Wir lieben die Natur! Wir wollen sie erkunden, sie erfahren, ihre Brise auf unserer Haut spüren, ihren Wind in unserem Haar; sie fotografieren, auf Instagram posten. Sonnenuntergang auf den Bahamas, es war wunderbar! Am liebsten würden wir sie gar nicht mehr loslassen, diese kleinen Momente Glückseligkeit, die sie uns beschert. Die Sonne, das Meer, wunderbar! Wir waren so entspannt da draussen, es tat so gut, Wahnsinn, das sollten wir öfters tun.

There’s a print of Jorge Macchi’s that I google every half year or so, just to see if some jaded collector has tired of it. I’ll cast my net in the depths of the internet and see if it comes up with a hit. Has the sold-out lithograph (Edition of 50), originally from 2007 printed by Polígrafa Obra Gràfica in Barcelona, resurfaced on some online marketplace? Mare Tranquillitatis depicts an old-fashioned map in hues of faded turquoise. There’s a grid showing degrees of latitudes and longitudes, and the names of the oceans in Spanish – but nothing else. All land, every continent and island, has been erased, seemingly swallowed by water, and now a sea of tranquility reigns. The print, to me, is a perfect example of the juxtapositions that make up Macchi’s best works. The image hits that sweet spot between poetic and alarmist, one moment seemingly innocuous, lyrical, the next moment a seething commentary on global warming, as if the tide had turned and revealed muddy grounds.

Two of the easiest recent tricks artists have harnessed hanging exhibitions are a monochrome palette and colored lighting. In Mitchell Anderson’s current exhibition at Galerie Maria Bernheim he combines both for a purely visual double punch masking a void. The exhibition consists of three bodies of work: large paintings depicting, in line, a hand holding a rose, neon signs of different font forms reading ‘join’, and sculptural arrangements of free items removed from local streets. Nearly everything is rendered in shades of red and pink.

Full disclosure: Arathy Pathmanathan und ich sind Arbeitskolleg*innen im Helmhaus Zürich. Aber ich schreibe ja hier auch als Mitarbeiter des Helmhaus für den Blog der Kunsthalle Zürich. Das ist ein bisschen so, wie wenn ich als weisse Person über Rassismus schreiben würde.