Hannah Perry @ Serpentine Galleries reviewedReading Ryan Trecartin’s <i>SITE VISIT</i> @ KW<i>Neither</i> @ Seventeen Gallery reviewedTakeshi Shiomitsu @ Happy Times reviewedA mix from Exstasis RecordsSome highlights from <i>Space-Time</i> festivalMorag Keil @ Project Native Informant reviewedFabienne Hess, <i>Replica Sentiments</i> (2014) exhibition photos<i>Tabularium</i> @ Slopes reviewedSALT. Issue 6: <i>Manifesto</i> reviewedAn interview with Sophia Al-Maria<i>Stoneroses</i> w/ Center @ Grunewald reviewedAn interview with Iain Ball<i>Coded After Lovelace</i> (2014) exhibition photos + GIFs<i>The End of Love</i> @ New Theater reviewedEmails unfinished w Holly Childs + Max T.T. EdmondEmily Jones @ Lima Zulu reviewed<i>Phantom Limbs</i> (2014) @ Pilar Corrias exhibition photosRanda Mirza @ Archive Kabinett reviewedMatt Welch @ Vitrine Project Space reviewed

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  • “There was no attachment on that email,” a woman says straight-faced, wearing an open sports jacket with leggings and a bra underneath at the Serpentine Pavilion. She’s reading from a script as though everything is normal while others writhe in a clump of limbs at her feet, through her legs. There’s bodily chaos rolling and contorting around her, no one is dressed for the occasion (is there one?), the music is getting deafeningly loud, but she sticks to the script: regurgitating pre-set, coded lines about emails between heartfelt overshares. How do you make a connection? I’m wondering as I watch her. A few minutes…

  • Carpet, in dark hues, line surfaces and walls, ramps mimic isles and give rise to a sunken floor, short corridors and staircases transform spatial orientation and the gross artifice submits to the loud hush of an old-school cinema. The first thing to confront a viewer entering Ryan Trecartin‘s most recent work, curated for KW Institute for Contemporary Art by Ellen Blumenstein and Klaus Biesenbach, is a strong stink of petroleum newness. Some will follow the slim passageway straight into the projection area. Others turn into a dimmed room populated with brown leather “buttkickers” – vibrating recliners in an otherwise empty outer chamber. Around another…

  • For the inaugural show at Seventeen’s new space, gallery associate director and current curator-in-residence at LUX Tim Steer has selected three works that consider the mechanics of perception. Starting with a quote by phenomenologist Merleau-Ponty, Neither seems to be considering the eye as a tool, one that allows us to absorb experience as well as draft the ways in which we see the world “through the traces of a hand”. The works in the show each consider the production of seeing in strikingly distinct terms.
    Harun Farocki’s ‘Eye/Machine II’ (2002) is by far the most visually arresting of the three. A rapid-cutting video essay, it…

  • WASH is the inaugural show at Happy Times, the gallery space in Milcote House, and the walls are still raw in places. A thick seam of plaster runs down the far wall to the floor and disparate panels of rescued wood and board form an impromptu collage on one side. This, it seems, all part of the installation; a series of composite or material collages, Takeshi Shiomitsu’s paintings throw the patchworked space into relief and lend the provisional build – perhaps itself a product of Happy Times curator Matt Welch’s aesthetic – a formalistic quality. Two screens stand on their ends on the floor…

  • The loosely Mexico-based record label Extasis Records takes issue with my attempts to label it as Mexico-based. “I would like to establish something,” writes label boss Jack’ie Lo over email, “Extasis Records is an internet-located record label.” The founder herself is, according to her Soundcloud page, based in London, and the collective may be largely based in Mexico City IRL, but their URL bond is where the magic is: theirs is the sound of the over-stuffed, hyperactive live feed, with vaporwave and web 1.0-fetishising aesthetics applied to all the most manic and mismatched of trending sounds. They are (of course) hyper-prolific, but for an…

  • Everyone shows up on a bus from London – all genteel with takeout coffees and good manners, though they say it’s a different story at midnight when the party bus leaves Wysing Space-Time Festival for the city. The sun’s out, which is perfect and fortunate, and the setting’s idyllic: a proper modern-architectural art space in the middle of the Cambridge countryside. The program starts on the dot of 12 and I miss the first band because I’m sitting on a grass verge squinting in the sun and eating plums that fell out of a tree. It’s surreal and beautiful, and the various sculptural artworks…

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