GEWICHT: 56 kg
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In a text from the late s, Asger Jorn argues that to ask if a painting is realist, or even naturalist, documents nothing but a misguided understanding of art. The question, he argues, is rather: Is the viewer a realist, or, worse, a naturalist. Within this degrees turn of perspective the difference between the two gains sharp contour: the Realist projects a latent futurity, a civilisatory purview, a desirable outcome into each scenery, while the Naturalist does not go through the trouble of distinguishing a present from a future, or, for that matter, from a past.
He anthropologises the given, and perceives within it an eternal humanity, a life at the mercy of its own indifference. There is no need for x-rays. What lies underneath is perfectly clear.
But, imagine a naturalist staring at a manhole. That sentence sounds like the opening line of a joke. We come to see what presumably was always there: the ornamental sensations of a wasteful temporality.
Earphones and body parts are curling, skin and wrapping paper is draped, we are hovering above the tactile affinities of human and not human materials, watching their aimless libidinal play on warmed grounds. And even in the collages accompanying this series, in which we sometimes find the boys sitting, or even standing, their gaze is not directed towards a horizon. Their eyes are affixed to the very ground their bodies are bending towards. Eggerer redirects life. It spreads out on a ground that houses the vectors of a sociality that draws the Realist gaze into a libidinal vertigo.
But for the Symbolists amongst us, the wasted fries, the half-eaten burgers, the consumed ketchup sachets and the draped wrapping papers become the regalia of a desirous play, an affective sociality, guided by a sense of touch, a libidinous proximity that is impervious to its re productive ends. Sign up to be among the first to know when new exhibitions by Thomas Eggerer or at Galerie Buchholz open.