Critique

Critique

Tinka Bechert, Handlanger, 2018, 120 x 100cm, acrylic, collage and mixed media on raw canvas; image courtesy of the artist and The RHA.

‘UPHOLD: New Collections’

35DP, 35 Donegall Place, Belfast. 3 – 20 November 2022

John Rainey, Erroneous Restoration Study #1 2022, Jesmonite and 3D Print; photograph by Chad Alexander, courtesy of the artist and Household.

Tara McGinn, Spilled Milk #7 2022, Terracotta clay, acrylic paint, polymer relief outliner (various), gilding wax, gloss varnish; photograph by Chad Alexander, courtesy of the artist and Household.

SOMEBODY TURNED TO me and said: “It’s like when you see a gallery opening in an American film; it looks a bit like this.” We were three floors up, not quite a New York loft, rather a high-spec office block, with metallic flooring, industrial lighting, and whitewashed brick walls. Situated on Belfast’s main thoroughfare – and offering views over the city through floor-to-ceiling windows – the venue was buzzing on opening night with curators, artists, and potential collectors. On the walls, plinths, and floor was an impressive array of artworks by artists based in Northern Ireland. Yet, as they say, nobody had any ‘notions’ about themselves: prices started at just £10, with many pieces under £100, and I can’t remember the last time I saw Turner Prize-winning artists pouring the wine. This was ‘UPHOLD: New Collections’, the first physical exhibition by ‘UPHOLD’, a relatively new initiative by collectively-led art organisation, Household.

Household is run by independent curators Jane Butler, Ciara Hickey and Alissa Kleist. Their project, ‘UPHOLD’, emerged as the pandemic left artists suddenly without exhibition or residency opportunities. Taking inspiration from the Arts Council of Ireland (who funded several national institutions to buy contemporary art during the lockdowns), they began with ten artists, inviting them to showcase pre-existing work, available for sale, on a new online platform. Funding from the Arts Council of Northern Ireland and Belfast City Council allowed the project to expand, and new members were each paid an artist’s fee and a materials budget to create a new edition. There are currently 25 individual artists and two collectives. The not-for-profit model means that artists receive 80% of any subsequent sales, with the remaining 20% going back into the organisation to cover costs.

Alongside visual artists like Mark McGreevy, UPHOLD make a point of including those who tend to work in performance or installation (such as Array Collective or Michael Hanna), asking them to consider something commercial within their practice; there is a set of beer mats from Array’s The Druthaibs Ball (2021), and Hanna’s Yellow Uh Oh (2022), a handmade vacuum

form. Others are encouraged to reimagine work in a reproducible format in a way that does not compromise their practice. For example, a Phillip McCrilly’s wall painting (originally shown in CCA Derry-Londonderry) is recreated as a series of limited-edition silkscreen prints; while Rachael Campbell-Palmer’s sculptural pieces are presented as scaled down versions of her larger works, using similar forms and materials.

The Household team want to grow a culture of collecting art in Northern Ireland and for every edition that is commissioned, they keep an artist’s proof, so that they are also building a collection. The website encourages visitors to think beyond “a simple domestic decoration” towards “art that is […] intriguing, provocative, relevant, compelling, beautiful…”. This is facilitated by a streamlined online purchasing process, offering framing where relevant, and detailed photography that not only showcases individual pieces but also envisages them in domestic settings. That being said, it’s not all ‘sell, sell, sell’ – artist profiles are provided with statements on individual pieces, making the website just as much a resource for curators.

The ‘UPHOLD: New Collections’ exhibition comprised primarily the new editions described above (currently there are 20), with each artist given free rein on how they chose to interpret the brief. For example, there were glitchy, patterned, knotted-wool pieces mounted on board from Grace McMurray with titles referring to grief and feeling out of one’s depth; a grid of 12 mini, abstract, layered canvases by Susan Connolly from her series ‘Traces of an activity 21’; an edition of digital prints and 3D-printed and Jesmonite sculptures by John Rainey, referencing antique Graeco-Roman sculpture and exploring how museums display, restore, and acquire such works; photographic pieces from Jan McCullough recording site-specific studio experiments (and strangely reminiscent of Las Meninas by Velázquez); or a series of custom-printed mugs by Jennifer Mehigan with textual references to sources like the Irish Queer Archive and Famine-era print media. Incidentally, Mehigan was one of two artists (along with Emma Wolf-Haugh) invited to respond to

themes from the 2022 Outburst Queer Arts Festival.

Subtle curatorial decisions throughout were also a delight – such as the neon touches of reflective materials in Jill Quigley’s photographs being picked up in Susan Hughes’ screen-print employing, maritime high-visibility paint; or the grid pattern of a tablecloth in Thomas Wells’s installation interacting with a galvanised steel mesh flooring panel in work by Katie Watchorn – and in turn with the metallic floor of 35DP. The venue was on three-week loan from Haller-Clarke, a consultancy firm working with existing and new ‘good developers’, to value art in its capacity to introduce people to space and place. Aware of Household’s work and with similar aims and values, they knew it would be a good fit.

The plan for ‘UPHOLD’ is to add five new artists every six months, funding them to create more editions, and ultimately to continue to demonstrate the range and quality of work being produced in Northern Ireland while encouraging people to buy and collect. Another exhibition is planned for 2023.

Jonathan Brennan is a multidisciplinary artist based in Belfast.

jonathanbrennanart.com

‘UPHOLD’ is a not-for-profit online platform for selling and promoting work made by contemporary artists based or working in Northern Ireland.

upholdart.co.uk

Grace Dyas, ‘A Mary Magdalene Experience’

Rua Red Gallery 4 November 2022 – 3 February 2023

Grace Dyas, A Mary Magdalene Experience 2022, film still; image courtesy of the artist and Rua Red.

A MARY MAGDALENE Experience is a sharp and witty film installation by artist and activist Grace Dyas. The work was commissioned as part of the Magdalene Series at Rua Red, curated by director Maolíosa Boyle, that to date has featured solo exhibitions by artists Amanda Coogan, Alice Maher and Rachel Fallon, and Jesse Jones. In this work, Dyas collaborated with a team of women artists and activists including Clare O’Connor, Susan Quirke, Ella Clarke, and Jaro Waldeck. Dyas’s provocative, community-engaged works do not shy away from challenging topics that affect working-class communities. Adopting a feminist liberation theology perspective, A Mary Magdalene Experience draws inspiration from the Gospel of Mary, a gnostic gospel that offers what some understand as evidence of Mary Magdalene’s participation in the intellectual and spiritual Christian tradition and signals her suppression by patriarchal Church authorities. Consequently, the dynamics of power and silencing resonate throughout the work.

Entering the installation, the solemnly lit Gospel of Mary is displayed on large sheets of paper. A small pink rock, like a talisman, is on a nearby wall shelf, while inside a pink cove, a large mysterious rock containing Mary Magdalene’s essence releases an inner glow. In the second gallery, the film, starring Jordanne Jones, James O’Driscoll and Louise Lewis, screens in front of installed seating. Set in a present-day but imaginary Tallaght, where neoliberalism reigns supreme, and taking place against the backdrop of the #MeToo international social movement in response to sexual abuse and harassment, the film considers the deliberately tarnished reputation of Mary Magdalene. Tina Malone (Jones) is a sex worker engaged by John Brophy (O’Driscoll), a community activist turned politician with a ‘Jesus complex’, for A Mary Magdalene Experience. Brophy wants a woman he can save, for his own sexual pleasures, of course. But rather than play the harlot, Tina sees Mary Magdalene as a woman wilfully misaligned. John’s mother Bernie Brophy (Lewis), who pregnant at 13 received a vision that her son would offer salvation, believes John is the working class hero the world needs. She refuses to let anything thwart this, even serious allegations of sexual misconduct and abuse

of power.

Attempting to shift public opinion and resurrect his career, Brophy stages a durational tableaux vivant in Rua Red where he stands unmoving tied to a large wooden cross for three days. As a crowd gathers for Brophy’s public mea culpa, a woman stands at the foot of the cross wearing an ‘END MISOGYNY’ t-shirt. The crowd turns against him amidst cries of: “Get off the cross”, recalling the expression “get off the cross, we need the wood”, meaning no more tired spectacles of male martyrdom. But it is Tina’s captivating intervention, in a bid to vindicate Mary Magdalene, that ultimately steals the show. While Tina’s poses frequently cite art historical representations of Mary Magdalene by male artists, she becomes the creator of her own image when she bravely faces the crowd and says: “You can’t take away my demons, I am standing here with them”. The gallery’s cinema-style seating mimics a large jury box, to which viewers sit in judgement of insidious patriarchy and bear witness to the reclamation of Mary Magdalene.

The imagery of luminous Rose Quartz appearing around Tallaght becomes the literal touchstone in the film. When a woman jogger discusses with a local drug dealer its potential meanings, she cites the numerous abuses of the Catholic Church, to which he quips: “They are going to need a lot more rocks”. While Rose Quartz may represent compassion and healing, references to crack cocaine and crystal meth – drugs used as a form self-medication for some – are also evident. At night, the woman, transfixed by the rock, opens her pink bathrobe and gently presses her body against its surface. Later, in a ‘pietá moment’, Brophy’s sorrowing mother cries bitter tears in front of the quartz, while his body lies prostrate across it. Pondering the enigmatic essence of Mary Magdalene, the repeated return to the quartz as a site of contemplation, compassion and remembrance signals the multifaceted dimensions to Mary Magdalene, whom Dyas centres as a radical figure through which the potential for healing can occur.

Dr Kate Antosik-Parsons is a contemporary art historian and interdisciplinary scholar who writes about performance, gender and the body. kateap.com

Grace Dyas, A Mary Magdalene Experience 2022, film still; image courtesy of the artist and Rua Red.

‘In and of Itself – Abstraction in the Age of Images’

Royal Hibernian Academy 18 November 2022 – 29 January 2023

Sarah Wren Wilson, It's only a Game, 2022, acrylic on canvas, 150 x 120cm; image courtesy of the artist and the RHA.

Helen G Blake, Elysian Fields 2022, oil on linen, 40 x 50cm; image courtesy of the artist and the RHA.

WHAT CAN ONE say about an exhibition of abstract art? When faced with the seemingly inscrutable gestures and processes revealed in works positioned at an apparent remove from naïve representation, it’s a more than fair question, asked not only by the casual viewer, but the professional critic too. The challenge it poses is whether the asking constitutes an end or a beginning to our engagement with the abstract work presented.

A useful route out of the impasse is provided by Rosalind Krauss in her 1979 essay, ‘Grids’, which attributes to the grid an announcement of modern art’s “will to silence.”1 More precisely, she begins her discussion by describing the use of grids in modernist paintings, telling us that “the barrier it has lowered between the arts of vision and those of language has been almost totally successful in walling the visual arts into a realm of exclusive visuality and defending them against the intrusion of speech.”2 Baldly stated in today’s tech terms, modern art’s resistance to explication is not a bug: it’s a feature.

Approaching this show with Krauss in mind, we might say that the best thing to do, then, is to just look, and look closely. Upon entering the gallery, we first encounter the most atypical works of the whole bunch, a trio of wooden sculptures by Michael Warren, in which a delicate tension is maintained between formal austerity and the warm seductiveness of the materials: elm, oak, Spanish walnut. To the right we see a trio of large, shaped paintings by Richard Gorman. Two ovals and a large semi-circular work, composed of multiple canvasses, build upon a well-established vocabulary of colourful geometric counterpoint, done with a playfulness made even more explicit by the title of this grouping: the dead cat bounce

Directly opposite is another trio of works, this time by Charles Tyrell; large canvasses, the paint scraped and heavily worked over, forcing the dominant greywhite muted tones to be offset by traces and hints of under-layers in black, green, red and indigo. They also mark the appearance of a particular form that re-emerges frequently in the show – the very form that, not coincidently, Krauss was most concerned with in

her essay. Tyrell’s grids here have a strong three-dimensional quality. The lines feel almost etched out of the textured foreground and the grids have a torqued undulating quality that appear quite sculptural, especially when considered alongside Ellen Duffy’s delightful, free-standing, tubular pieces made from wire grid and coloured cord, as well as Corban Walker’s characteristically precise arrangements, particularly Untitled (Stack K) (2010) and Untitled (2x3 Cut Stack @ 116 Lafayette) (2022).

Throughout ‘In and of Itself’, grids are one of those things that, once seen, can’t be unseen. They appear everywhere – here submerged, there to the forefront, at times fragmentary, and other times continuous. In a pair of large canvases by John Noel Smith, a contrast between geometric forms and loose, messy paint-runs initially directs our attention, but these gestures are unified by the underlying grid formations that appear and disappear like traces of a fifteenth-century drawing machine. Both Taffina Flood, and in particular, Tinka Bechert, utilise a multiplicity of forms and strategies in strong colours, dominated by wide brush swerves and turns on the canvas, but here and there the grid cuts through, as colours and shapes vie for dominance.

Striking a different note, Helen Blake, Ronnie Hughes, and Samuel Walsh each present works characterised by a greater focus on discipline and control. All three seem to combine strategies variously associated with artists like Agnes Martin, Bridget Riley, Sol Lewitt and Brice Marden. In each of their works, grid formations dominate the entirety of the visual field, running from edge to edge in all directions. The grid is a remarkable form in that it is simultaneously emblematic of a certain finitude – a set of defined limits and controls of space – but also suggestive of a system that can, in theory, extend and continue to infinity. This feature is at the heart of its valence for modern art since, according to Krauss, the grid can be utilised in the artwork to underpin either a centripetal logic that controls and maps all that falls with terrain of the artwork, or it can facilitate a centrifugal logic in which “the work is presented as a mere fragment, a tiny piece arbitrarily

cropped from an infinitely larger fabric.”3

Thus, Krauss is suggesting that the grid has the power to either cut off the artwork from the world around it, or to articulate a certain continuity between the work and the world. This is, I think, a valuable prism through which to view the works on show here, not only because of the grid’s prevalence, but also the manner in which the show is framed by the curator, RHA Director Patrick T. Murphy. The press release tells us that the works are wholly not representational; that they are each “self-referential; dealing with shape, colour, geometry, materiality, scale and weight” and more intriguingly, “the selection was made in the rigorous pursuit of abstraction and not the abstracted.” Self-referentiality is of course a classic statement of modern art since at least Abstract Expressionism, but a simple distinction between abstraction and ‘the abstracted’ is a little harder to unpack.

To my mind, one of the more interesting aspects, if not indeed a strength, of the show is just how hard it is to keep representation completely submerged. Grids can direct us both inwards and outwards; likewise, few works in this show seem wholly cut off from the world in which they take shape. The generally bright palette, with traces of neon and aerosol spray; the vigorous and varied movements of the paints; the use of all kinds of sculptural materials: these features animate a set of works begotten less by abstraction and more, to my mind, by the amalgamation of impressions flooding in from street and screen. Perhaps abstraction no longer stands in heroic opposition to the swamp and inundation of imagery that is the everyday. Perhaps it’s simply that our everyday experience, with its banks of screens and algorithmic intensities, has itself grown more abstract.

Aengus Woods is a philosopher and critic based in Meath.

1 Rosalind Krauss, ‘Grids’, October, Vol. 9 (Summer, 1979) p 50.

2 ibid, p 50.

3 ibid, p 60.

Kevin Mooney ‘Revenants’

Irish Museum of Modern Art 1 December 2022 – 5 March 2023

Kevin Mooney, ‘Revenants’, installation view; photograph by Ros Kavanagh, courtesy of the artist and IMMA.

Kevin Mooney, Mutator 2021, oil on canvas; photograph by Ros Kavanagh, courtesy of the artist and IMMA.

‘REVENANTS’ AT IMMA continues Kevin Mooney’s enquiry into the absence of a distinct Irish history of visual art within the dominant Anglo/European paradigm from the sixteenth to the twentieth century. Despite earlier attempts by the Roman Church, the Vikings, and the Anglo-Normans, it was the English who eventually dismantled the complex and nuanced Gaelic order by the sixteenth century, along with its rich cultural output. What followed was a period in which Gaelic culture was legally suppressed, buried within folklore, denigrated by the church, infantilised by the Anglo-Irish power base, and exported through emigration. Mooney’s project is to go back and compile a new visual lexicon of what might have been, if the English had been resisted. He mediates his research through a dazzling hybrid painting language borrowing from pre-Christian and insular art, Síle na Gigs, medieval architecture, the sagas, superstitions, and folk traditions.

‘Revenants’ brings together a tight selection of work, spanning from 2016 to 2022, in the cosy square rooms of the Courtyard Galleries at IMMA. The spaces are made homely with low lighting and feature walls of mustard, green, and pale ochres, complimenting the earthy tones in Mooney’s paintings. The six-year production period is reflected by dramatic differences in execution between works as Mooney mines his

way through research and experimentation. With skill he runs the gamut of visceral expressionism, surrealism, and trompe l’eoil realism, with good measures of cartoon humour, horror, and despair. The exhibition narrative is anchored by a small number of mythical creatures caught in a grotesque cycle of metamorphosis. Nothing of quality is lost in this amalgam of styles, due to the compelling skill and authenticity that Mooney brings to his craft.

Ilcruthach (2021) and Carrier (2021) are two giant supernatural characters – or perhaps one shapeshifting individual, as it negotiates its circumstances in varying states of vulnerability. Ilcruthach is a halfbeast hermaphrodite who sticks out its enormous torso of billowing pink flesh and exposes its genitalia. Mooney applies a sickly pink matt paint with sweeping brushwork that accentuates the naked ugly outgrowths, while the low angle view increases its monstrous deformity and floundering loss of control.

Carrier is akin to a wandering rag and bone man, his six-toed bare feet burdened with carrying a multitude of disembodied souls that cling to his torso. All that is left of them are eyes and skulls jostling to hang on until the journey ends. Both Ilcruthach and the Carrier have shrunk their heads backwards, protecting their conscious selves from this embarrassing spectacle. In Beast (2020) a donkey trots head down across the

canvas carrying skulls instead of turf. There is something ineffable or even sweet about Beast; Mooney has captured the loyal donkey in a jaunty, loosely painted silhouette, carrying its burden with positive determination. The brushwork is naïvely spirited and luscious, rendering the earthy tones of the Irish landscape.

A recurring feature of Mooney’s imagined histories are gleaming wide green eyeballs, rendered in uncanny depth and form. Despite being consistent in appearance, each eye brings an emotional tone of widely varying impact from painting to painting. Two of these, Blighters (2018-21) and Storyteller (2016), sit across from each other on walls of grey-cream and dark mustard respectively. Storyteller is a portrait of the seanchaí Peig Sayers, presented in glowing light, like a sacred heart; it is visible at the furthest point of the passage that connects the four exhibition rooms. Her likeness is minimal, represented by a shawl, hair, tobacco pipes and a pair of eyeballs embedded in a background of layered patterns, shapes and spirals. Its design structure, clarity and three-dimensional depth is tactile and mesmerising. It is a votive and playful tribute to Peig that challenges the clichéd misery and self-pity that characterised her in the past.

Blighters depicts a group of figures eating potatoes while sitting in a field and, just like the itinerant shapeshifters, is clearly a reference to the famine. The figures are prob-

ably already dead, as indicated by the white chalk-outlined silhouettes, and a single eyeball each. Any other features are obscured by hacked paint marks and bleached by multiple swirling suns. It is a powerful work that marks out a low point of Ireland’s colonial history.

Mutator (Head) (2022) is the first work to come into view in the exhibition. Part of it comprises a curious rostrum of steps (that could have come from an old dance hall) supporting a portrait of another shapeshifting créatúr bocht. Again, it is only identifiable by its profile outline as its features warp and distort in a vortex of swirling brushstrokes. In the context of the overall selection of work chosen for ‘Revenants’, this painting points not just to absence as a key theme in Mooney’s search for indigenous Irish art, but also to a continuous struggle for presence as it glitched in and out of the historical record. The exhibition is intense and beautiful but represents a tiny portion of the vast quantity of material Mooney has accumulated. At this point Mooney (and the viewing public) deserves a larger venue with a long lead-in time and adequate financial investment to fully realise the potential of this project. I look forward to it.

Carissa Farrell is a writer and curator based in Dublin.

Brian Fay ‘The Most Recent Forever’

Limerick City Gallery of Art 1 December 2022 – 12 February 2023

Brian Fay, Vermeer The Geographer Crack drawing, 2012, pencil on paper, installation view, Limerick City Gallery of Art; photograph by Ros Kavanagh, courtesy the artist and LCGA.

Brian Fay, MJ 16, 2020, pencil on paper (on loan from the Collection of The Arts Council of Ireland) installation view, Limerick City Gallery of Art; photograph by Ros Kavanagh, courtesy the artist, Highlanes Gallery, and LCGA.

Brian Fay, Three Stages of restoration Vermeer in non-chronological order 2011, pencil on paper, installation view, Highlanes Gallery; photograph by Ros Kavanagh, courtesy the artist and Highlanes Gallery.

DRAWING IS THE opening of form, in the sense of a beginning or a departure.1 Jean-Luc Nancy has put this concept forward not as a means to an end, but as a process with many junctures. The ideas underpinning award-winning artist Brian Fay’s survey exhibition, ‘The Most Recent Forever’, generously give viewers a gateway into multiple temporalities, primarily through the medium and action of drawing.

This touring exhibition is supported by the Arts Council of Ireland Touring Award. The three-part series commenced in the Highlanes Gallery (8 October – 12 November 2022) and is due to finish at Uillinn: West Cork Arts Centre (18 February to 25 March). Works from the Limerick City Gallery of Art permanent collection by John Cage, Willem de Kooning, Andrew O’Connor, Ann Brennan, Janet Mullarney and Mainie Jellett are also showcased within the second iteration of the exhibition.

Fay interprets existing collections and responds to contexts derived from specific venues, which in turn result in situated responses. The artist offers the viewer multiple processual and research-led returns which draw special attention to time, materiality, and the problematisation of restoration. This is achieved through the adroit referencing of existing artefacts and objects. The body of works are spread across four of LCGA’s gallery spaces and reflect Fay’s invested engagement with sites and context. This is also evident in his recent residency at the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation in Connecticut, and his involvement with the Vermeer collection for the National Gallery of Ireland project, ‘After Vermeer’, in 2017.

His investigations are not premised on the initial intentions or undertakings of the creator but from the

“…process of removal and addition that the restorer enacted on the surface of the original painting.”2 This effort is clearly articulated by Fay in Three Stages of Restoration Vermeer in Non-Chronological Order (2011), a series of three graphite renderings of a section of Vermeer’s The Girl with a Pearl Earring – one of many highlights within the exhibition. Drawings based on existing and erased works by Rembrandt, Courbet, and Van Eyck validate Fay’s practice as one which does not recoil from self-insertion within the fiction of our chronological art histories and histographies. Fay’s concern is critical readings of conservation and restoration practices and the unpacking of multiple levels of intention and authenticity, especially in relation to temporal representations.

Restoration is described as ‘a compensation for losses’ by the Art Conservators Alliance.3 Fay’s work acknowledges such losses through the use of graphite, line, and hand-rendered representations of craquelure. This technique is most notable in Vermeer The Geographer Crack drawing (2012) and in his pencil drawings of nitrate film damage in Beyond the Rocks 1922 (2010). Fay’s cartographic-like compositions of damaged surfaces can be understood as further incisions on already damaged works; as representations of compromises and conflicts between time and materiality.

This engagement is most apparent in the works shown within LCGA’s South Gallery. The inclusion of Abstract Composition (n.d) by Irish modernist artist Mainie Jellett along with five of Fay’s works provides a platform for a visual and linguistic dialogue between Fay’s graphite portrait of Jellett, MJ 16 (2020), and abstract renderings which Fay derived from deterioration, perceived as flaws caused over time. Fay’s position

shifts slightly in these more recent works, where the cubist tool of translation and rotation (used by Jellett) is present. Through abstraction, distortion, rupture, fragmentation, and disjunction, imperfections are not only apparent in the materiality of the work but are also perceptible in the history of Jellet’s short life and career.

The impeccably curated exhibition and Fay’s meticulous explications on the opening night in conversation with Alice Maher, prompted the audience to consider the works in depth. Fay’s utilisation of historical artworks as a primary source resists the dangers of periodisation by focusing on “…what is still taking place, even though it is supposed to be in the past.”4 This interrogation of chronology through the lens of restoration ignites a conversation on traces – a vestige that, according to Nancy “... must always be discovered again – opened up, opened out, initiated, incised.”5

Gianna Tasha Tomasso is an artist, writer, and Assistant Lecturer in Critical and Contextual Studies in Limerick School of Art and Design.

1 Jean-Luc Nancy, The Pleasure in Drawing (Fordham University Press, 2013)

2 Brian Fay, States of transience in drawing practices and the conservation of museum artworks, Doctoral thesis, Northumbria University (2014) p 164.

3 Caitlin O’ Riordan, ‘Art Conservation: The Cost of Saving Great Works of Art’, Emory International Law Review, Vol. 32, Issue 3 (2018) p 410.

4 Martin Heidegger, Die Frage nach dem Ding (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1975) p 33.

5 Jean-Luc Nancy, The Pleasure in Drawing (Fordham University Press, 2013) p 2.