light glows green in his clouded pupils and pools in the creases of his face as he starts to bite, creating an uncanny camouflage with the pattern on the papaya rind. He lets the pulp dribble down his chin, further confusing his face with fruit. It is a collision of man and nature, but with no illusions of control from either end.

— Kate Sutton

Thomas Hirschhorn

LA DOUANE - GALERIE CHANTAL CROUSEL
11F rue Léon Jouhaux
September 22–November 25

View of “Equality Float,” 2011.

With “Equality Float,” Thomas Hirschhorn pursues his research into the intersections between art and philosophy. Following up a string of works ranging from 24h Foucault, 2004, to The Map of Friendship Between Art and Philosophy, 2007, a joint realization with philosopher Marcus Steinweg, his titular mega-installation at La Douane is a political, ethical, and historical critique of the much-abused concept of equality.

The egalitarian nature of Hirschhorn’s works, designed for a nonexclusive audience, is reflected in the symbol of the float––a festive mobile platform designed to reach the widest possible public. Duly festooned with flowers and slogans, Hirschhorn’s float explores, through makeshift sculptural appendages such as two giant outstretched hands symbolizing give-and-take and globe-like mirror balls whose facets respond to their surroundings, the implications of equality. Eleven cardboard panels, each bearing a list of terms employed by artists and philosophers, suggest how it might––or might not––be attained. Words such as JUSTICE, ENGAGEMENT, and EMANCIPATION in the upper halves of the panels contrast with their lower counterparts––KNOWLEDGE, IDENTITY, and OBEDIENCE––that have been carefully crossed out. Towering above these panels is an oversize model of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Discourse on Inequality, which attests to the loftiness of the exhibition’s theme, while the giant blue and yellow capsules scattered throughout the gallery demonstrate how two elements can combine to form a integrated whole.

Disposed amid these objects, texts likewise chart the continuing battle for equality. Plato’s The Republic and John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice, among other tomes, are juxtaposed with the placarded pages of Steinweg’s essay “Community of Unequals.” On Hirschhorn’s float, philosophy does not provide legitimation for art; rather, the two work together toward a common goal.

— Rahma Khazam

Florian Schmidt

NEW GALERIE
2 rue Borda
October 20–December 22

Florian Schmidt, Synchron (Bones) 03, 2011, glue, wood, acrylic gel, lacquer, paper, 30 3/8" x 23" x 12 1/2".

Florian Schmidt’s second solo exhibition at New Galerie, “Synchron,” literally builds on his first, utilizing leftover works from his previous show, as well as a range of ephemera including business cards and announcements, to produce a new selection of paintings and sculptures. The assembled pieces might best be described simply as “constructions,” as they seem to only underscore Schmidt’s open-ended process whereby fragments and remnants are reconstituted into unexpected configurations of surprisingly delicacy. This is particularly true of the new sculptural works, rough-hewn arches pieced together from bits of stretcher bars, collaged paperboard invitation cards, and paint that trace the subtle poetry of their own fabrication.

Materiality seems to be the dominant concern here, with a focus on so much base matter, including wood, paint, vinyl, cardboard, and staples, but it is clear that the history of painting also shapes Schmidt’s playful gestures: for instance, in the large-scale geometric works, or more intimately in “Untitled (Thierry),” 2011, a series of six small paintings, assembled jigsawlike from stacks of old business cards, nailed onto stretcher bars, and roughly painted white, with bits of text peeking through. The ghostly effect resonates with the tradition of the monochrome (and, specifically, countless white paintings), but the work remains improvisational and unresolved. And perhaps that’s the trick: More than compositions, these are material propositions, in the philosophical sense, that continually test the currency of formal languages deployed in brave new contexts. It is this that separates Schmidt’s considerable efforts from those of so many of his fellow “meta” painters, as he eschews facile irony for a more ambiguous, agnostic stance that explores the limits and possibilities of painterly idioms with a faithful rigor that stops short of belief.

— Franklin Melendez

Ryan Trecartin and Lizzie Fitch

MUSÉE D'ART MODERNE DE LA VILLE DE PARIS (MAM)
11 avenue du Président Wilson
October 18–January 8

View of “Any Ever,” 2011. From left: Rhett LaRue and Lizzie Fitch/Ryan Trecartin, Mother, 2006; Brian McKelligott and Lizzie Fitch/Ryan Trecartin, Abraham with the Long Arm, 2006; Lizzie Fitch/Ryan Trecartin, Encore, 2007.

Much ado has been made over the frenetic collaborations of Lizzie Fitch and Ryan Trecartin in the past year, largely due to their touring ADD bacchanal-slash-miniretrospective “Any Ever,” which debuted to much acclaim in Los Angeles at MoCA’s Pacific Design Center before traveling to MoMA PS1 in New York. Hailed by some as prophets of the YouTube generation, the duo certainly earn their mantle with this latest iteration. The labyrinthine exhibition includes over two years of their videos, from the brilliantly spazzy K-CoreaINC.K, 2009, to the rapturous girl dystopia The Re’Search (Re’Search Wait’S), 2009–11. Unfolding as a rhizomatic K-hole, each video is screened in a full installation environment, partial stages pieced together out of seemingly random wreckage from the mall, Home Depot, and IKEA. The overall impact is of a decomposed consumerist fantasy, but the French backdrop also serves to underscore the distinctly American flavor of this thematic, even as notions of national specificity dissolve into a buzzing Tower of Babel filled with emoji, digital effects, and bits of Twitter updates.

Those familiar with Trecartin and Fitch’s antics will find a refreshing counterpoint in the series of sculptures, including many earlier works making their debut here. Ostensibly these are extensions of the videos and sets, assembled from readymade objects, such as baby strollers, hair extensions, pillows, and liquid Styrofoam (to name a few). However, their impact is both more subtle and more anxiety-ridden, as in The Edge, Skinny, 2008, a sculpture of a single figure made from melty latex molds clutching a vacuum-sealed pillow. The effect is at once absurdist and oddly classical, bringing to mind the grace and existential dread of Alberto Giacometti’s solitary figures. It undoubtedly deepens the art-historical context of a practice that at times seems caught up in its own Day-Glo hysteria. Even if not quite parables of these latter days, these gestures certainly prove prescient and surprisingly nuanced.

— Franklin Melendez

Cyprien Gaillard

CENTRE POMPIDOU
Place Georges-Pompidou
September 21–January 9

Cyprien Gaillard, Geographical Analogies (detail), 2006–11, mixed media, dimensions variable.

Cyprien Gaillard’s exhibition at Centre Pompidou—one of the perquisites of winning the 2010 Marcel Duchamp Prize—is less a celebration than a chilling meditation on the relationship between architecture and nature, and on the inexorable increase of entropy and decay. Setting the tone for the entire show, the installation Geographical Analogies, 2006–11, which consists of 882 Polaroids arranged in ninety-eight display cases according to visual and thematic affinities, is an atlas of ancient ruins—and deteriorating contemporary constructions that will one day be ruins themselves. Here, no particular edifice takes precedence over any other: Just as the ephemeral medium used to portray them will one day fade, so are these historical monuments, modernist high-rises, and dilapidated housing estates all destined to disappear. A second installation, Peruvian Structures, 2011, likewise aligns venerable remains from the past with archaeological relics-to-be: A Sumerian head gazes down on a set of metal hubcap stands found in Peru, both having been forcibly removed from their original sites for the purposes of museological display. Meanwhile, the installation UR, Underground Resistance and Urban Renewal, 2011, confronts notions of authenticity and mass production, distance and proximity, beauty and the banal: Juxtaposing two similar plaques—one a fragment of Tunisian marble and the second a bluish sheet of glass salvaged from the partial demolition of the Forum des Halles, an iconic shopping center nearby—it highlights the evolution of the urban landscape and the endlessly recurring cycle of destruction and rebirth.

Looming over the exhibition is the specter of artist Robert Smithson, who based much of his practice on the concept of entropy and, in an interview he gave that later appeared in Robert Smithson: The Collected Writings, illustrated its irreversibility by citing the example of Humpty Dumpty. Throughout Gaillard’s work, man builds, restores, demolishes, and rebuilds, but cannot piece his world back together again.

— Rahma Khazam

Jesper Just

MUSÉE D'ART CONTEMPORAIN DU VAL-DE-MARNE (MAC/VAL)
Place de la Libération, Boîte postale 147
October 22–February 5

Jesper Just, This Nameless Spectacle, 2011, still from a color film in Super 16 mm, 13 minutes.

It is a risky move for an artist to build his or her work on a series of references. Yet the output of the Danish-born, New York–based artist Jesper Just, which consists of countless allusions to film history, is a veritable tour de force. For his first monographic exhibition in France, he presents six videos, including This Nameless Spectacle, 2011, which was commissioned in part by the Musée d'Art Contemporain du Val-de-Marne. With highly effective staging, this piece is a tribute to the panoramic shot: Two long screens face off, each showing different points of view of the same scene, an actress roaming through the Parisian neighborhood Buttes Chaumont. The success of this video is partially due to Just’s ongoing collaboration with an expert technical team including cinematographer Kasper Tuxen, sound engineer Jakob Garfield, and composer (and singer) Dorit Chrysler.

After encountering This Nameless Spectacle, visitors make their way in almost total darkness to arrive at five separate projection rooms. Here they view Sirens of Chrome, 2010; A Voyage in Dwelling, 2008; A Vicious Undertow, 2007; the It Will All End in Tears trilogy, 2006; and The Lonely Villa, 2004. These non-narrative “stories,” which rarely last more than ten minutes, are shot mostly on Super 16–mm film. They have no beginning or end, and thus they undermine our expectations of the medium. We see the characters communicating with one another through tragicomic renditions of pop songs with hypnotic refrains by bands such as the Ink Spots and the Clash. One may also notice references to Alfred Hitchcock, Sergio Leone, Alain Resnais, and Quentin Tarantino spread throughout the works, as well as dramatic lighting effects. Here the artist guides the viewer from one reference to the next, romantically paying homage to filmic masterpieces while eschewing clichés in a work that is both original and personal.

Translated from French by Jane Brodie.

— Julie Jones

Markus Raetz

BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE DE FRANCE (RICHELIEU)
5, rue Vivienne
November 8–February 12

Markus Raetz, Silhouette / The Promontory of Noses, 2001, photogravure and aquatint, 11 1/2 x 9”.

This retrospective of Markus Raetz’s output celebrates the artist’s printed works, which, since the 1970s, have made use of eclectic themes and forms. The show’s curators, Farideh Cadot and Marie-Cécile Miessner, have successfully organized the diverse printing techniques used by the artist (photogravure, chiseling, etching, aquatint, wood engraving, and drypoint). Their selection of drawings, sketchbooks, and ten sculptures includes two hundred pieces, mostly from the Bibliothèque’s collections.

The point of view of both the artist and the viewer is key to understanding the art in this exhibition. Indeed, the viewer is constantly engaged, as if it were his or her perception that created the final form of each piece. At the same time, the works’ relationship to reality is called into question. As the visitor moves around some of the pieces, etched inanimate faces vibrate and become multidimensional, as in Kopfspirale (Head Coil), 1974. A simple sheet of zinc folded in half becomes a seascape in Zeemansblick, 1987, and a YES becomes a NO in Crossing, 2002. The imagination is titillated by numerous visual riddles that bring to mind Leonardo da Vinci or Bruce Nauman, or even the paranoid delirium of Salvador Dalí (as in Impressions d’Afrique (Impressions of Africa), 1980, and Silhouette / The Promontory of Noses, 2001).

Paradoxically, both the playfulness and the apparent simplicity of these works are the result of technical mastery and constant experimentation. The range of lighting effects with which the artist plays so freely is particularly striking: The prints come to life, much to our delight.

Translated from French by Jane Brodie.

— Julie Jones