Julian Hoeber

Praz-Delavallade | Paris

One problem with postmodernist pastiche might be that, like postmodernism itself, one can’t say for certain where it stops. With all things liable to fall into its ken, contemporary art sometimes resembles a no-holds-barred citational frenzy, where even pastiche itself is fair game. Julian Hoeber’s work might act as a barometer for this twenty-first-century license, referencing everything from Op to Pop to post-painterly abstraction. But Hoeber avers that he has simply arrived at a post-postmodernity, having “properly digested” postmodernism, “chewed it up and made some shit out of it.” Though this scatological swagger belongs to a previous press release (for his show at Blum & Poe last fall), its temper was perhaps best demonstrated in his latest show, where characteristic trippy swirls disclosed, ever so literally, their historical fundament.

Updating his laborious inking of hypnotic

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