Boiler Room was last weekend’s confused lover, trying its best to be intimate, but couldn’t do the work to make it so (even though you both really wanted it to).
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Both eerie and peaceful, the final room is shrouded in a velvety green amongst which his final paintings whisper rumours of Magritte's transformation. At this point, one cannot help but think back to the self-portrait that greeted them, now at odds with the viscerality of The happy donor and Man and the forest.
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As soon as you enter the space, you find that the dialectic of light and darkness is already at play. Then begins the piano, and notes that echo cavernously, consuming the space. In a haunting, projecting boom, Alice Smith begins vocalizing the words, “once again…”
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A tortured artist. A naive assistant. The child always kills the father. Pop art will kill abstract expressionism. It’s the 50s.
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