Can is an exhibition space run by artists. Decisions concerning what is being shown are influenced by such common notions as solidarity, curiosity and formal appreciation—mostly the love of art.
The Artists Alone Decide was the title of American artist Bradley Kronz’ 2015 Mathew Gallery Berlin solo exhibition. It stuck with us and we never forgot about it. Kronz says: “In fact, I took it from the jazz/avant-garde record label ESP-Disk. All their releases have printed on the artwork: ‘The artists alone decide what you will hear on ESP-Disk.’” You can take this any way you want. Maybe the cynical reading is that of the artist’s primal bondage; the romantic one, a little more jester-like—which is probably why we’re still here—is that of the artist’s stubborn freedom. Recently, in a conversation with our friend and artist Andrew Green, we talked about a pair of words to describe the persistent tension between artist and audience: pretentious and cringe. The first is an attempt at intellectual or formal aloofness, a defense against perception or apprehension. The second aims at ingratiation. Both sound shit. Don’t think we think there’s any escape. Let us give you an example: at Can, we pretentiously refuse to have a door sign. However, because we want to be loved, we insist on serving free beer.
