Antoine Donzeaud
Antoine Donzeaud, Broken Windows, 2020
Glass, spray paint, MDF
47 x 51 x 5 cm
Inquire

Antoine Donzeaud
Attempt at Rapprochement, 2020
Georg Kargl, Vienna

Antoine Donzeaud
Antoine Donzeaud, Broken Windows, 2020
Glass, spray paint, MDF
47 x 51 x 5 cm each
Inquire

Antoine Donzeaud
Attempt at Rapprochement, 2020
Georg Kargl, Vienna

Antoine Donzeaud
Attempt at Rapprochement, 2020
Georg Kargl, Vienna

Antoine Donzeaud
Attempt at Rapprochement, 2020
Georg Kargl, Vienna


Attempt at Rapprochement, 2020
Lenora de Barros, Katrina Daschner, Antoine Donzeaud, Herbert Hinteregger, Anna Holtz, Mercedes Mangrané, Agnieszka Polska, Rosa Rendl, Liddy Scheffknecht, Julian Tromp, Nadim Vardag

SMS from the future circa 2045

I offer you this mea culpa. @this pang this moment this sensation this thought is all that I have. It is precocious and incomparable. My convictions are many-excuse my timeless form. The Kevlar™ blanket makes me invisible and the performance shimmers.

This being is the mirror of my soul. #And so I ask you for this postulation on external realities. The antechamber of our art ‘tis well and fine. Its mood and reverie are palpable. Whence came the disillusion came the scorn of ideas and disdain of icons. And so we reinvent the causalities of art with another representation. Dissimilar prosthetics are the carriages of its rules and precepts. No more do we spill the wine. We pick the flowers of the forsaken ones and prize their repose.

Rejoice. The burden hath delivered us. Hubris seems remote from the abstractions and synthesis of a charged atmosphere. Of portentous events it is certain that it touches the ether. The body speaks its fluted language the blossoms shelter us. Contingency begets contingency. The hierarchy switched poles, a new mapping system is born. We are strengthened by the audacity of precedent to replenish the fields of an astonishing landscape.

Thus these symbols# these punctuations° and characters owe their neural ping to the distinct presence of a lucid sensation. Forged from the cauldron of tellurian upheaval the oratory is rich in opulent colors. The strange vapour has evaporated. Lead turns to gold.

– Max Henry