Ryan Trecartin

Ahead of his exhibition at the KW Institute for Contemporary Art, Berlin, the LA based artist talks to Gesine Borcherdt about his speedy, narcissistic, smartphone-slick hysteria films and the system behind the apparent chaos

By Gesine Borcherdt

Item Falls, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London Center Jenny, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London Junior War, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London Junior War, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London Center Jenny, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London Center Jenny, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London Item Falls, 2013. Courtesy the artist; Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York; and Sprueth Magers, Berlin & London

In art there seems to be a rule that states: the crazier the work, the nicer the artist. John Bock, for example, speaks about his psychedelic B-movie massacres with the calmness of someone spreading Nutella on his bread at breakfast. Cindy Sherman poses in her city apartment for home decoration magazines, yet can appear, in her work, to resemble an abused doll. And then there’s Mike Kelley, the pope of camp, whose films might include any number of crude expressions,…

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