A couple weeks ago I was invited by the MAXXI in Rome to attend the press conference and subsequent opening of their new exhibition, curated by Bartolomeo Pietromarchi, Low Forms.
I headed over to Exmouth market for a day that had been marked in my calendar for months now. Sasha Galitzine’s Salon 63 was finally taking over barbershops, hairdressers, salons and health clubs along the 63’s route from Clerkenwell to Peckham.
I thought that the more interesting thread to tackle was that running from Gropius Bau’s Ana Mendieta and Philippe Parreno to Fleisch at the Altes Museum.
This week I flew over to Berlin for the first time to buy a few records, learn how to wear a bum bag as a cross body bag, and, most importantly, to see some wonderfully curated shows. As I had time to consider these in the past few days I realised that tactility and memory were threads connecting Henrique Neves, Louise Bourgeois and Philip Wiegard as each artist presented traces of his or her past through their chosen medium.
This week, with Masterpiece, London Art Week and Mayfair Art Week, there was no shortage of events to see (yet I missed two of those three).
One of the works offered by Niels Borch Jensen Gallery that struck me was Tacita Dean’s Quarantania (2018) – a stunning work on seven panels depicting a mountain against a rusty pink graduated sky, reminiscent of Ed Ruscha.
I did however spend an unsurprising amount of time in Mayfair as S2 opened the third and final component of Signals Reimagined, Levy Gorvy was irresistible in presenting two of my favourite artists in dialogue and Artangel took over Cork Street’s construction site for an incredible fund raising auction.
This week I fluctuated around London – from Bloomsbury’s British Museum, to a church in Bethnal Green and back to Mayfair – inhaling the fluid nature of the performances and works I saw. I was so engrossed in this state of flux that I pushed my usual Tuesday column to Wednesday, to make room for Cárdenas’s opening at Almine Rech which took place last night.
This week – besides almost losing my passport whilst Spring cleaning – I lay on a very comfortable pink carpet at 180 The Strand and then took a train to Wakefield to feel the density of Anthony McCall’s solid light sculptures and lie down on luscious green grass in the Yorkshire Sculpture Park.
I began my week by standing outside a very clearly shut S2 Gallery on St George’s St – ringing the bell in vain – for what was supposed to be the second opening of Sotheby’s Signals exhibition. We’re still not quite sure what happened
Putting aside my summer-induced dizziness, I ventured around Mayfair to see a very colourful Lolita, one of the masters of arte povera (don’t call him that though!) and a surrealist group show at Sophia Contemporary.
This week I flew back home to Rome for the weekend to walk around the centre and absorb all of the sunlight. The city is currently hosting a series of big-ticket exhibitions, such as Turner at Chiostro del Bramante and Monet at the Vittoriano, but I decided to spend my two days in the company of contemporary artists and made my way to Gagosian and MAXXI.
This week I had the opportunity to experience contemporary music and art side-by-side through a series of events held at the Institute of Light, König London and the Barbican.
This week – besides confronting a Wednesday snowstorm which made Central Park delightful – I ventured to the Upper East Side for the opening of a tribute show at Tilton Gallery and then returned to Chelsea for some Bill Viola, Robert Ryman and Liu Shiuyan.
This week I crossed the Atlantic just in time to miss all of New York’s fairs (The Armory, Volta, NADA, Independent…). The city is far from barren though and on my first day I headed towards Chelsea’s galleries for an unexpected celluloid and neon trail, starting with David Zwirner.
If Sondra Perry’s opening at the Serpentine uses digital tools to make our dark history extremely contemporary, Open Space Contemporary’s Adventitious Encounters exploits its location to explore our desire for nature in a technologically saturated world.