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Review of Ryoji Ikeda: continuum installation

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Ryoji Ikeda: continuumRyoji Ikeda: continuum
Review of Ryoji Ikeda: continuum installation at the Centre Pompidou
https://hyperallergic.com/453442/ryoji-ikeda-continuum-centre-pompidou/


A little Too Late, exhibition review from London

Michael Elmgreen & Ingar Dragset at Victoria Miro Gallery, London “TOO LATE” exhibition.

A little too late

Only over 18s allowed in says the silver sign on the door. I was hoping that no-one was going to ask for some ID once I entered because I had left my passport at home, and have no alternative form of official ID that proves my age and indeed, who I am. I wasn’t exactly aware of what I was going to be seeing at this exhibition. I knew that it was supposedly a gallery.


Street Art exhibition, not so Street @ Tate Modern. LDN.

What does it mean for the Tate to endorse Street Art and the Street for art?

Street Art has, for as long as it has existed, been frowned upon by institutions, the critics disdain it's integrity and art professors grit their teeth at the students who go to art school and practice street art for their work.

The only place street art has had a dominant place in academia is its relation to the social world in humanities; The crime relevance to society and how the media has taken this sub-culture and taken its soul for advertising purposes.

This media trend also relates and somewhat explains the art worlds new acceptance with this art form.


Jan de Cock, Denkmal 11, Museum of Modern Art, 11 West 53 Street, New York, 2008, Module CDLIX, January 22 – April 21, 2008

 installation shot, Jan de Cock, Denkmal 11 installation shot, Jan de Cock, Denkmal 11

The young Belgian artist Jan de Cock (b. 1976) has shown in many European venues over the last several years, including the Tate Modern in London and De Appel in Amsterdam. This exhibition at MoMA is his first major show in the United States. Landing on our shores after having achieved the status of a distant but persistent rumor, if not quite a cult item, his work turns out to be compellingly erudite, tasteful and clever. But after the first flush of formal audacity wears thin, it unfortunately registers as an emotional dead end, dry and airless, failing to find resonance beyond its own hermetic self involvement.


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