Mark Van de Walle


The ’90s have, by now, been firmly established in everybody’s mind as a fairly awful morning after a really big night before—marked by overflowing ashtrays, leftover second-tier fashion types, and a generalized feeling of malaise and exhaustion in the big, empty room. Mostly people seem to be intent on either trying to re-create the hoopla with the leftovers (now-toothless third-hand commodity/institutional critique or Minimalist tropes resurfaced with a shiny layer of glam) or just maundering on about how lousy they feel now that the party’s over. So it was nice that you could wander over to one of the traditional high temples of Minimalist glam (its cool marred somewhat by ugly infighting over money and power) and look at something as recklessly gorgeous as JESSICA STOCKHOLDER’s installation at Dia. In terms of sheer visual pleasure, nothing even came close to this monster

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