Kathy Noble

  • Maja Čule

    Maja Čule’s new video Mouth, 2017, is what a nature documentary might be like if made with a mumblecore aesthetic. Men in outdoor gear roam through a forest holding big sticks, shuffle around a muddy lake, and cross terrain thickly covered in decaying autumn leaves. One howls to the sky. Another scans a man’s back with his phone, zooming in on what appears to be a tick bite. At night they stalk animals and wrestle with each other—at one point I heard a pig or boar grunt, but it was too dark to see what’s happening. The soundtrack is ambient: Sometimes we hear their voices or the camera

  • Marianna Simnett

    Marianna Simnett’s film installation Worst Gift, 2017, is a Wizard of Oz for the Botox age. Simnett worked with physician and singer Declan Costello to tell the story of a voice surgeon who injects prepubescent boys with a substance to lower their voices, creating a surreal fairy-tale musical that is part hallucinatory daydream, part nightmare. Shot in a field, a Botox factory, and an operating theater, the film stars the artist herself as a Dorothyesque character—wearing a girly white dress and turquoise sparkling slippers—who is on a journey to be transformed via the same substance.

  • Nicola Tyson

    Nicola Tyson’s painted forms are bodily. In some, I see human traces. In others, I see animals, trees, and plants. Her subjects are natural bodies—all living entities. They are not perfectly formed, however. Tyson creates them with light, broad sweeps of acrylic paint, using a dry brush, exposing slivers of white linen canvas, revealing the paint’s movement across the surface. Tyson’s recent exhibition “A Tendency to Flock” consisted of seven paintings in a rich palette of dark red, burnt orange, and varying shades of blue (turquoise, baby, sky) and (green forest) alongside numerous browns,

  • “YDESSA HENDELES: THE MILLINER’S DAUGHTER”

    In 1988, Ydessa Hendeles opened a private foundation (shuttered in 2012) to support Canadian and internationally based artists:There, she orchestrated uncanny exhibitions combining contemporary art, historical artifacts, and found objects, at times interweaving her own projects with those of the artists she championed. The Power Plant’s exhibition marks the first time the entire venue has been devoted to the work of a female artist, and ample space will be provided for a number of Hendeles’s complex works from the past decade, including From her wooden sleep . . . , 2013,

  • Nicolas Deshayes

    Plumbing is the original, mostly invisible, technological network that connects us. Clean water, delivered through a hidden maze of pipes that pop up in our homes, enables us to live the sanitary, hygienic lives we take for granted and which are requisite for social acceptability in the developed world. For his exhibition of new work—titled “Thames Water,” after the utility company responsible for waste treatment and the distribution network for clean water in Greater London—Nicolas Deshayes presented six sculptures that functioned as radiators. Cast-iron forms mimicking assholes, wiry

  • DIS

    Remember those Benetton ads from the 1980s and ’90s? Their contrived rainbow of human skin tones and Pantone-color-chart clothes and their public support of victims of the AIDS crisis were considered representationally radical by the mainstream press at the time. Central to “Image Life,” the first London solo exhibition by the DIS collective, was the video installation Image Life (Related by Contour) (all works 2016): It depicts a similar hybrid of performed racial inclusivity and inclusive chromatics but aspires to stock-photography genericism. The work comprises a flatscreen inside a bespoke

  • Danai Anesiadou

    Imagine a museum display re-creating a trashy psychedelic party whose attendees include Catherine Deneuve dressed as a princess in Jacques Demy’s 1970 fairy-tale film Donkey Skin; Abe Sada, a woman notorious for erotically asphyxiating and severing her lover’s penis in 1930s Japan; and actress Isabelle Illiers, topless and wrapped in chains for her role in The Fruits of Passion, Shūji Terayama’s 1981 takeoff on The Story of O. The fete is staged in a building modeled on a Greek temple destroyed in an explosive apocalypse; the partygoers’ possessions are stored in ziplock plastic bags as if saved

  • Christine Sun Kim

    In a recent TED Talk, Christine Sun Kim commented that, “As a deaf person living in a world of sound, it’s as if I was living in a foreign country, blindly following its rules, customs, behaviors, and norms without ever questioning them.” She went on to explain that she used to make paintings, but when she noticed that nearly every exhibition she visited displayed a work incorporating an element of sound, she began to wonder if she was now going to be excluded from contemporary art. She therefore decided to reclaim her “ownership of sound” via her work—something that, as a deaf child, she

  • Mark Leckey

    The initial idea was simple: On YouTube, Mark Leckey discovered the audio recording of a Joy Division matinee gig he’d attended in 1979, at age fifteen, the memory of which deeply affected him–leading him to wonder if he could compile important memories from his life through film, ads, and music found online. The resulting film, Dream English Kid 1964–1999 AD, 2015, could be considered a dystopian romance. It begins the year Leckey was born, 1964, with footage of early Beatles television broadcasts; the work is not only about music as a point of collective memory but also about the rapid evolution

  • Glasgow International

    Glasgow is a city that makes things. Historically a center for craft and industry, it has today become a hotbed for artists, drawn by the Glasgow School of Art, who continue to live and work there after graduation. McCrory devised the program with this duality in mind, curating a series of commissions and exhibitions that consider the city’s industrial legacy in relation to the studio-production culture of artists based there—inferring that the psyches of the city’s denizens are steeped in its industrial past. Tramway will play host to a group exhibition that includes

  • Wojciech Kosma

    TWO WOMEN lie reclining in different positions on a matte-black foam floor. “How are you?” asks one. “I’m better than yesterday,” replies the other. As they continue to chat, they begin to move—pacing and swerving around each other—surrounded by an audience sitting on the floor along the four walls. “How was your Tinder date?” asks one. “It was really good. She was supercute,” replies the other.

    This was the tentative beginning to JESSICA LLEWELLYN TIMOTHY DWAYNE WOJCIECH YUNUEN, the latest installment in a project instigated in 2011 by Wojciech Kosma. The premise is simple: The performers

  • Larry Johnson

    Untitled (Raven Row Giraffe), 2015, is a wall-spanning photograph of a cartoon giraffe with an image of a pencil inserted in its asshole as it sucks on another—the pencils manipulated by images of two human hands. The animal’s pouty lips are clasped tightly, its eyes popping out. Another photograph, Untitled (Ass), 2007, depicts a line-drawn donkey whose anus is being poked by a pencil eraser as it makes dopey, sexy, come-hither eyes at the hand that wields the writing implement. In Untitled (Kangaroo), 2007, a female marsupial has a pencil sticking erect from her pouch, which she grips

  • Yto Barrada

    What does it mean to be fake? The word immediately conjures negative terms used to describe a state of deception or untruth, an assertion that is inauthentic, unreal, perhaps even a lie. The French equivalent, faux—which also, of course, registers in English—was used repeatedly by Yto Barrada in her exhibition “Faux Guide.” The show was, quite literally, a “fake guide” through actual, probable, and fictional histories of an area of Morocco that lies between the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert—once the floor of an ancient ocean, described by the gallery text as an “El Dorado

  • Ydessa Hendeles

    As I entered Ydessa Hendeles’s installation From her wooden sleep . . . , 2015, I instantly became extremely anxious. I was equally entranced. The darkened theater space of the ICA was filled with 150 wooden artist’s mannequins—from miniature, doll-size figures to adult-human scale, dating from 1520 to 1930—collected by Hendeles over the past twenty years. Most were seated on rows of low oak pews designed for children, their backs turned as they looked toward a lone beech and steel figure, with an easel holding a portrait of a man to its right. On either side of this figure were four

  • picks May 26, 2015

    Frances Stark

    “Bitch, I don’t give a fuck about you, or anything that you do,” lyrics from Big Sean’s “I Don’t Fuck with You,” blared out of Frances Stark’s exhibition “Sorry for the wait.” The four videos in Poets On the Pyre (I–IV), 2015, were displayed on monitors alongside images of signposts topped with the words “CLEVER” and “STUPID”—each designed to enable reversible reading as the other. The videos presented material collated on Stark’s Instagram, @therealstarkiller. This included a myriad of cultural imagery, both high- and lowbrow: art classics such as Isabelle Graw’s High Price, 2010; Mike Kelley’s

  • Nil Yalter

    Can a body be institutionalized? The human mind certainly can. And what the mind absorbs the body enacts, as it is corralled by the social structures and physical architectures it inhabits. Paris-based Turkish artist Nil Yalter has created a body of work over the past forty years that addresses this idea in relationship to the politics of affect––specifically examining the experiences of women who exist on society’s margins, such as immigrants and prisoners. Her first solo exhibition in London presented three early works from the 1970s: La Roquette, Prison de Femmes, 1974; Harem, 1979; and

  • Rachel Reupke

    “Dear Sir or Madam: It has come to my attention that I am paid less than the man next to me on the assembly line,” states the narrator’s voice in Rachel Reupke’s latest video, Letter of Complaint, 2015, a ten-minute piece commissioned by Cubitt. The letter of complaint can be considered an art form in its own right; its subject matter can range from the deeply serious to the trivial. Expressing one’s exasperation, frustration, disappointment, or anger in this constricted format is a tricky task. Inspired by correspondence found in various UK archives, Reupke’s work considers this act of writing

  • Senga Nengudi

    Around the bottom edge where pristine white gallery walls meet buffed concrete, Senga Nengudi spread thin strips of sand, forming an alternative baseboard, as if the earth were seeping up into the room. From the walls hung sculptures from the series “R.S.V.P.,” 1976–, formed of sheer panty hose in tones ranging from pale cream to dark brown, with a little dark green, white, and black. Some of these malleable, visceral, yet delicate sculptures were stretched across corners—one, Internal I, 1972/2014, monumentally from floor to ceiling in a gallery of its own, as if marking a territory. The

  • CLOSE-UP: DOUBLE NEGATIVE

    JAMES RICHARDS'S seven-minute video Raking Light, 2014, begins with a slow panning shot of a glass desk. Bright sunlight reflects off the camera lens and the desktop, which appears to be embossed with a pattern of fingerprints. In fact, this surface texture is neither deliberate nor decorative. It is, however, entirely bodily in its making: The pattern is the accumulation of daily life, formed not only from fingerprints but also, according to Richards, from dust, detritus, and semen. Shot in extreme close-up, the fingerprint whorls are unambiguously apparent—these are not just graphic traces

  • Marc Camille Chaimowicz

    Marc Camille Chaimowicz usually imagines interior spaces for human inhabitation; for the exhibition “Forty and Forty,” he instead created an environment for “free-range” canaries to inhabit. The installation incorporated two works each by Klara Liden and Manfred Pernice alongside several of his own. As I approached the gallery—situated in a stark concrete building in the courtyard of a typical Berlin Plattenbau (a kind of housing block built from prefabricated concrete slabs) in Mitte—I was drawn toward the space by the high-pitched birdsong that rang through the open door. What I