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Rose McLaren

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.



Articles Available Online


Talk Into My Bullet Hole

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July 2015

Rose McLaren

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July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for those people?’ ‘Oh, I don’t...

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May 2014

Art Does Not Know a Beyond: On Karl Ove Knausgaard

Rose McLaren

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May 2014

Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle has an oddly medieval form: a cycle, composed of six auto-biographical books about the...

In his pencil-like embrasure, the look-out and later the gunner realised long before the easel painter, the photographer or the filmmaker how necessary is a preliminary sizing-up ‘You can see hell much better through a narrow vent than if you could take it in with both eyes at once,’ wrote Barbey D’Aurevilly, evoking the sort of squint necessary in taking aim and firing — Paul Virilio [1]     I I first saw Rabih Mroué’s work exhibited in the final gallery of the 2015 group exhibition ‘Scenes for a New Heritage: Contemporary Art from the Collection’ at the Museum of Modern Art in New York His piece The Fall of a Hair: Blow Ups (2012) was exhibited alongside an installation featuring Hito Steyerl’s video November (2004), and just outside the cavernous and minimalist installation Lament of the Images (2002) by Alfredo Jaar Mroué’s work consists of a row of seven identically sized colour inkjet prints, unframed and printed with even white borders, each over four feet tall Installed at the end of a long corridor, the works were hung by small silver clips in their upper corners against a sombre black wall, their bright borders radiating outward in the pallor of the lighting   Seen from the far end of the corridor, each image showed the discernible outline of an armed, presumptively male figure, their heads positioned in the upper third of the image, their torsos carrying down to the lower border of the frame in a fairly classical bust composition The colour of the images varied within a muted set of pastel hues Their shadows were flat and open, the tones relatively unsaturated, the sun-bleached highlights in each image nearly garish under the gallery’s spotlights They were affably textured scenes to take in from a distance – seemingly the issue of some taxonomical portrait study or other   But with each approaching step, the images shifted and warped: the exposed gloss surface of the inkjet prints picked up and refracted every incidental movement of a passing visitor, like distorted satellite reception interrupting the smoothness of a television image, even as the density of each central figure began to degrade, rather than resolve in greater and greater clarity To approach the images was to

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.

The Prosaic Sublime of Béla Tarr

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Issue No. 6

Rose McLaren

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Issue No. 6

I have to recognise it’s cosmical; the shit is cosmical. It’s not just social, it’s not just ontological, it’s really huge. And that’s why we...
Stalker, Writer or Professor? Geoff Dyer's Zona and Genre

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February 2012

Rose McLaren

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February 2012

‘So what kind of a writer am I, reduced to writing a summary of a film?’ wonders Geoff Dyer half way through Zona. Such...

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Interview

October 2015

Interview with Marine Hugonnier

Izabella Scott

Interview

October 2015

Like the figures found in a spread of Tarot cards, an artist can assume a variety of viewpoints and characters...

poetry

February 2012

Sunday

Rachael Allen

poetry

February 2012

Supermarket Warehouse This is the ornate layer: in the supermarket warehouse, boxed children’s gardens rocking on a fork-lift truck,...

poetry

Issue No. 3

The Far Shore

Michael Hampton

poetry

Issue No. 3

Windblown: gone with the summer wind. Windblown: gone with the autumn wind. Windblown: gone with the winter wind. Windblown:...

 

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