Neueröffnung
Organized by Benjamin Horns
November 29, 2014 – January 10, 2015
- 2023
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2022
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Osama Alrayyan
knights
November 9 - December 16, 2022 -
Rochelle Goldberg
Ghost Centrale
September 16 - October 21, 2022 -
Beatrice Marchi
Who crushed the Evil Turtle?
June 8 - July 29, 2022 -
Kaspar Müller
Maintenance 2
March 30 - May 13, 2022 -
6 Bagatelles
Osama Alrayyan
Beatrice Marchi
Daniel Murnaghan
Matthew Pang
Giangiacomo Rossetti
Cinzia RuggeriFebruary 15 - March 18, 2022
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- 2021
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2020
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PaJaMa (Paul Cadmus, Jared French, Margaret Hoening French)
September 25 - November 15, 2020
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Jared Madere
In the back of the restaurant I made him kiss the ring: Haunted House in the Key of New Years
Paths to G-ddess~ Tiny Dick Timmy Ricochet~ Live from the Geomancer’s Clit Ring
You say one thing and everyone acts like you don’t mean the opposite of it at the same time tooFebruary 13 - March 27, 2020
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2019
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Renata Boero
Tempo e Tempi
November 15, 2019 - January 10, 2020 -
Doriana Chiarini
IN GRANDE! Scultura a dismisura
Curated by Mariuccia CasadioSeptember 18 - October 31, 2019
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Cinzia Ruggeri
la règle du jeu?
June 25 - August 9, 2019 -
Genoveva Filipovic
May 14 - June 20, 2019 -
Emil Michael Klein
Curtains
March 15 - April 19, 2019 -
Daniel Murnaghan
February 8 - March 9, 2019
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2018
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Dario Guccio
Urnas plebeyas, túmulos reales
December 14, 2018 - January 25, 2019 -
Michael Pollard, Eric Schmid
Life is good
October 26 - November 24, 2018 -
Daniele Milvio
A Milano non si usa
September 14 - October 12, 2018 -
Tra l'inquietudine e il martello
July 16 - August 11, 2018 -
Rochelle Goldberg
1000 "emotions"
May 25 - June 30, 2018 -
Green Tea Gallery at Federico Vavassori
Amore Atomico di Amore di Lava
Curated by United BrothersApril 18 - May 19, 2018
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Bill Hayden and Greg Parma Smith
Legend of Festival and Enclosure
March 16 - April 15, 2018 -
Cinzia Ruggeri
Umbratile con Brio
Curated by Mariuccia Casadio
February 9 - March 10, 2018
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2017
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Kaspar Müller
Maintenance
December 21, 2017 - January 27, 2018 -
Riccardo Paratore
Do I still have to sleep in the closet?
October 27 - November 25, 2017 -
Lisa Ponti
IL
FOGLIO
È UNA STANZA
CHIUSA
MA
MERAVIGLIOSASeptember 15 - October 14, 2017
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Genoveva Filipovic & Daniel Murnaghan
May 25 - July 1, 2017 -
Rosa Aiello
27 seasons
March 29 - April 29, 2017 -
Giangiacomo Rossetti
KRIS
February 16 - March 18, 2017 -
Matthias Gabi
January 12 - February 11, 2017
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2016
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Matthew Watson
Surplus to Requirements
November 25 - December 23, 2016 -
Dario Guccio feat. Andrea Cleopatria
Referendum sull'aeroplano
October 25 - November 19, 2016 -
Erika Landström
CONTROL I'M HER
September 9 - October 8, 2016 -
Benjamin Horns
May 25 - June 25, 2016 -
Emil Michael Klein
April 06 - May 14, 2016
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2015
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Riccardo Paratore
Casa del Fashion
December 17, 2015 – January 30, 2016 -
Daniele Milvio
Cacafoco
November 9 – December 5, 2015 -
Matteo Callegari
September 17 – October 24, 2015 -
Rochelle Goldberg
The Cannibal Actif
June 5 – July 4, 2015 -
Mélanie Matranga / Oliver Payne
Organized by Fredi Fischli and Niels Olsen
April 10 – May 9, 2015 -
Dario Guccio
Hammer, Chewing Gum, Evasion, Destruction
January 16 – February 14, 2015
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- 2014
- 2013
- 2012
- 2011
NEUERÖFFNUNG
Organized by Benjamin Horns
November 29, 2014 – January 10, 2015
Clouds of paint, applied with an airbrush, betray the canvases to which they’ve congealed. Floating in our undefined zone, light falls on their surfaces from an unseen source casting shadows and illuminating shapes behind the cloudy colors. As we wait for the smoke to clear, these paintings grin contentedly in their emphatically liminal state.
Can we look through a painting? Where is this surface? In certain works, the hand inscribes a relationship between a body and an image, between the gaze of the eyes and the screen as its object. This hybrid language invokes a slower way of looking.
Naked female bodies and a cactus appear in some photographs. The physical plane of the printed photograph becomes the subject, as pools of oil, ink, and dye break up each composition before being re-photographed. A confounding sense of indeterminacy regarding which subject the eroticizing gaze should be directed at pervades these images, compelling those of us who give a fuck about such things to ask Mao’s question regarding art once again: “For Whom?”
Two vitrines display found objects and debris gathered from the ruins of a decimated steel mining town in rural Illinois, are suspended in resin. Like a photograph’s connection to the place where it was taken, the slag in these boxes carries with it the history of its site, but also a sense of alienation that abruptly severs our access to said history. The alienation represented here is dialectical. Historical in regards to its function as evidence of the exploitation of the town’s inhabitants, and immanent in regards to it’s continuing state of change and decay.
For furnishing’s sake, the covers of recent issues of interior design and lifestyle magazines have been hastily transferred to standing cement blocks, humorously muting their real life counterparts.These equate themselves with the luxuries that their surfaces depict, while their form rebukes the conditions of the contemporary art object intended to assimilate within the domestic zone.
Kiki and Bouba are two graphics developed by gestalt psychologist Wolfgang Köhler in 1929 to test his hypothesis regarding a non-arbitrary basis for naming. Here, Kiki and Bouba are simultaneously anthropomorphized and rendered transparent; at once endowed with symbolic agency, and stripped of the power of their empirical scientistic origins. Stuck to the window, expressing pleasure or discontent with their supposedly correct and immutable names.
“Current Curriculum, Condition Report” both enacts and depicts Oedipal relations in art education, weighing them against increasing professionalization in the field. The collaboration acknowledges this deadlock as a choice between the lesser of two evils, and refuses to submit, or perhaps we are throwing ourselves at its mercy? We know that power, authority, and authorship are real, and won’t be broken with simple platitudes about context and collaboration. The sculpture is a replica of the traditional movable walls used in art schools, suspended in the gallery as a mobile, like a piece of meat in a butcher’s window. The paintings are mine, made in good faith. Justin has done a sort of damage and conservation on them, punching holes through them and then repairing those holes with some stuff he bought from the thrift store. He says they are “better now”. Honestly, the whole situation is pretty fucked up, and I’m not sure exactly how I feel about it.
Benjamin Horns