The driver motors down one of Moscows broad, curving avenues. The curvilinear perspective is perfect, right down to the implied direction of the busses at the end of the street. The buildings in the far distance are subtle and vague, with tints of lavender, rose, and yellow. The architecture in the middle ground is much bolder in contrast yet still appears slightly fuzzy. The female driver and the auto where she sits stand out in bold relief. The pavement of the street shimmers after a summer rainstorm.
The driver motors down one of Moscows broad, curving avenues. The curvilinear perspective is perfect, right down to the implied direction of the busses at the end of the street. The buildings in the far distance are subtle and vague, with tints of lavender, rose, and yellow. The architecture in the middle ground is much bolder in contrast yet still appears slightly fuzzy. The female driver and the auto where she sits stand out in bold relief. The pavement of the street shimmers after a summer rainstorm. As in most of the works in the exhibition, a diverse range of materials (including wood, resin, and polyester) were used. The forms and materials used are also widely varied. They range from simple two-dimensional objects to multi-part, multi-dimensional, and multi-modal constructions. The eight pieces exhibited in this exhibition were derived from the earth, water, and air movements in a tree in the photo-based piece in the museum show. The pieces are made up of pieces of lumber that were stamped with large number numbers of numbers to form the numerical symbol for the number of times the tree was cut down in order to preserve the wood. The number of sheets of lumber is the same as the number of times the tree was cut down. Both methods of preservation are subject to the same logic of survival: preservation in the case of a natural feature and restoration in the case of a technological device. The piece, in effect, is a continuation of a process that was once a permanent way of preserving a natural or a technological device. Transforming the natural object into an object that can be restored to nature is a method of preserving things that are only half natural. The piece, therefore, suggests that natural nature is at once a technology and a process that is also artificial. The tree is like a computer that creates a new and artificial world. This work, also titled Transforming the natural object into an object that can be restored to nature, is an attempt to restore the natural world.In the exhibition at the Galerie Max Hetzler, Ross Bleckner and the Blue Family also presented a series of new earthworks made of polyester resin. The last piece in the show, a group of three water-filled polyester resin constructions, evokes a metaphor for the technological nature of the earth. These structures refer to the common birch that grows in nature.
The driver motors down one of Moscows broad, curving avenues. The curvilinear perspective is perfect, right down to the implied direction of the busses at the end of the street. The buildings in the far distance are subtle and vague, with tints of lavender, rose, and yellow. The architecture in the middle ground is much bolder in contrast yet still appears slightly fuzzy. The female driver and the auto where she sits stand out in bold relief. The pavement of the street shimmers after a summer rainstorm. A traffic sign in front of a building blocks off a section of the street. The building is not the first Moscows city hall, nor is it the most significant building in the city. The city hall, a magnificent building built in the 18th century, has a history of imperial use and is now in its 90s. It was the largest public building built in the country, and its purpose is to hold the city together, to provide basic services. Moscows first building, designed by the architect Asir Sinkas in 1896, houses his personal collection of works of popular art: porcelain sculptures, books on French history, and literature on the Russian revolution. It has a modern style, a connoisseurial style, and a private, even private, history. The modernist architecture of the Moscows current city hall seems to have a more personal and historical past than that of the earlier buildings that were within. The city hall has never been used for the purposes that it was intended for, and the government buildings are in the process of being torn down. The current city hall is a major building, a monumental edifice, that should be used for the benefit of the people and for the benefit of the government.Moscows work is located in the European tradition of classical construction. He has never done so, and the work is located within the classical tradition, as have many Russian architects of the same period: Maxim Gorky, Dmitri Tassim, and Aleksandr Mosinov. The style of Moscows construction is similar to that of ancient Greek and Roman architecture: a classic order that is based on the ideals of the time. The buildings Moscows city hall has turned into monuments of power. Moscows city hall becomes a new and beautiful form of state power. His new buildings are monuments to the power of the new order.
The driver motors down one of Moscows broad, curving avenues. The curvilinear perspective is perfect, right down to the implied direction of the busses at the end of the street. The buildings in the far distance are subtle and vague, with tints of lavender, rose, and yellow. The architecture in the middle ground is much bolder in contrast yet still appears slightly fuzzy. The female driver and the auto where she sits stand out in bold relief. The pavement of the street shimmers after a summer rainstorm. <|startoftext|>This exhibition brought together four short films from 1998 by a young American artist who has lived for the past two years in Israel. His subjects are mostly simple and somewhat sentimental, but the way in which they are presented and the way in which they are depicted are quite remarkable. None of the films is animated, none is dynamic. They are simply arranged on the ground; they are never locked into any situation. The suspense is in the result of the continuous moving of the camera, the balance between the on and off points of vision, and the concentration of the viewer on the particular image. The result is that the viewer has to rely on the skill of seeing, to trust his or her eyes and the depth of his or her understanding of the situation. But the lighting is never harsh. The artists use of tinted, hollow-backed glass and translucent, black-and-white film does not distort or cancel the texture of the final image. The images are always close in tone and in detail to the objects that they are based on.The four films in the show have been produced by a single artist in Israel. The work has been shown in several museums in the United States, in addition to the U.S. Ministry of the Interior. Two of the works shown here were based on concepts developed in the late 60s and 70s for artworks that address a sense of history, a residue of the past, which is fragmented by the current age. These works develop a sense of scale and weight, a sense of the ratio between things and dimensions. This works on the same theme as the work of Mondrian or of, more specifically, Jean Dubuffet, which used such scale to subject the objects of everyday life to a great deal of sensitivity and depth of vision. But the context is not the history of the present, and the context of the past is not preserved.
The driver motors down one of Moscows broad, curving avenues. The curvilinear perspective is perfect, right down to the implied direction of the busses at the end of the street. The buildings in the far distance are subtle and vague, with tints of lavender, rose, and yellow. The architecture in the middle ground is much bolder in contrast yet still appears slightly fuzzy. The female driver and the auto where she sits stand out in bold relief. The pavement of the street shimmers after a summer rainstorm. In her own video, Cincinelli appears in an aircraft hangar. He lifts a gigantic model, which is surprisingly strong. His activities are in the background. He talks in a kind of obscure, even cryptic way, describing his plans for his flying vehicle. He puts the model in the air and keeps it there, making the connection between his vision and the reality of its being. The video ends with him having a parachute from his back. . . . An unearthly voice-over describes the strange plane in which he has landed. He does not describe its particular design, but rather its extreme close-up of an aerial view of a city in a storm. It is a city of dreams. It is a dream that is full of danger. A dream of destruction, and in particular a dream of death. Cincinelli has a dream of death, of death, and of the time of it. This time, he says, there is no time; the time is not behind us. That time is forever. Cincillines dream is not only of an earthly, temporal, and individual time but of an eternal, universal, and cosmic time. "When I think of the end of time, I think of the time of death. In the current time, we do not think of time as a gift from God; we think of it as a force that is being unleashed, and that is driving the opposite force of life, the force that is destroying us. Cincinelli imagines the most frightening and important moment of that destruction, the moment of death. Death has become a terror, a horror. It is the moment of death; it is the moment of the final judgment. Cincinelli suggests that the end of time has become a universal fear. The final judgment comes when the whole world is destroyed.
Matthew Bernstein: The Vignette of a Passport is on view through Aug. 1.Chase Frank is a fellow artist and designer, as well as a poet, writer, and editor. He lives in New York.
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