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
26 November 2015 – 27 February 2016, Tanya Leighton, Berlin
Tanya Leighton is pleased to announce an exhibition of new and recent works by legendary artist-filmmaker John Smith, his fourth solo exhibition at the gallery. In SIGN LANGUAGE, Smith presents two videos: White Hole, 2014 and Steve Hates Fish, 2015. These videos are joined by two framed reliefs titled One State Solution, 2015 and Plasticine Flag, 2015, which are sculpted from the eponymous modeling material.
The political and conceptual locus of the exhibition, White Hole, is constructed from one solitary image, pictured alternatingly in both positive and negative. Dependent on when the viewer enters the screening room, the video will either confound or engage. Half of the six-minute seamless loop is accompanied by an unintelligible voiceover, which at the start sounds like an inscrutable foreign language, but after a few moments of listening reveals itself to be reversed English. This soundtrack accompanies viewers on an uncharacteristically slow journey to the end of a train tunnel, eventually giving way to bright, unblemished white. But the train continues on, a tiny black speck appears on the horizon, and this time we hear the artist speaking to us.
With characteristic calm, Smith describes his only visit to a communist country – Poland in 1980. As a young leftist based in Great Britain just after the election of Margaret Thatcher, Smith recalls being pleasantly surprised by the lack of advertising signs, finding it amusingly difficult to determine from their window displays what shops were selling. By contrast, most Poles that Smith met longed for the capitalism of Western democracy. The artist then takes us 17 years forward to Leipzig, well after the fall of the Iron Curtain and just after the election of Tony Blair in Great Britain. The former East German city seemed to be flourishing under capitalism, yet growing unemployment and income disparity had fostered feelings of disquiet among the city’s residents, who coined a new aphorism – they felt like they could see ‘a tunnel at the end of the light’, just like that experienced by many British socialists after their initial enthusiasm for Blair’s ‘New Labour’.
Smith has long engaged with the concept of misunderstanding – be it ideological, political, linguistic, or misunderstanding that arises from subjective narration, filmic devices, and our relationship to the media that shape our view of the world. Smith’s latest video, Steve Hates Fish is an exploration in manufactured misunderstanding. By deliberately confusing the popular ‘Word Lens’ translator app for smartphones, which translates text in real time using the phone’s camera, Smith recasts the shop signs in his local neighbourhood as a bazaar of dada-ist plays-onwords. The jumpy, often useless jumble of words onscreen inspires a kind of empathy. Watching the app search its memory for a corresponding translation is somehow not far from the futility of trying to make heads or tails of signage in a country where one does not speak the language.
Alongside Steve Hates Fish are Smith’s two Plasticine reliefs, the most overtly political pieces in the exhibition. Plasticine Flag is simply that — a Palestinian flag sculpted from unaltered lengths of coloured Plasticine. One State Solution uses the colours of both the Palestinian and Israeli flags to spell ‘PALESTEIN’ in block capital letters. For an artist who has long engaged with politics – those both as local as neighbourhood house demolitions and as global as international border disputes – Smith’s directness presents a stark political imperative: act now and direct the course of the future away from the tunnel at the end of the light.
John Smith’s work has been widely shown internationally for more than three decades. It is regarded for its formal ingenuity and its ability to combine compelling narrative with an acute observation of the everyday, often subverting the boundaries between documentary and fiction. As Smith puts it, ‘...if you look hard enough all meanings can be found or produced close to home’.