Alex Da Corte’s skeleton of a neon city shifts the White cube of the Secession into a hazy twilight. It carries the wrinkles of a life lived, the ghosts of human presence. To quote Oscar Wilde in The Picture of Dorian Gray, “Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man’s face. It cannot be concealed.” Velvet-clad walls and a patchwork carpet that covers the floor with its template pattern give the setting a soft touch. Various objects and sculptures assembled in Doctor Frankenstein’s spirit are scattered on the floor. Set in a quiet sitting area, a video is screened every 20 minutes: a shot-for-shot remake of Jørgen Leth’s The Perfect Human (DK, 1967). Slow Graffiti, Da Corte’s interpretation of this film features the artist masked as Boris Karloff and Frankenstein’s monster to a score by Devonté Hynes.
Slow Graffiti radiates softness, vulnerability, mutability, and transience—like the verve of an invisible city, one that exists only in someone’s imagination but that takes shape here. Against the backdrop of today’s accelerated digital world, the exercised care and communal spirit of making can be considered a radical act of transgression.
Courtesy of Maccarone, New York, Gió Marconi, Milan and David Risley Gallery, Copenhagen. Photos by Sophie Thun