View of “Raphaela Vogel,” 2018.

View of “Raphaela Vogel,” 2018.

Raphaela Vogel

Gregor Staiger

The title of Raphaela Vogel’s exhibition “Gregor’s Loch” recalled many Gregors, among them Pope Gregory I, the gallerist Gregor Staiger, and Kafka’s Gregor Samsa. Loch, German for hole, could refer to a lair or a hideaway, which in this case might have been the gallery or perhaps an orifice, Gregor’s hole. It was tempting to see the title as intended to needle, to get at Mr. Staiger, who is known for his genial, imperturbable, lightly self-deprecating distance. You have to admire Vogel’s consistency: She never smooths over the awkward question of the artist’s relationship to a host institution. As if the name of the exhibition were not enough to create a little space between her and the gallery, Vogel made her own entrance, erecting a gate made (in white polyurethane) from a mold of the entrance to a tai chi studio, and guarding it with a couple of those awful garden gnomes that Dieter

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