new-york

Roni Horn

Matthew Marks Gallery

Iceland has for a number of years functioned as a kind of archetypal location for Roni Horn. In fact, she has collected the work on this terrain under the rubric “To Place,” and she returned to that evocative domain in her latest show. Here, as elsewhere, her romantic appropriation of a wild and unstable landscape was tempered by a bracing formalism and a fascination with seriality.

On the cement floor in the windowed gallery sat two square blocks of solid cobalt-blue glass. They were low to the ground, like ottomans, and placed at oblique angles to each other. Simple, minimal even, the pair was adorned by nothing more than a slight bevel around their top edges. Their frosted sides, still slightly gritty, bore the minute imperfections with which they had emerged from the molds, while the tops were polished to a limpid gloss. You could see yourself reflected in their depths. When the sun

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