Upon entering Walking, Square, Cylinder, Plane I am filled with an overwhelming anxiety. The exhibition title repeats in my mind cyclically, a rhythmic poem of seven syllables. I circumnavigate the gallery quietly with great concentration. Six paintings, oil on canvas, are hung sequentially down the length of the gallery, three to the left and three to the right. At the end of the space, almost as an after thought, stands a vitrine, its contents systematically assembled. Fourteen watercolour drawings on paper are placed two by seven. Each column and row is separated by a framework of painted balsa wood, emphasizing an involved yet illusive structure.
Color 8.6 Buy This Issue Now