The gallery has left the gallery. They went to go look at 17th-century Dutch paintings in the Louvre; to return to tradition. Who doesn’t, these days? However, when they arrived at the Pyramid, they were not allowed into the museum. Initially rejected on the grounds of being too contemporary, they were later told that buildings simply can’t enter buildings. So they borrowed a scooter and rode it all the way back here to Pigalle, and drank away their sorrows in the middle of the gallery, crammed up against the ceiling, feeling very tense—but tension and frustration can be great for creativity.

If these walls could talk, what would they have to say about us? And what do paintings dream of?
It is hard for a person to change and even harder for most artworks. There are eleven paintings of raccoons in this exhibition, but only one is hung up at a time. They are paintings that express themselves, which speak to you; they complain a lot. They were tired of art so they changed into something else. One is a policeman, who enforces the law.
Another, a chef, who longs for a world without rules; there are so many rules now in art. Another is a pilot, high up above the clouds, alone in the clear blue sky, free from all the worries down here. There is a drag-queen authoritarian, a construction worker, a painting grown so bored of themself they became a DJ. There is a delicate little flower that longs to die, not wanting to last for eternity; a broken painting, a devil swallowing souls, an investment banker who’s switched sides, a voyeur who watches you back from the wall. The painting keeps changing; they are just going to change.

Two chimeric bodybuilders, joined at the shoulder, bench press together with two chests. They wish to change also, lifting heavy weights to feel in control, to become stronger and no longer be looked at like freaks, or degenerates. They want to escape all the weight of the world.

There are twin abstract paintings. One seems to be an expression of the artist’s interiority, his feelings smeared across the canvas in thick, dirty impasto; the other’s just a copy of the original, a reproduction of some emotions, replicated splotches and gestures, a painting of a painting. Or is it the other way round? How can such an image speak to you? The first contains a slideshow of details of itself, particular phrases of expression, and posts its highlights upon its own surface; the other uses content-aware fill to extend itself, to keep copying and growing through artificial intelligence. They want to hang together for as long as they can. They never want to let each other go.

A gallery goes for a walk around the city. Some paintings keep swapping themselves out for others. Everything is moving, in a state of transformation. The gallery is tired of being a gallery, and the paintings have grown weary of being paintings. I can relate, because I am an art critic who doesn’t want to write about art anymore; it does nothing to satisfy the yearning in my heart. (Perhaps I’ll still write the odd press release though…) This is a show about longing for change: dreams of how else life might be, of becoming something else.

– Dean Kissick

Philipp Timischl was born in 1989 in Graz, Austria. He currently lives and works in Paris, France. Recent solo and duo exhibitions include: Museum für Gegenwartskunst Siegen, Siegen, Germany; Heidelberger Kunstverein, Heidelberg, Germany; Fondation Fiminco, Paris, France; Secession, Vienna, Austria; Fondation d’entreprise Pernod Ricard, Paris, France; Halle für Kunst, Lüneburg; Galerie Emanuel Layr, Vienna, Austria; Neue Alte Brücke, Frankfurt, Germany; 21er Haus, Vienna, Austria. Group exhibitions include: National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia; Neuer Kunstverein Wien, Vienna, Austria; Frac Nouvelle-Aquitaine MECA, Bordeaux, France; Heidi Horten Collection, Vienna, Austria; Layr, Vienna, Austria; Biennale of Contemporary Art, Lyon, France; Kunsthalle Bratislava, Bratislava, Slovak Republic; MAK, Vienna, Austria; Belvedere 21, Vienna, Austria; Air de Paris, Paris, France; Kunsthalle Bern, Switzerland; Dortmunder Kunstverein, Dortmund, Germany; Serpentine Gallery, London, United Kingdom.