The story of Parrhasius and Zeuxis written by Pliny the Elder in the first century AD expresses the most universal attitude towards art among the ancient Greeks and Romans. It’s about a painter called Zeuxis and his contemporary Parrhasius, who stage a contest to determine the greater artist. When Zeuxis unveils his painting of grapes, they appear so real birds fly down to peck at them. But when Zeuxis asks Parrhasius to pull aside the curtain from his painting, the curtain itself turns out to be a painted illusion. Parrhasius wins, and Zeuxis admits that although he has deceived the birds, Parrhasius has deceived him.
Annika von Hausswolff writes about an image by Ola Åstrand
A reclined woman, her posture slightly askew. The image is cropped just below one breast. The other breast is not showing, assumingly resting intact just outside the frame. Actually, the perceptible breast is not there either. Not if you consider the place it ought to be in relation to the given anatomy of the body. The breast is hovering elsewhere. If you let your eyes glide along the outline of the body, it can be found to the right of the head. The nipple seems erected and points to the left. The breast looks like a spaceship about to be engulfed by a black hole.
The sophistication it takes to spot the difference between the real thing and the postcard version is rare among contemporary audiences. But a lack of attention needn’t be bad. Some things develop better in the shade.
Lars-Erik Hjertström Lappalainen on a work by Gernot Wieland
Gernot Wieland’s video Portait of Karl Marx as a young god was on display for the first time at the abc Berlin art fair last fall (2009). After having watched this hardly one minute long work, consisting of filmed drawings and a voice over, I met Wieland for a chat. It evolved into an interview. Below you find exactly what Wieland said, but also how I, having seen his work, understood him. I put it all on his account, though: he is the only one speaking, and sometimes it is just me showing my skills as a ventriloquist.
KJARTAN SLETTEMARK BY ANNIKA ERIKSSON In 1976, the Norwegian/Swedish artist Kjartan Slettemark dressed up in a white poodle costume and walked around the opening of Malmö Konsthall. Upon the arrival of the museum director, he went to attack, biting and growling but also wagging his tail and trying to please. As a pet that not […]
Prague, 1990. It is the summer after the Berlin wall came down. I’m having breakfast at Hotel Jalta – a communist style luxurious establishment. Eggs, bacon, jam and toast. I’m sitting on the terrace facing Václavské námesti, the city’s main parade