Review | He cites Giorgio de ...

Generated on 2022-12-17 09:43:51

Result #1

He cites Giorgio de Chirico, the Italian painter and precursor of Surrealism, as an important reference, who created perspectival urban landscapes with his metaphysical painting, in which ancient columns, fragments of statues or absurd objects such as bananas or gloves form dreamy, theatrical spaces. Sebastian Haas‘ paintings seem like a contemporary, somewhat dystopian update of de Chirico‘s spaces. Their gleaming surfaces remind me of the reflective screen of my iPhone – that technical device that, today, increasingly mediates between myself and the world, and determines my appropriation of landscapes and spaces. Not without reason, Sebastian Haas is also interested in philosopher Byung-Chul Han‘s theory of the society of fatigue, which describes Western people at the beginning of the 21st century as introspective creatures, afraid of burn-out and other nervous diseases. Perhaps Sebastian Haas’ paintings simply depict the landscapes of such a society. They seem to have been made from the ruins of paintings, and they look as if they had been burned. They are a mess of paint splattered on the canvas, the remnants of a struggle to survive. The artist even uses bits of the destroyed paintings as his own material, as if to suggest that the ancient world was as much a part of the present as it was of the past.The paintings are very lively, with tons of paint and crayons mixed in, and they seem to be about the strength of the paintings as well as their age. The paintings are decorated with human and animal heads and muscles, and these creatures have been reworked with crayons and chalk. The use of the crayons and the crayons references the contemporary art world, with its obsession with spectacle and appearance, in a way that is ironic. The way the works are decorated, the way they are painted, is almost as an allegory of the way the paintings have been looked at in the past, with its refined, elite treatment.The paintings are wrapped in cloth, and they are hung on the wall in a variety of patterns and textures, from traditional Korean embroidery to the prints of the Nara. The viewer is invited to use the cloth to unwrap the paintings, but the works are rarely available for that purpose. It is not the paintings themselves that are in danger of being torn off, but rather their wrapping. The artist invites the viewer to use the cloth to unwrap and toss into the gallery space. This is a piece of clothing, and the artist is trying to grab hold of it, but he cannot. In his quest for a complete picture, he finds only scraps, as if he were trying to find a piece of skin, a skin on the surface of the canvas. He seems to be attempting to hold onto something, to hold onto this fragile, fleshlike substance. We are invited to use the cloth to unravel the skin.

Result #2

What distinguishes Haas’ paintings from Byung-Chul’ is the carefully crafted surfaces. They are completely devoid of human intervention. It is an impressive achievement that Haas’ eyes are so observant. He is able to depict the anxiety and paranoia of the young, and the uncertainness of life, a place where nothing is always present and nothing is always seen. His paintings are expressions of the individual in a world that is out of reach, that is irredeemable. He emphasizes the sense of being in a void, of the loss of hope, which the artist is forced to confront.

Result #3

He cites Giorgio de Chirico, the Italian painter and precursor of Surrealism, as an important reference, who created perspectival urban landscapes with his metaphysical painting, in which ancient columns, fragments of statues or absurd objects such as bananas or gloves form dreamy, theatrical spaces. Sebastian Haas‘ paintings seem like a contemporary, somewhat dystopian update of de Chirico‘s spaces. Their gleaming surfaces remind me of the reflective screen of my iPhone – that technical device that, today, increasingly mediates between myself and the world, and determines my appropriation of landscapes and spaces. Not without reason, Sebastian Haas is also interested in philosopher Byung-Chul Han‘s theory of the society of fatigue, which describes Western people at the beginning of the 21st century as introspective creatures, afraid of burn-out and other nervous diseases. Perhaps Sebastian Haas’ paintings simply depict the landscapes of such a society.The majority of the paintings on view in this show, from the works in the suite Polemic and Reflection, 2007, were taken from his recent book, which was published last year. In Polemic, for example, a thin, black-and-white line divides the canvas into two zones of areas of different colors. But Haas has painted only one of these lines in the past, so the white line that separates the two, the one that bisects the image, is the white line that will always define the two zones of the work. The canvas, in turn, is divided into two zones: the right half is a left half. In the left half, a white line bisects the white, so that the white half of the work is a white line bisected by the white half of the canvas. Haas paints the white half as if it were a black-on-white circle, the other as if it were a black-on-a-white ellipse. The two halves of the canvas, then, are of the same size, as is the center of the white ellipse, which is rendered in the right half as an ellipse, and in the left as an ellipse. Haas also paints a line of light that runs diagonally across the white half of the canvas, from the left to the right. This line of light is an ellipse, which is reflected from the right half of the canvas and becomes part of the right half of the canvas. The ellipse is a very delicate line, which, with its horizontal axis, its horizontal line, and its vertical axis, its horizontal axis, all produce a sense of solid and void, a sense of a stretched or a broken space. The ellipse also becomes a canvas that is divided by the line of light.

Result #4

He cites Giorgio de Chirico, the Italian painter and precursor of Surrealism, as an important reference, who created perspectival urban landscapes with his metaphysical painting, in which ancient columns, fragments of statues or absurd objects such as bananas or gloves form dreamy, theatrical spaces. Sebastian Haas‘ paintings seem like a contemporary, somewhat dystopian update of de Chirico‘s spaces. Their gleaming surfaces remind me of the reflective screen of my iPhone – that technical device that, today, increasingly mediates between myself and the world, and determines my appropriation of landscapes and spaces. Not without reason, Sebastian Haas is also interested in philosopher Byung-Chul Han‘s theory of the society of fatigue, which describes Western people at the beginning of the 21st century as introspective creatures, afraid of burn-out and other nervous diseases. Perhaps Sebastian Haas’ paintings simply depict the landscapes of such a society. The artist tells the story of the artist, who is a Chinese-American who has been accepted into the art world in Los Angeles but is rejected by the famous art world, whom he insults with his crude remarks. He goes out on his own to express his reservations. He attends an art school and gets involved with the American Federation of Arts and Crafts. He meets a girl named Nina, and the two of them form a rock band. Nina gives him a guitar. They start playing and he meets a group of people who give him a guitar and he starts playing. They play and he meets a fellow who plays drums. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a drum kit and they play. He goes out on his own to play and they give him a guitar and he starts playing. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a drum kit and they play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a drum kit and they play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a guitar and they play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a drum kit and they play and he starts to play. He gets a guitar and they play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a guitar and they play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. He gets a guitar and they play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play. They play and he starts to play.

Result #5

He cites Giorgio de Chirico, the Italian painter and precursor of Surrealism, as an important reference, who created perspectival urban landscapes with his metaphysical painting, in which ancient columns, fragments of statues or absurd objects such as bananas or gloves form dreamy, theatrical spaces. Sebastian Haas‘ paintings seem like a contemporary, somewhat dystopian update of de Chirico‘s spaces. Their gleaming surfaces remind me of the reflective screen of my iPhone – that technical device that, today, increasingly mediates between myself and the world, and determines my appropriation of landscapes and spaces. Not without reason, Sebastian Haas is also interested in philosopher Byung-Chul Han‘s theory of the society of fatigue, which describes Western people at the beginning of the 21st century as introspective creatures, afraid of burn-out and other nervous diseases. Perhaps Sebastian Haas’ paintings simply depict the landscapes of such a society. In this respect, his paintings show the cultural evolution of Western culture, which now involves the specter of the departure from the cult of the self and the sovereignty of the individual. These paintings are often light on the eyes, and are more reminiscent of home-cooked food, with the kind of unlooked-for, deliciously-cooked, seared-and-satin texture that is now common to Chinese restaurants. But these paintings are also full of questions: Who are we? Where are we? What are we, and who has been? The artist himself, who turns out to be the artist, is a mysterious character whose body is a kind of electronic body, a painting that also includes the artist himself. All the works have an almost anthropomorphic quality, and the paintings seem to have been made by the artist in a kind of anthropological expedition into the eponymous hidden places of the human psyche.In this show, Haas presented paintings of the same-sex couples in a number of places, most notably the Klagsbrun and the Stadtisches Museum in Kassel. The Klagsbrun is a Dutch church, built in the 17th century, and the Stadtisches, a former sex-club, which was started in the 14th century. They are both now in the Kunstmuseum in Amsterdam, and they are both open to the public. There is also a park in Berlins Schiedamplasse, but there is also a huge, apparently unalterable, metal fence around it, which is not used for any official purpose, and which has become a symbol of the private domain of the city. The fence is also the sign of the boundary between private and public spaces, a sort of barbed wire between private and public. Haas used the fence as a motif in the paintings.