To Name A Few
27 April – 22 June 2019, Tanya Leighton, Berlin
Preview: Friday, 26 April 7–9 pm
I am sitting here with this feeling, and it is a familiar feeling, and it is my heart.
I am needing to reassure myself that I am not writing this letter to you, that I am
just writing it, simply writing it, simply letting it wander out.
I feel sad. My heart, my chest, what fills my chest, something like the taste of
copper, like sucking on a penny, like licking a 9 volt battery and getting a little
shock. It’s here, a little shock.
It has never been so apparent, the workings of shame embedded in my being so
old and outside, yet all the same my own deep thing to tend to, untangle, air out
And I guess it’s true, now I am writing to you. I am writing to you from me and
also to myself.
But isn’t that a letter?
The linear scroll is scraping against the pavement.
In my delusions I am literally some kind of a hero and that is embarrassing.
What holds the reigns, I think of some force, nameless, shapeless within and
outside this bodily container. Sending signals into outer space and actually
I can tell you the joy of this spring day, the brightness of 4PM light, the spirits
that burst through at this time. It’s almost too much of a drunken feeling to
manage. It’s almost too much.
There is my heart again. You know, I haven’t been able to feel my heart in so
And now I pause, and just stare at my hands, still on the board.
And in this moment I decided this letter is no longer for you, because I know
that you don’t want it.
This letter is for my heart, and I can say anything to my heart.
Right now, I am saying to my heart, I am sorry. I am sorry that I wrapped you up in cotton batting and put you away all tampered down and quiet. I am sorry that I hid you from myself, that I turned away from you while we were sleeping, and on purpose, many times.
I am sorry that I turned away from you, my heart. My beautiful, my tender, my sensitive, my loving, my strong, strong heart. And I am so sorry that I put you to rest so often as to no longer feel anything between my ribs and the sky.
To Name a Few
Tanya Leighton, Berlin
Gallery Weekend 2019
26 April – 22 June 2019
David Diao, 2018
Delmonico books — Prestel
With contributions from Philip Tinari, Michael Corris, Pi Li, Sarah K. Rich, Felicia Chen, Kerry Doran
Recipient of the 2019 Arnaldo Pomodoro Sculpture Prize
Solo exhibition opens in Fall 2019
Galleria d'Arte Moderna, Milan
Phaidon Contemporary Artist Series
Text by Julia Bryan-Wilson, Jeannine Tang, and Lanka Tattersall
...and other such stories
Chicago Architecture Biennial
Chicago Cultural Center
19 September 2019 – 5 January 2020
Fondazione Morra Greco, Naples
Tanya Leighton is delighted to announce that the Museum of Modern Art, New York has acquired Marianne Wex's Let's Take Back Our Space: 'Female' and 'Male' Body Language as a Result of Patriarchal Structures, 1977
Tanya Leighton Gallery, Berlin, established in 2008, is dedicated to developing a cross-disciplinary, trans-generational gallery programme with off-site projects, in collaboration with artists, filmmakers, critics, art historians, and curators. Its international exhibition programme reflects a variety of opinions and practices as well as Leighton’s associations with American and British experimental cinema, artist’s film and video, performance, minimal and conceptual art.
Director: Simon Gowing
Director: Patrick Armstrong
Project Manager: Marie Egger
Gallery Manager: Jessica Aimufua
Registrar: Henry Babbage
Finance Manager: Stefan Schuster
Tanya Leighton GmbH
Kurfürstenstraße 156 & 24/25
Open Tuesday – Saturday
11am – 6pm and by appointment
Ben Schumacher and Carlos Reyes, Bradley Kronz, Dena Yago, Jason Matthew Lee, Keith Farquhar, Marlie Mul
Day Before This Place
6 August – 7 September 2013, Tanya Leighton, Berlin
That morning, as the band of the treadmill moved at six miles per hour beneath her trainers, a news story flashed on the screen suspended from the low hanging drop-ceiling. “Chinese Woman Stuck Between Walls Mistaken For A Ghost, Rescued 7 Hours Later.”
That evening, outside of the opening, a pack was opened and presented to her.
Relaying the story: “She was walking home, trying to take a shortcut in some province in China. She was halfway down the alleyway when she couldn’t move any further. She couldn’t go forward or backwards. I’m not really sure how that happens, but it happened.”
Pause, and the passing of a cigarette from one hand to another.
“The tenants of the buildings on either side of her thought that her cries for help were the cries of a ghost transitioning into the afterlife.”
Thin smoke traveled upwards from the cigarette's resting place.
“The tenants called the cops, saying there was a ghost between their walls. The cops ignored them. God, she spent the night just pancaked in those walls.”
The smoke trail had thinned.
“It wasn’t until the next morning when this “passerby” also heard her calling for help, that the cops finally responded.”
Secondary drag of a shared cigarette.
“I don’t really get what make’s this passerby a passerby; it’s not like they just passed her by while they were also taking this alleyway shortcut. How do you pass by a woman that’s sandwiched in an alleyway.”
Smoke drawn inwards, and the cigarette placed gently on a sliver of metal, unextinguished.
“Doesn’t really make sense.”
The powdered grey ash fell, indistinguishably, into the dirty snow below.
“I’ve had that feeling in New York, where we have entrances with two doors and one buzzer. You press the buzzer, wait until you’re buzzed in, only to find that the interior door needed to be buzzed as well. You hadn’t moved quickly enough to push both doors simultaneously. And you’re stuck. You need to go back outside to buzz again, holding the exterior door open as you reach outside to buzz, and then move quickly enough to open both doors. Or you’re stuck and have to call your friend to buzz again, or come down to meet you at the interior door.”
The cigarette was extinguished leaving a dense charcoal ring on the metal sliver that went unnoticed.
New York City