Christopher Williams precise photographs retain in a paradoxical way what is in the process of vanishing. His photographs, influenced by the advertising aesthetics of the 1960s or 70s tend to become as anachronistic as their motifs. Published as the second volume of the De Rijke / De Rooij catalogue on the occasion of their exhibition at the Vienna Secession, the two volumes are, however, independently conceptualized artist`s books.

Produced on the occasion of Yng­ve Ho­len Horses, 1 September–16 September 2018, Kunsthalle Düssseldorf.

The star­ting point of the se­ries Ro­se Pain­ting is the rims of fi­ve dif­fe­rent SUV mo­dels. Their iso­la­ted cores we­re 3D scan­ned, sca­led to a dia­me­ter of two me­ters, and mil­led in cross-la­mi­na­ted tim­ber. The shift in si­ze and chan­ge of ma­te­ri­als, from alu­mi­num to wood, makes the works re­call the wa­gon wheels of his­to­ri­cal hor­se-drawn car­ria­ges or sta­ge­coa­ches. In their de­li­be­ra­te non-func­tio­na­li­ty, they par­ti­cu­lar­ly em­pha­si­ze the or­na­men­tal qua­li­ty and point to an en­t­i­re spec­trum of con­cen­tri­cal­ly de­si­gned ele­ments, from the ro­se pain­ting style to the Go­t­hic ro­se win­dow.

To­ge­ther wi­th the Ja­pa­ne­se pho­to­gra­pher Sa­to­shi Fu­ji­wa­ra (*1984 in Ko­be, Ja­pan, li­ves and works in Ber­lin), Ho­len has pro­du­ced an ar­tist’s book for the ex­hi­bi­ti­on. In it, Ho­len and Fu­ji­wa­ra, who is known for his ex­tre­me clo­seups and sen­si­ti­vi­ty to struc­tu­res, com­bi­ne their in­te­rest in sur­faces and ap­pearan­ces.

Produced on the occasion of Sean Snyder: No Apocalypse, Not Now, at the Kölnischer Kunstverein, 9 November–22 December, 2013. With texts by Moritz Wesseler and Sven Lütticken.

Sean Snyder takes the global circulation of data as the raw materials for his practice. He experiments with multi-layered signs revealing unexpected layers in an intentionally non-pedagogical way. Refusing to conform to conventions, his practice avoids simple classification. In resistance to contemporary art’s tendency to aspire to a mechanized consumer society, his investigations parody and mirror their processes. More information here.

This book makes available a series of documents concerning the attempt by a United States Government Agency (the General Services Administration) to remove and thereby destroy Richard Serra’s Tilted Arc, a sculpture at Federal Plaza, New York City. A public hearing was held on the subject of the sculpture in March 1985, with 122 people testifying in favour of keeping the piece and 58 in favour of removing it. A jury of five voted 4–1 to remove the sculpture. The decision was appealed by Serra, leading to several years of litigation in the courts, but the sculpture was dismantled and placed in storage by federal workers on the night of March 15, 1989. More information here and here.

“The Almanack of Breath tells the story of two demons, one of whom exists in Medieval texts and one who I invented as a contemporary rebuttal to the first, nasty one. Against Tutivillus, also known as the Recording Demon, I write the tale of a nameless creature, an invisible and inaudible allegorical figure of Listening. Against the punitive, eavesdropping and misogynist Tutivillus, she promotes an ethics of listening by collecting and donating different forms of breath to those who need it.

The text continues in the form of a month-by-month almanac, each of the twelve ‘Seasons of Breath’ holding advice on the type of breath—a gasp, or yawn or a sigh for example—that the reader should take care to listen for.

Illustrations of each Season, and the introduction, are by Collette Rayner. Many of the drawings she completed very quickly, as I read the text aloud to her.”—Ash Kilmartin, 2018

Produced on the occasion of The Secret Paintings of Hilma af Klint, a Swedish Pioneer in Modern Art, organised by the Museum voor Moderne Kunst, Arnhem, from 7 March–30 May, 2010.

With esotericism, theosophy and Madame Blavatsky all the rage at the end of the nineteenth century, the Swedish artist Hilma af Klint (1862-1944), generally known then for her landscapes and portraits, began to participate in small séances. These eventually led to a body of secret paintings. Whilst having received the spirit ‘Ananda’ in a state of trance, in 1904, Af Klint, agrees to follow orders and starts a body of mainly abstract works, incorporating a heavy symbolic language. These works; about 1000 paintings and 124 notebooks, were not to be made public until 20 years after her death, fearing they would not be understood.