Tom Howse

Precambrian Swamp Jazz

Opening Saturday 31st of August, 1 – 4 pm

Hyperconscious Frog Sonnets / 2019 / Acrylic on Flax / 220 x 350 cm

Tom Howse’s paintings balance between realism and fantasy and explore what the artist describes as the dichotomy between our quest to know and our fallibility to comprehend. Explaining the mysteries of the cosmos, the earth and humanity; the theme of life and death; and the causes and meaning of natural phenomena, has bewildered humanity since ancient times. Taking it’s form in folklore and myths, Howse is interested in how humans are drawn towards explanations found within these stories and how they are used to sooth the fear of the unknown.

Tom Howse was born in Chester, England in 1988. The artist currently lives and works in London.
In 2018 he was one of five artists to receive the John Moore’s Painting Prize and was shortlisted for the Caitlin Prize (2012) and the Prunella Clough Painting Award (2012). Recent solo exhibitions; Post- Celestial Compost, 2017, Rod Barton Gallery, London; Secondhand Toad Poems, 2017, Tanja Pol Galerie, Munich. Selected group exhibitions; I Must Be Seeing Things,2019, Ratskeller Galerie, Berlin; Kaleidoscope,2019, Saatchi Gallery, London; Condo London,2019, Koppe Astner, London; John Moore’s Painting Prize, 2018, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool

Installation view
Smoke in the Rain, 2019 / Acrylic on Flax / 190 x 170 cm
Boltzmann’s Desert, 2019 / Acrylic on Flax / 220 x 350 cm
Carl and the Coelacanth, 2019 / Acrylic and pastel collage on Flax / 220 x 350 cm
Bat Cactus, 2019 / Acrylic on linen / 41 x 31 cm
Installation view

Pastel

Roald Kyllingstad

Opening Saturday May 11th I 1 – 4 pm

Exhibition period May 12th – June 14th

Stjernenatt I Starry Night / 2018 / 100 x 150 cm / pastel

Roald Kyllingstad (*1942) lives and works in Stavanger, Norway. The artists high-end finished exhibits intersect photorealism and abstract painting. His paintings are workings of extraordinary precision, proficient craftmanship and subtle nuances of colours – the almost hyperreal images are solely crafted with pastel crayons. His subjects are frozen moments of tranquility, deserted spots at night and abandoned places. Kyllingstad’s motifs are selected from the world of consumerism: shop window displays, shop interiors or parking-lots. He translates those ‚familiar’ pictures into a preternatural dimension far beyond the wellknown or trivial. The impact and application of artifical light is one of his most chief instruments. „I am fascinated the way light can alter the shape and surface of any objects“, says Kyllingstad. Even if he grants us a view of those in-depth and photorealistic scenarios, we are left outside, merely observers: astonished, bewildered and puzzled. Kyllingstad shows the paradox behind the ‚illusion of transparency’. Not: We see, what we see! But: We see what we want to see! As a result of each individual experience.

Our perception is not transparent und our sense of reality is not common. What is left, is the disbelief in an objective reality, in the existence of an impartial outside world.

Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensibus

(There appear not to be any ideas in the mind before the senses have conveyed any in. According to Aristoteles)

Opening hours during the exhibition from May 19th, by appointment: +47 91613947

Bar, 2018 Pastel 100 x 170 cm
Labyrinth 2019 Pastel 100 x 150 cm
Hotel Room no.1 2019 Pastel 38 x 54 cm
Dark room with mirror 2019 Pastel 70 x 100 cm
Lighted entrance 2019 Pastel 38 x 54 cm
Electric Blue 2018 Paste 100 x 170 cm

ELSE LEIRVIK
Epletre

December 2nd 2018 – January 13th 2019

From Tue 11th – Sun 23rd of December, weekdays by appointment only.

Saturday  11:00 – 15:00 / Sunday 12:00 – 16:00

Installation view

No.2
Bronze
205 x 7 x 2,5 cm
2018


No.4
Bronze
22 x 9 x 9cm


No.3
Felt, string of led
Size variable
2018
Installation view

No.7
Wood, stone, sprig and wax
129 x 19 x 12 cm
2018


No.6
Textile, wax and steel
Size variable
2018

No.8
Bronze, wood
11 x 5,5 x 6,3 cm
2018


No.1
Bronze
205 x 7 x 2,5 cm
2018


No.5 (Vintereple)
Patinated bronze
130 x 8 x 10 cm
2018


No.9
Banksia nut, pastel, steel
22 x 8 x 14 cm
2018

happy valley killer hare

PER DYBVIG

Opening Friday October 26th, 7 pm

Last week from Tue 20th – Fri 23rd of November, by appointment only.

Saturday 24th  11:00 – 15:00 / Sunday 25th   12:00 – 16:00

killerhare arriving with two new friends, 2018
Patinated bronze
130 x 110 x 65 cm

happy valley killer hare
Installation view

the set up,2018
oil pastel on paper
224 x 380 cm
Each sheet:50 x 70 cm

 

happy valley killer hare, 2018
Installation view

 

 

 

A Full Stomach In Zero Gravity

 

Florian Neufeldt Sealed vessels, 2018

Björn Braun
Andreas Breunig
Karsten Födinger
Sabrina Fritsch
Christin Kaiser
Robert Kraiss
Florian Neufeldt Andreas Plum

Installation view

Andreas Breuning
Hi_LoRes No 40-43, 2016
Oil, graphite and charcoal on canvas
140 x 100 cm

 

Installation view

Robert Kraiss
O.T (Come on Baby light my fire), 2017
Pencil on paper
215 x 202 cm

Karsten Födinger
Untitled, 2018
Reinforcement basket, concrete
110 x 220 x 20 cm

Installation view

Sabrina Fritsch
M.v., 2017
Oil, acrylic on burlap
250 x 180 cm

Andreas Plum
Strasse der Jugend 3, 2018
Oil, charcoal and paper on canvas
172 x 232 cm

 

Installation view

Christin Kaiser
Gewand, 2018
Stoff, polstervlies
295 x 103 cm

Björn Braun
Untitled (Wildschweinkessel), 2014
Resin, soil, steel
78 x 70 x 53 cm

Installation view

Robert Kraiss
O.T # 1-2, 2017
Pencil on paper

 

 

ILIJA WYLLER

 

 

flipping birds and crushed oysters
like dreamland pools –
we push
through a limelight of dismay
where
in the passage – deeply set
ever so slightly tectonic plates shift
with a
long slow squeeze*

 

 

 

VERA KOX

VERA KOX

Abbreviated Extensions

23 March – 22 April 2018

Abbreviated Extensions

A thing that is cut short. A thing that carries on. A thing and a thing; a thing or a thing. A thing conjunct; a thing conjoined. Do they share a gauche line — the truncated, the amputated, the bent and warped — the infinite, the palimpsest, the overlaid and ricocheted? For what, in the end, is the responsibility of forms, if not to each other. A slow and then rapid shapeshift of one into the next. A tranche of concrete cylinder coated in corrugated white sits at the end of a large, pale puddle that is pockmarked with dark, uneven deposits: holes in this surface, or stains, or both. The puddle is solid, but it wants to ooze, its edges poised to creep forward at any moment should the opportunity for transfiguration arise. The slice of cylinder, or is it a wheel, shares the same pattern as its puddle, and even in stasis it pushes through space with the motion of similar surfaces. Did it enter from elsewhere, imprint the puddle, and stop here in trajectory? Or did the puddle excrete it, a sticky , lumbering birth.

In Abbreviated Extensions, V era Kox’s first solo show at Galleri Opdahl, objects are transitory and transformable; rooted and fixed; but liquid and moving, shimmering, collapsed, filthy , incandescent. Materials beg to be touched, with their subtle faces raised and textured, but insist on opacity and discrete surfaces — a calculated layer of strange stretched coolly over the familiar. A swathe of cerulean ceramic is held just above the floor by two blocks of foam, their edges discoloured by time or by light, or by whatever else pressed against them the hardest. The blue collapses gently under its own weight, its belly kissing close to the ground, the texture of its surface depressing to reveal the straight edges of the shapes beneath. The ineluctable pull of gravity and grace. Desire to touch this pool of blue, this smear of sky that scatters the mind — to dip a toe, and then plunge. Desire to run fingers through this neon streak of hair, which beckons elusively with its silky falseness. The stutter of impossibility, a sickness in the gut. Question after question, patiently superimposed. How is it that glass can seem so soft; and what happens through this green frame askew , with its foreground pierced by chains and a metal rod? What food is this, artificial and yet ripe for consumption — proffered on plinths, shrink-wrapped in cellophane and held so tenderly on glazed promontories?

Around these fallen objects, slumped and spilling, molten and solid — transient states — abbreviated extensions — where do the bodies go? Or need there be a body at all, to witness these mute and tensile complexes. These chains that hang — from the ceiling, from the walls — cut through the rooms, pushing emptiness with their swaying, striated forms. They press against the skin of the space, which is brimming with invisible, negative volumes: absence is endured, manipulated, produces new rhythms, structure and syntax. The language here, in Kox’s world of materials estranged and intimate, is one of accretion and entropy . A world — which is also our world — this world — the world — in which chains bind and link disparate matter, suspend and swing and conjure as many absent metonymies as they can bear.

— Emily LaBarge