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
12 March – 13 April 2019, Tanya Leighton, Berlin
‘These Days’ seems like a natural follow-up to ‘The Early Years’, Cesarco’s last solo exhibition at the gallery. This show centres around Cesarco’s two latest videos, Learning the Language (Present Continuous I & II).
As is indicated in the title, the two works document a way of learning, which is perhaps also a mode of appropriation. Learning, more often than not, occurs through mirroring and repetition. These works, not unlike an act of citation, show the artist reading and pillaging through other people’s words. In bringing them into the fold of his own artistic production, Cesarco ventriloquizes, asking his sources to speak back to him. Mirroring is also made explicit by referencing Dan Graham’s Present Continuous Past(s), 1974, a seminal work that correlates perception, time and subject formation. ‘These Days’ includes the following works:
Learning the Language (Present Continuous I), 2018
16mm film transferred to video, colour, sound, 18:25 min
Part of a series of video portraits in which Cesarco borrows the vocabulary of the person portrayed to address some of his own recurrent concerns
(memory, repetition, regrets, etc.). In this case, the film portrays Margarita Fernández, an Argentinean pianist, performer, and music scholar. The portrait is constructed through myriad voices: Cesarco’s, Fernández’s, and also Morton Feldman’s. In addition, it includes piano interpretations of a brief section of Franz Schubert’s Andantino from the Piano Sonata No. 20 in A Major, as well as a fragmented rendition of Manuel de Falla’s Pour le tombeau de Paul Dukas.
Learning the Language (Present Continuous II), 2018
16mm film transferred to video, colour, sound, continuous loop (15:25 min
Learning the Language (Present Continuous II) recreates a scene from Jean-Luc Godard’s film La Chinoise, 1967, in which a professor, traveling on a
train, engages in conversation with one of his students. The same scene was recreated by Claire Denis in her short film Vers Nancy, 2002. In Cesarco’s work the professor’s role is played by Brazilian psychoanalyst, critic and curator, Suely Rolnik and the conversation centres around the role and uses of repetition within psychoanalytical practice.
Untitled (Double), 2018
Archival inkjet print, 34 × 42 cm
A photograph depicting a corner of the artist’s desk. An insistence on locating the artist’s practice as a practice of reading. Another stab at the trope of the studio: as institution, as critique, as perhaps outdated site of production. On the one hand, the title refers to the stacking of books and clippings that are organised in pairs, and speak of the artist’s methodology of resignifying through rearranging, reframing and citation. On the other hand, Untitled (Double) is also the visual echo, the shadow or double, of an earlier work by Cesarco, Untitled (Remembered), 2014.
Margarita’s Music Book (Spes Vitae), 2018
Archival inkjet print, 95 × 119 cm
A photograph of Margarita Fernández’s sheet music for Manuel de Falla’s Pour le tombeau de Paul Dukas. Fernández chose to perform this work for Learning the Language (Present Continuous I). She had never performed the piece publicly, and due to her deteriorating eye-sight, had to exhume it from memory. She describes the work as if the chords are metal curtains that are falling or closing. The theme of finality and death are obviously central to the music; Fernández’s selection of it models the cross-generational acknowledging that occurs (between her and Cesarco) in the video.
Black matte vinyl wall text, 22 x 28 cm
A line from T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, acts as a stage or script direction for an unidentified actor. Written when Eliot was in his twenties but speaking from the place of a middle-aged man, the poem thematises an extreme hesitancy and indecision: a paralysis produced by overwhelming anxiety about the possibility of getting things wrong.