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Lionel Maunz

Lionel Maunz, Regimen, 2014 (detail). Cast iron and concrete. 25 by 120 by 60 inches

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 Liam Everett, Sophie Bueno-Boutellier, Lionel Maunz

Installation view ( Liam Everett, Sophie Bueno-Boutellier, Lionel Maunz)
Photo credit: Adam Reich

(Lionel Maunz, Mirosław Bałka, Liam Everet

Installation view (Lionel Maunz, Mirosław Bałka, Liam Everett)
Photo credit: Adam Reich

Liam Everett, Untitled (Cahokia), 2014

Liam Everett
Untitled (Cahokia), 2014
Acrylic, enamel, alcohol, and salt on oil
primed linen
112 by 77 inches

Mirosław Bałka, 203 by 97 by 7, 1997

Mirosław Bałka
203 by 97 by 7, 1997
Bronze and salt
2-1/2 by 80-1/2 by 41 inches

Sophie Bueno-Boutellier, Compulsive Liars, 2013

Sophie Bueno-Boutellier
Compulsive Liars, 2013
Acrylic on canvas
82-1/2 by 43 by 38 inches

Lionel Maunz, Regimen, 2014

Lionel Maunz
Regimen, 2014
Cast iron and concrete
25 by 120 by 60 inches

‡ Vanish Artworks ‡

Rotrixagatze

January 11 – February 14, 2015

Mirosław Bałka
Sophie Bueno-Boutellier
Liam Everett
Lionel Maunz

The onset of catastrophe is not signaled by the sense of everything falling through the dark and ending in accidental death: everything, including a catastrophe, has a moment-by-moment structure, a structure that is beyond measurement or comprehension, that is maddeningly complex or must be conceived in quite another manner, one in which the degree of complexity can be articulated only in terms of images that seem impossible to conjure since time has slowed down to the point that the world has become indifferent to circumstances and various terrible preconditions have arrived at a perfect universal conclusion, that being because they are composed of intentions, because the moment is the result of unconscious choices, because a key doesn’t immediately fit into the ignition, because we do not start in third gear then move down to second but because we start in second and move into third as we move down the hill then turn onto a highway above the village, because the distance before us is like looking down a tunnel, because the greenery on the boughs still smells of morning dew, because of the death of a dog and someone’s badly executed maneuver when turning left, that is to say because of one missed choice or another, of more missed choices and still more missed choices ad infinitum, all those maddening had-we-but-known choices impossible to conceptualize because the situation we find ourselves in is complicated, determined by something that is in the nature of neither God nor the devil, whose ways are impenetrable to us and are doomed to remain so because choice is not simply a matter of choosing, but the result of that which might have happened anyway.

-László Krasznahorkai, except from Downhill on a Forest Road