[…] Like bog bodies, preserved in marshland and pulled out centuries after their death, they appear to be at the same time full bodies and flattened, deformed representations of these same bodies. Neither fully here nor there, they seem to haunt us like zombies or ghosts, like memories of bodily sensations we prefer to forget—manifestations of our base selves. They remind us of those weak moments in which we are ashamed of ourselves and slightly repulsed by our own idleness and ignorance, our heinous feelings and vile instinctive reactions. Unlike the picture of Dorian Gray, however, they do not show the unfiltered ugliness of the dark side of our souls in its gruesome entirety. Instead, they look like the sickly sweet self-disgust we feel in our stomachs after all feelings of repulsion and self-hate have been digested by our undiminished self-love. There is a lot of comedic sympathy for the inept, awkward, greedy—but still lovable—idiot in Te Nicklin’s work.
[…] fat flowers, cut out from the same construction plastic sheets used for the glue works, are distributed on the floor. The naïve natural environment of the drawings seems to enter the real space of the exhibition and involve its audience. Pieces of trash among the flowers bring to mind humankind’s careless and harmful negligence toward nature, destroying any semblance of an idyllic ambience. In the room of the glue collages, the metal panels—some of them empty—confront visitors with their own reflection. The hazy, distorted shapes that are thrown back at you do not allow for a clear image, but they do give you a sense of your own presence and that of other people in the exhibition space. There is a vague kind of resonance that activates you, draws you in. This is not about somebody else—the ignorant others that we must fight.This is about you, me, all of us. Humans.
excerpts from text by Michael Wonnerth-Magnusson
Pictures Neven Allgeier