Open
and
Revolving
Open and Revolving, 1992
205 x 286 cm
Silver gelatin print mounted on cotton
Installation Sprengel museum 2015
Sex 2, Plural / Wet, 1992
170 x 230 cm
Silver gelatin print
Grapes, 1989
280 x 240 cm
Silver gelatin print mounted on cotton
Salt (5), 1995
220 x 240 cm
Silver gelatin print
Untitled(basket with glass), 1991
141 x 186 cm
Silver gelatin print
Untitled (Snails in a Bag), 1990
220 x 140 cm
Silver gelatin print
Food V, 1989
130 x 168 cm
Silver gelatin print
White Passage, 1995
157 x 214 cm
Silver gelatin print mounted on cotton
Loss, 1996
200 x 147 cm
Silver gelatin print mounted on cotton
Francesca, 1993/2013
229 x 194.5 cm
Pigment print on cotton paper
Things Lived and Dreamt, 1988/2013
249 x 310 cm
Pigment print on cotton paper
Open and Revolving
I’m seeing a thumb, that’s right, a thumb — but it’s sitting propped up on a chair wearing Voltaire’s underwear, or Judge Hide-in-Trees great sovereign wrinkle of black and white dust wig.
Of all things, my own toe just snapped off.
Anyway, I have been asked to write a small something for what appears to be a grand occasion. It is the accession of Hannah Collins.
Filming Things.
There are hiding places, memories, and vision extracted with pink tweezers from the wreck of everyday, — never noticed that one until now, Life. Lying on that dust into placid opaque void of jaws and broken bones, maybe just egg whites, maybe glass beach balls. How the hell should I know? In any case, I think St. Francis was responsible for all those crumbling receptacles, crusting up and becoming sea shells. What a soul, I’m down there in that dirty hole digging up into the light. Pebbles and sand seem to have been arranged to let me crawl up through the cracks and crevasses. I’m out of breath now, and need to have more oxygen. Thank you for the magnificent view when I finally got out. Looks like the galaxies sitting there in two dimensional tranquility.
I’m a mean dirty old man and I need a glimpse into outer space in order be nice again.
What does the target mean anyway? I’ve been one all my life.
When old ancient Stieglitz was wiping the mist off his monocle those peaches became humanly possible and the big chief left his arrows at the coat-check.
Didn’t Hendrix just come up out of nowhere too —
probably —
He’s so great,
The Zeus of Electricity, and … WOW …
George Condo, 1992