Photographer of the darkening, of the vanishing: this is how one might describe Dirk Braeckman. His photographs tell us nothing about the world and stay mum about their maker. They are dark, hazy, blurred, highly suggestive. They are not here to show us something: they offer no spectacle, no new insight, no revelation. They are enigmas wrapped in black, hovering somewhere between us and the world.
For his exhibition Dirk Braeckman will present a site-specific wall work.
Text: Steven Humblet
„I met the King of the Gypsies of Kentuckiana on the street; he had a crow by his side that, eaten by maggots, had been hung by its claws and was sitting on an pile of garbage. Still, he wasn’t crazy, just destroyed by illness, time and circumstances. After this first encounter I returned and we played pool in a chinese joint, ate tacos and visited his wife whom he really was no longer allowed to contact because of his alleged attacks; we smoked and he told stories. And then we recorded his song. His song is a „fuck you“ to conditions, a „fuck you“ to white dominance, white and racist police violence, and white hubris.“
Margrét H. Blöndal ushers the familiar into unexpected constellations. In drawings and sculptures the world is rearranged and looked at askew. Her installations use commonplace materials almost like words, but words used out of context and mispronounced and yet they still make perfect sense.
In Friedemann Heckel’s hands drawing is addressed, both as a covering or surface that can be detached from its source and reinserted elsewhere, and as a subversive language whose abstract signs are both meaningful and mysterious. As with much of Heckel's work, this has its origins in his careful observations of the urban environment. His latest works question the relationship between the visual and haptic qualities of goods and images, and the political economy through which they circulate; and which is, in Heckel's works, quite literally inscribed on its surfaces.