Ross Sinclair

The Agency

As part of Ross Sinclair’s recent show, he ran a stall in one of London’s street markets for a day. You could buy T-shirts, mugs, key rings, and pens, all bearing the legend “I ♥ Real Life.” For Sinclair, “real life” is not something that exists but something dreamed of or longed for, something that exerts itself as an idealized possibility out of the more immediate situation of cultural uncertainty.

At the gallery hung seven photographs of Sinclair lying face down like a corpse in a variety of otherwise idyllic natural settings: on a woodland path, in a river, at the water’s edge. In each image he is dressed in tartan shorts. Sinclair is Scottish, but what that term means, either to us or to him, is always up for discussion. The words “REAL LIFE,” tattooed across his bare upper back, are clearly visible, especially as each scene is lit so starkly that the heightened colors make nature

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