It begins when you enter: Julia Scher’s historical work Occupational Placement greets visitors in the main entrance hall, with Christopher Roth’s bright red sign space-time.tv announcing his ongoing project presented in the bookstore last summer, as to the left Ugo Rondinone’s bronzes from his 2016 series Primordial hang suspended, while Ari Benjamin Meyers Duet invites a visitor to learn a song.
The central exhibition space is punctuated by two large diaphanous screens by Martin Boyce. Ann Veronica Janssens iridescent diptych, silk works by Matti Braun in deeply saturated colors, Nathan Carter’s playful “intersexual” collages, and Daniel Steemann Mangranés glass Systemic Grid 124 frame sculptures by Gabriel Kuri and Francesco Gennari. Karin Sander’s colorful polished ping-pong balls, Jean-Pascal Flavien’s greenhouse, Anri Sala’s cinematic snail etched into a wooden textile stamp, and Ceal Floyer’s wry and witty work of facing loudspeakers, Mutual Admiration, meet below a new transparent marquee by Philippe Parreno. We welcome artists who have more recently joined the gallery: Jac Leirner with the sculpture Jewel, steel cables attached to one another according to their diminishing thickness, Etienne Chambaud panels from his series Nameless, produced with the urine of wild animals, and Tao Hui’s multiple monitors assembled for Screen as Display Body.
From a Plexiglas case two small dolls, AA Bronson and his husband, produced by the artist in collaboration with Reima Hirvonen, look out, across to a historical work by General Idea, the 1976 Search for the Spirit, and to Roman Ondak’s 1997 Sated Table, an assembly of household goods and philosopher-ingredients. A historical work by Liam Gillick invites you to sit and watch the new dynamic drawing machine by Angela Bulloch, as Simon Fujiwara’s enlarged earrings with the guillotined heads of the French monarchs hang suspended near Stefan Bertalan’s geometric drawing from the early 1970s and Sunset by Andrew Grassie, while someone or something is making away with a fistful of currency in Ryan Gander’s I'm never coming back to London again.