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From: art reviews Category: Art Date: 02 October 2006 Time: 10:29 AM Review: http://www.ba-ca-kunstforum.at/en?KFSID=1967e094c4af1a28dc8a4e7a534a1d17 Sometimes you see something which is art. In the big gallery Lupertz shows paintings of thickly painted leaves on silver trees. They should be kitschy crap. They are brilliant paintings. You can't take your eyes from their irridescent patterns (the lighting or paint Lupertz has chosen makes all the painting in the show glow in a weird way). Just a couple of trees in the forest with some impasto leaves in bright colours on unprimed (?) canvas. How is that they transfix you. How is that Lupertz, a medium star of German painting, has surpassed all his other work with them. Why are they so good? At the heart of these questions is art. The experience of these paintings seems like some mind trick, an opiate acting on my sense of order, colour, depiction, a deathly spell to leave me frustrated by being seduced by some big pictures of trees. Photos or postcard will not represent them. Their glow and vitality disappears on paper or screen. They are so good, and who cares, what's it matter, they only make you realise what is missing in so much other art. This boggling feeling which is art, neither reasonable nor complete like a great novel, is inconclusive.