On Friday night I went to the opening of Kimsooja at Kewenig Gallery. It was very hot and I had a dog. Also, Kewenig is kind of in the middle of nowhere. When I arrived, there was a small paper on the closed door apologising for any inconvenience that there was no opening that night. "Bêh", René Magritte would say: "bêh!" et, s'enfonçant les mains dans les poches, il tend le derrière et baisse à tel point ses pantalons qu'ils lui cachent les pieds." ("Ugh!" and, shoving his hands in his pockets, he stretches his behind and pulls his pants down so far that they hide his feet.")
I'm making two publications based on the residency on archives that I curated in May. It was satisfying to see how, as a curator, one has this nose (snif, snif) for putting the right artists together. It was by drawing out some memories that this became clear to me. On the left side, you can see how Helga Franza folds or rather tears the napkins for the dinner table. And on the right side, you can see a spoonerism by Lucie Strecker.
