David Misteli

  • Knut Ivar Aaser

    The center of Knut Ivar Aaser’s exhibition “Bordskikk” (Table Manners) was occupied by a miniature wooden table, about an inch and a quarter high, called Untitled (all works 2019). A bright surface of sanded maple set the table apart from the oily shine of the gallery’s herringbone parquet floor, and the combination of richness of detail with diminutive scale let it oscillate between the categories of furniture and toy. Three tiny clothespins were scattered over its surface, as if they had been dropped accidentally. These unobtrusive miniature objects appealed to the imagination, inviting viewers

  • Lisa Holzer

    This exhibition, “I come in you,” featured the combination of pictures and text for which Lisa Holzer has become well known. In total, fifteen works from two series—“The Party Sequel (Berlin)” and “The Party Sequel (Paris),” both 2017—were exhibited together with a pair of posters bearing a text with the auspicious title I cry., 2018. I USED TO CRY A LOT AT PARTIES, Holzer admits in the text, and along with her works’ titles the statement seems to sum up what the exhibition was about: parties and crying.

    And yet, was there a party at all? The “Party Sequels” are two series of large

  • Liesl Raff

    The works in Liesl Raff’s recent show “Maximal Soft” promised to transform and mollify the unfeeling hardness of the materials of heavy industry. Typically, this meant making them anthropomorphic: The two large almond-shaped steel-plate tables at the front of the room, for example, titled Eyes 1 and Eyes 2, both 2018, had steel irises mounted on a lazy Susan, and on their rims were rows of slag, dripping plasma-cut tears of steel. Similarly, three wall-hung pieces, Head 1–3, all 2017, were constructed from bent and unevenly cut sheet steel. Their anthropomorphic appeal was underlined by their