projects – greg.org

Lawler Guyton XX (Traced), 2026

in a low ceilinged gallery space that still bears remants like overhead pipes and fluorescent lighting, and the formica ridged wall on the left of its former life as a newsstand, two small framed inkjet prints depicting two louise lawler vinyl print installations hang next to two larger scale vinyl print installations, of a string of lightbulbs on a padded tabletop, and an inflatable bunny. a show at emmelines in nyc in 2026 — Installation view of Tracings and Arrangements, by Harrison Kinnane Smith, of works by Kinnane Smith [left wall] and Louise Lawler et al [right wall] at Emmelines

While working on the previous Louise Lawler post and revisiting Harrison Kinnane Smith’s Lawler-engaging show Tracings and Arrangements at Emmelines last spring, I dug up the images of the Permanent Art Collection of Brookfield Properties, the company that owns the Emmelines building now called 660 Fifth Avenue. The Lawler traced works on view at Emmelines, in the busy subway station in Brookfield’s basement, were identical to those owned by Brookfield, and installed out of public view, in 250 Vesey Street in lower Manhattan. Kinnane Smith’s own editions, also in the show, were made using the Brookfield documentary jpgs of the Lawler installations [above, left]

For whatever reason, by the time the show opened and Johanna Fateman tried to find them, the Brookfield collection webpages had been deleted. I found them on the Internet Archive.

a phot of the corner of a greige conference room with a flat padded bench under a large window on the right, and two large wade guyton posters, unfolded and framed in simple black, hanging side by side on the left wall. each poster is a full scale image of a painting of an x in various fragment states. they were made as fundraisers for printed matter, and ended up being cheap wall filler for brookfield properties' takeover of the world financial center — Lawler Guyton XX, arranged by Brookfield Properties, 2026, jpg

And that’s all setup for this image, which I found while rummaging through the rest of the deleted webpages of Brookfield Properties Permanent Art Collection, and which is also two works installed out of public view at 250 Vesey Street. I love this image and would Lawler the hell out of it.

I mean, I like the Wade Guyton Printed Matter fundraiser posters, too, and feel badly for the people in 2017 and 2015, respectively, who tried and failed to win the chance to buy them. Turns out Brookfield had a new building to fill with big, bold work on the cheap. But for all their wall power, they really come alive when photographed at a distorting angle in a generic conference room overflowing with other angles. I don’t know how it’ll look as a paperweight, but it feels like it would do very well traced.

Just in case Lawler wants to start appropriating images of installed art instead of shooting them herself, I’ll go slow, and try tracing it myself before searching for rogue coloring book illustrators.

Raphael Facsimile Objects (R1 & R2)

chris santa maria's photo of two small vertical devotional painting panels at the metropolitan museum's raphael show. the one on the left is a penitent woman n a hairshirt, in a columnar gold frame; on the right a woman in a robe and tunic with the indentical background scheme, is in a red velvet lined frame. — Chris Santa Maria’s photo from the Met’s Raphael show of two small devotional paintings by Raphael on the backs of two amazing paintings

I will not have seen the Raphael show before it closes tomorrow. But it wasn’t until twelve days ago, that the loss of this opportunity hit me, when @chrissantamaria posted photos of these freestanding side panels, reunited from a lost triptych.

On the left is Mary Magdalene, on the right, Saint Catherine. The St. Catherine is on loan from the Galleria Nazionale delle Marche in Urbino. The Magdalene sold last year at Sotheby’s for a mere $3.1 million. The cartoon for this panel is also included in the show, a loan from the Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. I’m sure they’re a delight for many.

a composite image of two nearly identical raphael paintings on the backs of two narrow vertical wood panels. each shows a large dark roundel in the center with a mary-related prayer inscription. the rest of the panels are painted in splotchy swirling muiticolored abstraction, like patterns in an agate or other hardstone — [l] Raphael, Magdalene, verso, c. 1503, painted surface *verso*: 14 ¼ by 4 ⅝ in.; 36.2 by 11.7 cm, panel: 15 by 5 ¾ in.; 38.1 by 14.6 cm. [r] Raphael, St Catherine of Alexandria, verso, c. 1503, panel: 15 3/8 × 5 7/8 in.; 39 × 15 cm.

My interest was piqued and my lament intensified when I saw the backs. Though the frames are different, the verso of each panel is an inscribed roundel set into a variegated field of marble or hardstone. Is it? I mean, it honestly doesn’t even look like the grain of a stone at this point. The Magdalene panel on the left apparently includes a fingerprint, indicating Raphael’s technique of applying or working these painted surfaces by hand.

The trompe l’oeil inscriptions together form one entreaty: “NOS CUM PROLE PIA BENEDICAT VIRGO MARIA [May the Virgin Mary bless us with Her Offspring].”

The Mary Magdalene last sold in 2000 as a Saint Mary of Egypt, and has only one entry in its exhibition history: at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in 1983. In 1990 it was acquired by “a museum foundation,” and then went to a private New York collection, “probably in 1996.” This seems like information that could be known. Yet while the connoisseurial analysis of Christie’s 2000 lot essay for the Mary panel is extensive, the provenance is literally one guy.

Notably, it is the details of the reverse decoration and the measurement of the panels after both works passed through Christie’s (the St Catherine was sold there in 1991) that confirmed these to be side panels of a small triptych, and not fragments of a single, chopped up picture.

I will not see these versos [versi?] together, which is motivation enough to create facsimile objects of them.

Adequate reproductions of these lesser, minor, backs of the important Raphaels had proved difficult to find. Not for the Magdalene panel, obviously, which was well documented by Sotheby’s, even down to the dimensions of the painted areas vs the panel itself.

The Met’s thumbnail was useless, and the GNDM did not even have a photo of the verso, I thought. In response to my plea for visitor photos of the verso, greg.org hero Brian Hilley tracked down images online; it turns out the Galleria does publish it on their Italian site [though a hi-res image is only offered for the recto.]

a pair of verso paintings by albrecht durer on the backs of two small religious paintings. the one on the left is shorter, and depicts a fiery ball in the dark sky, possibly a meteorite; the one on the right is taller and filled with multicolored swirls that approximate a polished agate surface. this pair was made into a diptych in 2021 — Albrecht Dürer Facsimile Objects (D1) and (D2), both verso paintings obv

The Dürer Facsimile Objects made during the pandemic were conceived as surrogates for the inaccessible and underdocumented elements of these objects. They were time-limited to the moments when these Dürers were locked in empty museums. But seeing these Raphaels together will be impossible beginning on Monday, and for the knowable future. That kind of distorts the model.

Previously, related: Albrecht Dürer Facsimile Objects

Cy Twombly Facsimile Objects

two polaroid sized prints on aluminum sit on a hand rubbed enzo mari autoprogettazione tabletop: a white peony against a dark background, and a section of a large painting with red blossom shapes of thinned acrylic that drip down like blood, in a studio. facsimile objects based on cy twombly photos, the one on the left with the peony is/was propped on the little urn and antlers combo holding twombly's ashes, which appears in the cy, dear documentary, on the top shelf of the foundation office in gaeta. — Cy Twombly Facsimile Objects CT1 and CT2, 2026, dye sublimation print on aluminum, 4.25 x 3.5 inches

I thought I’d try a little something, and then it turns out the minimum width for printing these is 4 inches, so I tried out two little somethings. I like them.

The thing about Twombly’s photos is that they’re rarely experienced as their original Polaroids; they’re either books–or, if you’re fancy—enlarged prints.

I think that’s changing a bit, but in the mean time, I wanted to see what they’re like at real size. They’re nice, and I could easily see why you’d want to collect’em all.

Cy Twombly, Gre

an invitation postcard with a large graph paper grid is overprinted with a jankier than usual handwrittent text by cy twombly announcing an exhibition from 16 oct to 18 nov 82 at yvon lambert 5 rue grenier st laz 75003 paris, as preserved by the design gurus of present and correct dot com of london and the internet

The Bloomsbury design gurus of Present & Correct just posted this c. 1982 invitation Cy Twombly made for his fifth—and last—solo show at Galerie Yvon Lambert.

The galerie was near the Pompidou, on Rue du Grenier-Saint-Lazare, which puts me three letters closer to a collaged greg.org watermark in Twombly’s handwriting. Although I will keep searching for less jagged examples that don’t look like Twombly wrote them on his lap while riding the Métro.

Cy Twombly, 1982 [presentandcorrect, shoutout @Artologica.net aka Michele Banks for the heads up]
Previously, very much related: Cy Twombly Watermark

Phone It In, Vol. 002: An Art Writing Mixtape

It’s been a minute, but the latest edition of Phone It In: An Art Writing Mixtape is here. Thanks to all who called in to 34-SOUVENIR to share something you’ve read recently. As much as I could, I linked and namechecked people below.

It’s kind of wild how these end up reflecting a moment, even when they pull sources from across decades:

Open Call Me: Leave Your Art Text Reading After The Beep

The world’s going to hell. I’ve got a deadline piece I’m stuck on. And my Google Voice number is set to expire unless I use it. So there’s no better time to put out a call for you to call in and share a bit of art-related writing or text that’s sticking with you right now.

When I first tried this exercise last spring, I thought it’d be a great way to find amazing or thought-provoking writing people have been saving up. But I also found it a good way to share something as I came across it, just placing a quick call, and leaving a voicemail. So.

Call the greg.org voicemail at 34-SOUVENIR (347-688-3647) and leave a message with:
* your name or handle [optional],
* you reading one brief art-related text [e.g., a sentence or two, 200 hundred or so words, a paragraph max, not a whole thing]
* the writer and source.

You can quote yourself, and if you’re sitting on a gold mine of great texts, you can call more than once, but please keep it to one quote per call. And no slop, bots or twitter.

When I get enough recordings, I’ll compile them into one mixtape and put it out here. So your recording may be used [unless it’s hateful or absolutely sucks, obv, editor’s call], but any other info goes nowhere and nothing is done with it.

Call 34-SOUVENIR today, tonight, whenever you read something good.

Previously: Phone It In, Vol. 1: An Art Writing Mixtape

Second Deposition Blanket Readings

a screenshot of richard prince, an older white guy with short receding brown hair, in a white shirt and dark blazer, sitting at an office chair against a blue chroma backdrop, with a bottle of water next to him. time codes in this video screenshot indicate the date and hour in 2018 when he was recorded giving a deposition in his second and third big copyright infringement lawsuits, a supertitle, watch the full deposition, is left over from the very brief moment in 2023 when this video was viewable online at deposition row dot com

BLANKET READINGS

FRIDAY, OCT 24 @ 1PM
STAY FROSTY/ERIC DOERINGER’S FLEA MARKET
128th & Convent Ave

In addition to the softcover debut of The Second Deposition of Richard Prince, the Stay Frosty event this weekend will also feature readings of several excerpts from the deposition, beginning at 1PM tomorrow, Friday, 10/24.

The excerpts vary in subject, but all are juicy, whether gossiply, legally, or art historically. They run from 5-10 pages, and participants will be able to choose to read the part of either the artist or the lawyers. I hope SAG/AFTRA has some waivers for this kind of thing, because I want to hear your best Richard Prince.

Look for the blanket!

Stay Frosty/Eric Doeringer’s Flea Market, 24-26 Oct 2025, at 128th & Convent Avenue, in Harlem

The Second Deposition Of Richard Prince, Trade Edition

a screenshot of search results on amazon showing my new publication, the second deposition of richard prince, which is available for $20 right now, and another book, The Deposition of Richard II: "The Record and Process of the Renunciation and Deposition of Richard II" (1399) and Related Writings (Toronto Medieval Latin Texts)
by David R. Carlson | Jan 1, 2007
Paperback, which is currently unavailable. — I saw “2 results for ‘the second deposition of richard prince'”? and then this loaded.

In commemoration of the Roman exhibition of Richard Prince’s Deposition (2025), I present this appropriation, a publication of the unauthorized transcription and accompanying illustration, on a platform of capitalist consolidation.

This softcover version of The Second Deposition of Richard Prince is formatted for easy reading, and includes black and white images of court exhibits being discussed. It also includes a handcrafted index, optimized for art historical and critical discourse.

I’ll have stamped and signed copies available directly, shipping when I get back into my newly militarized town. Or you can buy one or a thousand right now.

Meanwhile, The Deposition of Richard II is a collection of eight late 14th- and early 15th-century Latin texts that chronicle and comment on events that led, in 1399, to the deposition of King Richard II of England and the accession of Henry, Duke of Lancaster, as King Henry IV. David R. Carlson published it with the Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies in 2007. At present, according to Abebooks, three copies are available in the UK.

[next morning/evening update] I found a 2009 review of Carlson’s collection of Latin texts by Chris Given-Wilson that makes this accidental algorithmic pairing feels unexpectedly relevant. The embedded quote is from Carlson:

“The Latin style matches the occasion: an unfamiliar, idiosyncratic word-set, repetition and extraordinary verbosity, sentences and clauses so long and involved that even the persons responsible for them sometimes lose grammatical way” Not just lawyers’ Latin, in other words, but a form of lawyers’ Latin appropriate to the gravity of the occasion.
And there was clearly a point to all this, just as there was to the precision of the language, because, as Carlson goes on, “precise sense might matter; also, verbosity can make a statement more exact; and repetition, besides hedging against the inevitable flaw of manuscript transmission…elevates meaning.”

The context-driven, linguistic specificity is also the key to Prince’s Deposition, where the language and discursive structure belong to lawyers, not artists. That clashes with art and the frameworks used to understand and explain art in unfamiliar ways that are sometimes absurd and sometimes revelatory. There is literally a moment when Prince, in the middle of a long and deep monologue about rephotography, is interrupted by the lawyer saying, “Do you remember the question at this point, sir?”

With Deposition, Prince appropriated the entire legal process for his expressive purposes: he used this formal, ritualized interrogation to talk about his art—and then he turned it into art.

Now I want to translate Prince’s deposition into Latin.

Buy The Second Deposition of Richard Prince in softcover on Amazon for $20 [amazon]
Buy one, two, or three copies of David R. Carlson’s, The Deposition of Richard II for $29.70 each, plus $13.44 shipping to the US [abebooks]

Thanks, I Hate It

I’m not going to pretend it’s not about me, or my Project Echo satelloon in the Grand Palais,

a 2008 study for installing project echo, a 100-ft diameter aluminum sphere satelloon in the grand palais, based on a photo of richard serra's work installed at the grand palais. by greg.org

or the Grand Palais then tweeting at me about Anish Kapoor’s giant inflatable Leviathan,

screenshots of monumenta, the grand palais art program, tweeting at me about their then-upcoming installation of anish kapoor's leviathan, an inflatable architectural work. the blurry closeup of anish kapoor looms in the sidebar.

or about Léon Gimpel’s autochromes of air shows in the Grand Palais.

leon gimpel's extraordinary autochrome color photo of an airshow at the grand palais, with striped and decorated balloons suspended above the floor filled with early airplane models.

It is exactly about all of that, and also,

Imagine actually staging a balloon show in the Grand Palais, and deciding what the grandest, vastest art space in the world really needs is five, little Christmas ornament satelloons suspended over a field of temporary sheds, each containing its own Museum of Ice Cream-style balloon instagram spectacle. Does that feel insufficient? Yes? Should we add a light show turning them into disco balls? Should they rise and sink in sync to music? Should they invite Bella Hadid? It’s like, confronted with the central faiblesse of the aesthetic experience, Hyperstudio could only think to keep adding to it.

five satelloons hang over a bunch of scaffolding in erwan franck's youtube video of euphoria at the grand palais — screenshot of Erwan Franck’s youtube video of visiting Euphoria, a balloon-themed spectacle at the Grand Palais in Paris

Look, I am fully aware that a sporadic series of blog posts over 18 years is no way to realize a 100-foot wide aluminum sphere sculpture exhibited in one of the most prominent art venues in the world. I get that. I’m glad the Grand Palais was at least aware.

But this is not just about me and my balloon. Kusama has been showing inflatable immersive environments for years, and she is not here in the Balloon Museum’s Euphoria. LVMH was fine to put dots all over their stores, but apparently did not see fit to underwrite her obliteration of and in the Grand Palais.

a sadly dimensioned fake greenhouse supposedly half filled with beach ball sized light blue balloons is photographed brightly lit from the outside in an otherwise darkened space. a white dad with two kids on the outside gestures toward another kid trapped inside. from the balloon museum's offensive installation of martin creed's iconic work at the grand palais — Martin Creed’s *Work no. 3883: Half the air in a given space*, 2024, inside a pathetic greenhouse at the Grand Palais, as part of the Balloon Museum‘s instagram show, Euphoria

And then there’s Martin Creed, an Old Master of the contemporary balloon arts. For the Grand Palais he made, of course, Work no. 3883: Half the air in a given space (2024). And the space they gave was inside a f’ing greenhouse. The Balloon Museum was really given the biggest space in Paris to stage an exhibition of the most important balloon-based artwork of the age, and said, “Half the air in a given space? Sure thing, I give you an Amazon box with a balloon in it.”

The Second Second Deposition of Richard Prince

a stack of white printer paper photographed on a pine tabletop, the words deposition and richard prince are printed in all caps in the center, the words the second and of are written in hand annotations in blue sharpie. — The Second Deposition of Richard Prince, course pack edition, 2025, 11 x 8.5 in.

A full one third of it is an auto-generated, unedited index, but at least it’s getting out there. People who don’t call it Kinko’s have no idea that it didn’t used to cost $30 to print a document.

a white paperback book with the second deposition of richard prince printed on the center of the glossy cover, and a grey band wrapping across the entire cover that reads, not for resale, on a pine tabletop. the proof copy of the paperback edition, which is finna drop — The Second Deposition of Richard Prince, softcover edition, 2025, 9 x 6 in., 120pp

…aaand the third Second Deposition of Richard Prince just arrived.

Richard Prince On Cowboys, From The Second Deposition

Here I am fiddling around with printers to make a paperback version, and he just ‘grams it out.

Of course, it IS his deposition.

For a couple of months now, Richard Prince has been showing Deposition (2025), the single channel video version of his second court-ordered deposition in a copyright infringement lawsuit, at Gavin Brown’s Sant’Andrea de Scaphis space in Rome. The show runs through this Friday, July 25, to andiamo!

a richard prince rephotograph of a marlboro man ad depicts a white cowboy on a black horse, rearing up slightly on its hind legs, in a pale desert ground againsti a dark green leaft backdrop. the ad is torn in half horizontally, and taped together with scotch tape, with a bit missing from the left center, leaving a slightly ragged edge. made in 2016, and published by sant'andrea de scaphis in rome — Richard Prince, *Untitled (cowboy)*, 2016, C-print in two parts, Richard Prince Studio via Sant’Andrea de Scaphis

In the mean time, though, S’AdS has posted an excerpt from the [200 page] transcript, where Prince discusses the development of his Cowboy photos. It’s very good stuff:

Ten Years Later: Untitled (Andiron Attributed To Paul Revere Jr.), 2015

a black and white archival photo of a single brass andiron from 18th century boston, attributed to paul revere jr, with item number and other info written in wax crayon on the transparency, but digitized backwards, from the collection of the metropolitan museum, it became an artwork in 2015 by my declaration, whatever that means. — *Untitled (Andiron Attributed To Paul Revere Jr.)*, 2015

I’ve had the tabs open, and I still lost track of the tenth anniversary of Untitled (Andiron Attributed To Paul Revere Jr.), the first work to be on view at the Metropolitan Museum. [There was an earlier performance that began as a tweet in 2014—and is ongoing, block a Koch today!]

Untitled (Andiron…) was an early part of a series of experiments with the concepts of appropriation, readymades, and the power (or not) of authorship: they’re declared works of art where I didn’t own or control the physical object or environment.

I Needle Thee Every Hour: Needlepoint Kneelers

Really, all it took was seeing the sonorous phrase—needlepoint kneelers—and I believed. It was on the cover of a privately published history of a parish’s longstanding ecclesiastical needlework program, which fashion prophet Rachel Tashjian-Wise revealed on a post while visiting family over the Christmas holidays.

a sreenshot depicting the backs of three wooden pew seats at the national cathedral, with blue seat cushions, and hanging behind each chair, a red needlepoint upholstered kneeling cushion for the use of the worshipers on the row behind. the edge of the kneelers are decorated with the name of some historically significant figure, and the face of the kneeler depicts several corny symbols to reference that person's life or accomplishments. so on the right is sam houston, for example, and the state of texas. in the middle is john singer sargent and a palette, an easel, and an american eagle crest for some reason? on the right, who cares you get the idea. it goes on and on — Needlepoint kneelers honoring John Singer Sargent and Sam Houston at the National Cathedral, via

Growing up near, even friendly with, but not in commune with the Episcopal Church, I was fascinated to find an entire world–or rather, a very specific and highly developed part of the world I’d previously never knew or imagined—of ecclesiastical needlework. It brings together faith and devotion, but also memory, community building, philanthropy, gender, class, and history, and that’s even before it gets to craft, technique, design, and the material. And it all plays out within the ecclesiastical, managerial, and social structures of the Church.

a tight photo of the back of a pew at the trinity church boston has a row of prayerbooks and hymnals along the top, and three kneelers—movable cushion-topped stools for worshipers to kneel on during the service—covered in needlepoint of various designs. each is dedicated to someone, perhaps someone who has died; the one on the left is purple and gold and has the name of a lady who died at 95. the center one is red with some sheep in a shield-shaped field, and the one on the right is dark green with a cross and lettering in gold that reads our shelter our home. image via trinity church boston dot org — Trinity Church Boston needlepoint kneelers, photographed for the Needlepoint Guild by Heather Parker

Basically, parishioners of a church donate time, talent, and resources, to creating handmade needlepoint cushion covers for the kneelers that line the pews of the church. In one place it may be the historic legacy of a dedicated crowdsourcing effort to beautify a new or rebuilt church, or a lifelong effort to memorialize someone. In another it could be a highly organized and socially prestigious fundraising activity. As with any such laborious handwork, needlepoint kneelers seem historically likely to reflect the value of the role, time, and taste of women in the community. It could be a sign of sacrifice or extreme privilege. [cf. prolific needlepointer HM ex-Queen Margrethe II of Denmark]

In the UK, needlepoint kneelers were apparently under threat, a dying art, according to someone who wrote a book about them. Things seem better in the US, a phrase I imagine I’ll be saying less and less going forward. It turns out our [sic] Episcopal church, the National Cathedral, has a needlework kneeler program.

a needlepoint kneeler created by vicky cropped of the united kingdom depicts a fairly naturalistic (for a needlepoint) image of the sizewell nuclear plant, with its distinctive white geodesic dome and white rectangular buildings, set in a slightly idealized green meadow flecked with flowers. the whole thing's ringed by a red and yellow border, via the world of interiors, but it's from someone's book who worried that the death of queen elizabeth was going to wipe out the tradition of needlepointing kneelers, and the world of interiors said, sure, we haven't been to a church in forty years but we'll run with that — a needlepoint kneeler by Vicky Cropped of Southwold, UK, depicting the Sizewell nuclear power plant via World of Interiors

And an epic post on the National Altar Guild Association’s blog about starting and operating a successful program feels like needlepoint kneelers, as an institution, remain sound. Besides the amazing new (to me) vocab, every observation or piece of advice from Bid Drake, “internationally known ecclesiastical needlepoint specialist [and] author of the Guide to Church Needlepoint Care and Maintenance” feels hard-won from direct experience: “I strongly suggest that you invite everyone in the congregation to help make the kneelers, then teach them Basketweave on small useful pieces like Chrismons, usher tabs, and collection plate silencers.” “If you only give out a third of the yarn with the canvas and tell the stitchers to take their pieces to the ‘Mistress of the Yarns’ when they need more, you will have an instant check on which pieces are being stitched, and which are buried in closets.” “Your local needlework shop should be able to suggest a finisher — one who loves and respects needlepoint, not an upholster who treats $4,000/yard needlepoint like $10 chintz.” [oof]

There’s so much about this cultural dynamic that fascinates me, and how it results in these highly specific objects. I’ve looked in the past without success for scholarly consideration of similar craft- and gender- and class-coded objects; who’d have thought that what was missing in my ersatz needlepoint history project was God. 🙏

[Heliostat and] Window for Moving Light

a closeup of ornately carved gothic finials on a wooden choir wall that are painted what seems to be white, with the larger space of the cathedral nave extending into the background, but the main feature of this photo is this architecture bathed, from bottom to top, in red, orange, yellow, and blue light, pouring in through the handblown glass window installation by olafur eliasson. at the st nicholas cathedral in greifswald germany. — Olafur Eliasson, Window for Moving Light, 2024, stained glass and heliostat, St Nicholas Cathedral, Greifswald, Germany, image: Jens Ziehe via olafureliasson.net

Olafur Eliasson has created a work of light and handblown glass for the east windows of St. Nicholas’s Cathedral in Greifswald, a Hanseatic city near the Baltic coast of Germany, which was the birthplace of Caspar David Friedrich. Originally built in the 14th century, the church was remade in the 19th century with woodwork by Friedrich’s brother, Christian Adolph, including the elaborate Gothic choir wall which closes off the windows from the rest of the interior.

The work is titled, Fenster für bewegtes Licht (Window for Moving Light). Because the east window only catches the morning sun for a small portion of the day—and that portion is limited further by the building directly across the street—Eliasson installed a heliostat, a mirror that tracks the movement of the sun, on that building to reflect afternoon sun into the morning window.

the east facade of a gothic brick cathedral in greifswald germany is dark against the deep blue sky of late afternoon or early evening, flanked by shadowy trees. the three tall, thin gothic windows with white tracery glow in a rainbow spectrum, dark red at the bottom to deep blue at the top, so mostly oranges and yellows in the middle, an installation by olafur eliasson — Olafur Eliasson, Window for Moving Light, 2024, exterior view of the east facade of St Nicholas’s Cathedral, Greifswald, photo: Jens Ziehe via olafureliasson.net

When I first discussed with Olafur an idea for a work that involved a heliostat reflecting light into our north-facing apartment in New York, in 2003, [while I had the concept, he already knew what a heliostat was and where to get one], I imagined sunlight that doesn’t move around the room would become very unsettling.

So it is buck wild to see a similar setup behind the altar of a church, where it is intended to encourage “pause and reflection – aspects central to both the Romanticism of Caspar David Friedrich and Protestant spirituality.”

Or does an beam of sunlight coming at an uncharacteristic time into a building oriented so specifically have a different effect? The afternoon sun from the east can become a metaphor, or it can encourage pause and reflection on the human, artistic intervention that produced it, drawing viewers’ attention to the world outside the church.

Fenster für bewegtes Licht (Window for Moving Light), 2024 [olafureliasson.net]

Isa Genzken Ur-World Receiver

isa genzken sculpture, weltampfanger, 1982, is a readymade, a panasonic rf-9000 shortwave radio in black and silver, with dials and buttons and two antennas, on a white pedestal of the same width, installed on a mezzanine in the white cube style gallery of the kunstmuseum basel in 2020. photo julian salinas — Isa Genzken, Weltempfänger, 1982, installed at Kunstmuseum Basel in 2020, Photo: Julian Salinas, © ProLitteris, Zurich, via contemporaryartswitzerland

Isa Genzken’s first Weltempfänger/World Receiver, from 1982, is a readymade, a National Panasonic RF-9000 (SWL) shortwave listener. It is seen above, without the cover, installed at the Kunstmuseum Basel in 2020, as part of an exhibition of Genzken’s work from 1973 to 1983 [which the museum does not document hardly at all on their own site].

It was preceded by a series of works, large and small, that appropriated magazine advertisements for high-end audio equipment. And it was a precursor, if not the model, for the Weltempfängeren made out of concrete, which Genzken showed in 1986. Though I don’t know how that processed; it was beyond the scope of the Basel show, and is not detailed in Lisa Lee’s 2017 book, Sculpture as World Receiver.

It is also, on its own, perhaps the most highly considered SWL ever made, and the vintage radio and listening community are consistent in their praise and appreciation of it.

As for my own process, it is laid out here. I had considered making a readymade Genzken Weltempfänger would be easier than making a concrete Genzken Weltempfänger. And while that may still be true, it would also be hella more expensive.

Isa Genzken at Kunstmuseum Basel, 2020-21 [contemporaryartswitzerland]