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in the gallery

Léon Wuidar is Being Belgian

by Susi, 1 January 2019
in the gallery

The art industry has been weirder than usual during the past few years, like a blurry diagram of a spider web in the middle of some kind of sandstorm or hurricane or earthquake or flood or volcano spew. Or something. While the art industry struggles to defend its geo-capitals and fortified outposts, the wave frequency band of art has already done a global mind-meld dismissing those capitals and anointed art fortresses. The mind-meld already happened way way yesterday.

But the lumbering industrial art market and its commodity pit traders never really noticed, or strained not to. Consequently, finding exhibiting artists that matter now and will continue to matter for more than a network news cycle or two in an a-priori sort of way, has felt difficult. Depressing. Perplexing. Ominous. “End-Times”-ish.

who's afraid or red yellow and black wuidar's rigor defines neo suprematism. at white cube.

Let’s not wallow in eschatologies, though. “There’s art out there, Jim, but not as we show it,” say the best of the gallerists who can still see with one eye, and know what their left hands are doing, exactly, and why.

There’s art out there in Belgium (again). Belgium, the motherland of weirdness and rigor and hair-splitting and surrealism and beer and diamonds and chronic worry and memory and comics and comfortableness with confusion. I’ve got a whiff of the irresistible distinct stink of Belgium. I lived there, in a shuttling back-and-forth way, for several years.

So here’s Léon Wuidar, represented by White Cube gallery, a neo-suprematist descended from that grand tradition, with a show going on seven weeks already, with just two more weeks ’til it unhangs.

Wuidar is a bona fide elder artist of Belgium, a veteran of the 20th century’s writhings and warrings and programmes striving to position art in a place of utility, managed divinity, and political metaphysics made manifest.

leon wuidar, belgian elder journeyman painter, still fresh, post-neo-suprematism

Anyway, the art is good. I won’t go on about it, or drag out the rarefioed jargon of contemporary art criticism with which I was indoctrinated while studying Art History at St Andrews. It’s far too tiring. The various reviews say plenty. And Wuidar’s works say a bit more.

This all looks authentic and valid to me. Tell me I’m wrong. We’ll see in due course, barring the intervention of Armageddon, should that occur.

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