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Maria Petschnig, Petschsniggle, 2013 (video still)

Petschsniggle, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
7:00 minutes
(Video still)

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Maria Petschnig, Petschnigs installation view, 2013

Installation view (Maria Petschnig)

Maria Petschnig, Holdmetight, 2012

Holdmetight, 2012
Mixed media
14 by 6 by 7 inches

Maria Petschnig, Petschnigs installation view, 2013

Mycroft, 2013
(Installation view)

Maria Petschnig, Petschsniggle, 2013 (video still)

Petschsniggle, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
7:00 minutes
(Video still)

Maria Petschnig, Petschsniggle, 2013 (video still)

Petschsniggle, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
7:00 minutes
(Video still)

Maria Petschnig, Petschsniggle, 2013 (video still)

Petschsniggle, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
7:00 minutes
(Video still)

Maria Petschnig, Vasistas, 2013 (video still)

Vasistas, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
5:00 minutes
(Video still)

Maria Petschnig, Vasistas, 2013 (video still)

Vasistas, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
5:00 minutes
(Video still)

Maria Petschnig, Vasistas, 2013 (video still)

Vasistas, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
5:00 minutes
(Video still)

Maria Petschnig, Vasistas, 2013 (video still)

Vasistas, 2013
HD video (color, sound)
5:00 minutes
(Video still)


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More on MARIA PETSCHNIG

Maria Petschnig
Petschnigs’

May 5 – June 16, 2013

Press
Colby Chamberlain for Artforum
Matthew Shen Goodman for Art in America
Karen Rosenberg for The New York Times
Juliana Balestin for purple DIARY
Edward M. Epstein for artcritical
Time Out New York
Will Heinrich for The New York Observer / GalleristNY
Sola Agustsson for Artlog
MutualArt for The Huffington Post

— Tsarina Katarina, fetch the tuning fork for Clover’s twittering machine. From where I transcend as this manger’s manager, a proper script morphs twins as badgered duplicate, batty cinemaddicts, prickling neckbraces. Speaking insectually, freckly Shawnique may borrow your legs and you her arms, drawing upon truncated centipede haunting walls that encircle the garden that belongs to the vicar of vicariousness.

— Ya, ya. Truly trivial, but trivially true, too.

— Please step forward. C’mere! C’mon. Feel right at home.

— Thanks, but my trusty rifle’s a trifle rusty. Thump desire. Sunshine, so tickled when Hapsburg snow melted. Shy eyes lie. Ree and Tomas bow their heads, now braver than any war world apart. Kiss bonded, mind and heart weaving silken shrapnel.

— Attendez! Close your yap! Show some respect! Through corridors fire ants wriggle and sashay through the U.S. of A., a story line that hammers vital organs into teasing shrugs after the annunciatory blue angel smoke releases. Far behind the braided ropes please linger.

– Charles H. Lynch