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
3 November 2017 – 18 February 2018, Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo, Turin
Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo presents Letdown, a solo exhibition of Sanya Kantarovsky which will include existing and new works produced specifically for the occasion.
Kantarovsky, who was born in Moscow in 1982 and emigrated to the United States as child, has often used his work to measure his experience living under communism in the waining years of the Soviet Union against his experiences in the Western world. Using architecture as a both a metaphor and a framing device, the exhibition at Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo renders these two aesthetic and political polarities in high relief, setting a stage for a new body of paintings which transmit a range of unsavory and brutal experiences.
There are tens of thousands of the same building in Russia, each containing eighty apartments. They were designed by consensus – a committee of architects determined a standard of living and trimmed it down to its most essential pillars. These structures were referred to as K-7s or Khruchevki, after Nikita Khrushchev, who hastily commissioned them in response to a severe housing shortage. Built cheaply and quickly throughout Russia from pre-fabricated panels of cast concrete, they thrust their occupants, both physically and mentally, into an endlessly replicable, uniform space.
Kantarovsky’s exhibition unfolds in front of a painted image of a half demolished Khrushchyovka. Filling the Foundation’s austere minimalist space – designed by architect Claudio Silvestrin – the mural inadvertently measures a high form of contemporary architecture against the economy and violence of Soviet public housing. Kantarovsky’s paintings hang atop the housing block, their rectilinear frames echoing the building’s tiled slab façade.These paintings are themselves a geometric frame for brutality– full of painful, doubt-ridden and feeble experiences, bodies contorted in submission. Each is its own prefabricated arena for pushing, pulling, abrading, rinsing and erasing.
The presence of the Khrushchyovka, along with the steel playground turtles – cherepashki – that often accompanied them, gives the impression that these paintings could be windows into a claustrophobic home or tears in a social fabric. Are the figures within tenants of the building? A mother’s child, leaden and flush with rosacea, causes her to stoop to the point of falling as he reaches for the last drops of her milk. Her frame buckles; her scraped knees indicating that it isn’t the first time. This painting shares its title, “Letdown”, with the exhibition as a whole. At odds with itself, like many of its counterparts, ‘letdown’ refers to oppositional emotions: a letdown being both a disappointment and a release of breast milk in a nursing mother. This paradoxical simultaneity of dismay and fulfillment assembles as the central theme of the exhibition.