ANDY BOOT
C C

28.11.2014 - 14.02.2015


Heartland (CASA DE DAVI) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 142.4 x 86 x 21 cm


Installation view


South Beach (Kemosabie) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 150.5 x 60 x 33 cm


South Beach (Kemosabie) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 150.5 x 60 x 33 cm


Paris (cybertrips) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 131 x 42 x 32 cm


Installation view


Eureka (capcrew) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 128.6 x 33 x 20 cm


Eureka (capcrew) 2, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 114.4 x 42 x 32 cm


Heartland (frankn) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 163.9 x 45 x 30 cm


Eureka (capcrew) 3, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 139.4 x 63.8 x 45 cm


Installation view


Paris (cybertrips) 2, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 155.5 x 50 x 28 cm


Installation view


Heartland (CASA DE DAVI) 2, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 161.2 x 45 x 27 cm


Heartland (aka Jeff) 1, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 134.2 x 40.6 x 45 cm


South Beach (Kemosabie) 2, 2014, concrete, UV-print on metal mesh, metal, 127 x 31.6 x 45 cm


Installation view

Press release

The letter C has a pleasant and simple form — basically a round shape or circle,
opened on one side. Its doublet, CC, in common contemporary use, is a
function in e-mail programs to co-send to multiple recipients. The name derives
from the old analog technique of the carbon copy, referring to a usually bluepigmented
paper that was used to copy a handwritten or typed action, an individualized
and simple method of reproducing. Considering the existing abbreviations
in digital media, CC could also stand for the Spanish/Italian double affirmation
“Si, Si,” either showing deep approval or disregard.

Andy Boot is a stoic artist, with a finely tuned and reduced output, in which
time and again patterns loom large. A pattern is a discernible regularity,
where forms, symbols, and colors repeat in an anticipated manner. What underlies
the pattern, what shapes its character and interval, would be its grid. A
bigger part of Boot’s work circles around those patterns, or symptomatic surfaces
say — forms, symbols, shapes, and colors appearing on the skin of things,
and the reasons that bring them there.

In his current show at Croy Nielsen, Boot deals with patterns carried out by
scrap-like objects. The patterns, building the chorus of this show, appear on
printed metal sheets. They are rooted in the customized backgrounds of Geo-
Cities, a former Web host for personalized homepages. GeoCities peaked at the
end of the nineties, in sync with the dot-com bubble, was acquired by Yahoo!,
and collapsed in 2009, by which time Myspace and, finally, Facebook had already
taken over. Many of the sites came in a digital, collage-like 90s look, garnished
with GIFs, and still haunt the Web today as retro chic. For its time,
GeoCities had a symptomatic, simplified logic, divided into sections or “neighborhoods,”
with themes of professional and private everyday associations, that
were reinterpreted, such as “Capitol Hill” as a political section, “Vienna” as
the classical music area, “Pentagon” and so on.

Some of the patterns used as backgrounds for the sites mirror the themes; other
ones are just abstract, colorful, and pixelated. An arbitrary selection of six
of them are to be found in the show, taken from an actual online archive showing
a cross section of former sites. Flipping through this — of the millions of
sites, only hundreds were archived — some of them have a professional intent,
e.g., private car rentals. Many of them are quite random attempts, ranging from
Black Ninjas, Winnie the Pooh, and a high amount of fantasy related contents or
just blog-ish personal introductions involving cats and dogs.

Boot manufactured sculptures with fine fabric-like, metal grids, quite carelessly
bowed and dipped into concrete rectangles. We see groupings and constellations
of these handbag-sized objects, like roughly crafted hints on classic
pop cultural clichés of a “matrix,” where animated things evolve from woven
digital grids. But for a more analog observer, the objects could also just remind
you of tissue boxes changing shape every time you pull.

Benjamin Hirte