Daniel Quiles

  • Thomas Demand, Marina Fine Arts #37, 2011, pigment print, 42 x 63". © Thomas Demand, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn/ARS, New York.

    Thomas Demand

    Thomas Demand first encountered John Lautner’s fragile, rarely seen cardboard maquettes in 2010 as a visiting scholar at the Getty Research Institute. His subsequent photographs of the California architect’s models, printed in the book Model Studies (2011) and shown throughout 2012 at the Thirteenth International Architecture Exhibition in Venice, Nottingham Contemporary in the UK, and Esther Schipper in Berlin, testify to what an artistic—or specifically photographic—research method can reveal. Besides the series’ titles, which, for the most part, name the clients of Lautner’s

  • “Antonio Berni: Juanito and Ramona”

    Remarkably, given the longstanding ubiquity of Antonio Berni’s work in his home country of Argentina, “Juanito and Ramona” will be the artist’s first major international exhibition. This show of 115 works will concentrate on Berni’s iconic characters Juanito Laguna and Ramona Montiel, archetypes of the villas miserias of Buenos Aires whom he repeatedly depicted between the early 1950s and the late ’70s in a series of drawings, paintings, and assemblages made of discarded materials. In addition to showing the monster sculptures from the ’60s that

  • David Hartt, Mutirão III, 2013, USM Haller table, nine hand-blown glass sculptures, magazine, neon sign, 41 1/4 x 70 x 59".

    David Hartt

    David Hartt’s exhibition “For Everyone a Garden” took its name from a 1974 book of the same title by Moshe Safdie, architect of the iconic Habitat 67 apartment complex in Montreal. Safdie’s democratic proclamation more generally echoed the utopian modularity of late-1960s architecture (both “paper” and realized). In Hartt’s hands, Safdie’s phrase became a slogan appearing—in one of two sixty-by-eighty-inch framed illustrations by Marvel Comics draftsman Kalman Andrasofszky—as the message on protesters’ signs in a march through a generalized urban setting derived from Katsuhiro Otomo’s

  • View of “Perder la forma humana” (Losing the Human Form),” 2012–13.
    picks January 21, 2013

    “Perder la forma humana”

    For at least the past fifteen years, exhibitions have been at the forefront of the field of Latin American art history, excavating new objects of interest for scholars. Curated by members of the Red Conceptualismos del Sur, a network of art historians and curators focused on Conceptual art throughout Latin America, “Perder la forma humana” (Losing the Human Form) opens this relatively untouched field consisting of dozens of underrecognized 1980s artists. It is by turns important and overwhelming—the exhibition is more like a colossal, open archive than a focused statement—and should be seen by

  • Jimmy Robert, Untitled, 2010, ink-jet print, wood, 31 1/2 x 31 1/2 x 5".

    Jimmy Robert

    Jimmy Robert subjects paper to a series of operations that read like an excerpt from Richard Serra’s famous Verb List: to rip, to append, to curl, to stuff, to crumple, to fold, to hang, to lean, to drop. Sturdy ink-jet prints, various paper stocks, found posters, bits of fabric, masking tape, and drawn elements appear collaged together or isolated, in ways that invariably force attention to the sculptural qualities of what we would normally think of as two-dimensional surfaces. If paper hangs on the wall, as it did in Robert’s recent installation of Untitled (Mickael), 2006—part of

  • View of “NIGHT OF THE WORLD,” 2012–13.
    picks December 15, 2012

    Irena Knezevic

    The discrete works that make up Irena Knezevic’s NIGHT OF THE WORLD, 2012, incorporate an evil incantation, not a mythological one but a real one: Jedenje Bogova (Theophagia), a diary of a chief officer at the Jasenovac concentration camp in Croatia during World War II. Operated by Ustaše fascists, the camp subjected ethnic Serbs, Jews, and Roma to unspeakable horrors. The diary was banned under Tito, only to resurface in 1982 in time to enflame tensions between Serbs and Croats at the end of the Cold War, thus producing violence in two different eras. Knezevic’s direct translation of the diary

  • Leandro Katz, S(h)elf Portrait, 1972, fifty gelatin silver prints, each 10 x 8 1/8".

    Leandro Katz

    A series of images produced according to preset constraints, Leandro Katz’s S(h)elf Portrait, 1972, recalls, at first glance, the Photoconceptualism of Ed Ruscha or John Baldessari, yet close inspection reveals something altogether more labyrinthine than anything those artists ever did. Fifty photos, set in six uneven, vertically aligned rows, document the artist converting his studio into an office, working around a pay phone hung incongruously above a desk. The topmost photographs show shelves being constructed and filled with books and knickknacks. Starting in row 2, the photographs from row

  • Danh Vo, 56 x 45 x 25 cm, 2008, fruitwood, dimensions variable.
    picks November 28, 2012

    Danh Vo

    The narrow entrance to Vietnam-born, Berlin-based Danh Vo’s “Uterus” is adorned with fourteen sheets of paper, recessed behind glass and backlit, titled Untitled (The Collection of Leonard Lyons Letters from Henry Kissinger), 2008. Purchased by the artist at auction, they were sent from Kissinger to the New York Post’s Broadway columnist during the US bombing of Cambodia. In one letter, which includes a shockingly offhand mention of covert operations during the Vietnam War, Lyons is thanked for his gifts of theater and ballet tickets as welcome distractions. Sensation is not Vo’s aim, however;

  • Rey Akdogan, Diptych, 2012, step light and dimmer, each element: 4 1/2 x 2 3/4".
    picks October 01, 2012

    Rey Akdogan

    Open only between dusk and midnight, “Rey Akdogan: night curtain” is so inconspicuous as to be camouflaged among its surrounding Chinatown storefronts. Under cover of darkness, the artist’s meticulous arrangements of industrial objects and lighting accentuate contrasts between inside and outside the gallery—between obdurate materiality and exhibition as tableau, seen from afar.

    In the front room, visible from the street, is Carousel #1, 2010–12, a projector running through handmade abstract slides (mixtures of translucent lighting gels and opaque elements, like black Cinefoil). Further inside,

  • Hans Haacke, Blue Sail, 1964–65, blue chiffon, oscillating fan, fishing weights, thread, 11' 2“ x 10' 6”.
    picks August 06, 2012

    “Ghosts in the Machine”

    With poetic exuberance, “Ghosts in the Machine” considers relationships between human and machine throughout a century’s worth of visual culture: Dada, cartoons, mystic contraptions, the Independent Group, Op, kineticism, cybernetics, and contemporary art. Curators Massimiliano Gioni and Gary Carrion-Murayari eschew historical continuity in favor of frisson, such that a single section juxtaposes a 1959–60 “study” for an unbroken replica of Duchamp’s “Large Glass” (his “bachelor machines,” both erotic and dysfunctional, are emblems for the show), a life-size rendering (from 1975–77) of an ominous

  • Andrew Norman Wilson, The Inland Printer – 164, 
2012, ink-jet print on rag paper, painted frame, aluminum composite material, 9 1/2 x 13”.
    picks July 10, 2012

    Andrew Norman Wilson

    “ScanOps,” 2012, a series of ink-jet prints in painted frames, is one of the latest entries in Andrew Norman Wilson’s performances, videos, and installations about Google’s Library Project (which began in 2004 and is now known as Google Books). In 2008, Wilson lost his job as a contract worker at Google when he started interviewing the temporary, low-wage, “yellow badge” ScanOps employees who have thus far helped to scan some 20 million books, but he has continued to make art inspired by the digital giant. For instance, the 2011 video Workers Leaving the Googleplex features illicit footage of

  • Gustavo Díaz, De natura sonorum invisibilis, 2011, graphite on paper, 24 x 19".
    picks June 05, 2012

    Gustavo Díaz

    At first glance, Gustavo Díaz’s drawing De natura sonorum invisibilis (Sounds of the Nature of the Invisible), 2011, seems premised on the smudge. Two fuzzy, roughly equivalent shaded areas, aligned vertically and connected by faint skeins of pencil lines, can be read in either abstract or representational terms: They bring to mind Peter Halley in soft focus, or a pair of lungs or kidneys. Get in closer, however, and a wealth of detail spills forth: The apparent contours are made up of countless tiny shapes, each filled with nearly microscopic stippling. In Díaz’s drawings and similarly intricate