We refer to the machine we made for Hannover as a prototype. It has a rough, welded look and a dumb functionality, which lends itself to an easy metaphor for creating one’s own space or system for sharing content, narrative, or image. In a way, it’s a sidetracking of the idea of performing in an exhibition space, which, for us, rarely works, and instead lets the machine do the work for us.
Presenting early paintings, archival material, and digitized documentation of a group of notebooks from 1995, this show in three parts aims to show Majerus’s work before he came to international recognition with his Kunsthalle Basel show in 1996.
I think about the troll as a way to free identity, to play with characters. I think we’re all trolls. Do you know the troll only comes out when it’s dark?
The name “Reena Spaulings” feels husky, with a hint of a dire edge. Notably, perfectly generic in a world of improbably literary-sounding characters, it likely lodged in readers’ consciousness on first exposure, like ambient and spiky plane-tree pollen in one’s throat. The name somehow conveys plausibility and a tell, even before one is versed in the nexus of influence and implication it spins.
The fig sign can also be made to deny a request, as a mode of saying no—it’s a silent gesture of freedom, or modest rebellion. But there is something in it that connects the Greek and the Italian versions of the object and its name, for indeed it resembles the female genitalia (make the gesture while reading these words if you want a female body to appear in your hand).