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From: George Harvey Webb Category: Art Date: 04 March 2009 Time: 09:00 AM Review: Knowing you Roni Horn, knowing me Alan Partridge...Ahaa, but I'm not Alan Partridge and I don't actually know Roni Horn but I have visited her exhibition at Tate Modern and I've seen various bits of photography by her over the years which stimulated my curiosity rather than spurring a desire to attend a seminal artist's work. Theres one problem with perfection, it's too imperfect, a cul de sac is entered as one approaches each perfectly framed, crafted specimen, there are no metaphorical drops of blood or footprints between each exhibit, almost the antithesis of the Basket-cases all prostrating themselves at the altar of Altermodernism, this work has the air of a hobbyist going from one technique to another, learning some skills, creating a perfect example and then phoning the agency to take the work away. Theres a slight variation on the Hirst method of distancing the maker from the product here but the impact is lost because nowhere in the exhibition is there a declaration of intent. The exhibition posits an artist who represents nothing but a flexible approach to technique, we can read the rather overly didactic drawings behind the museum case frames, every so often in this journey of processes a clue is baited ..."at the heart of Horns practice is an approach to identity that see's it as mutable and multiple rather than as single and fixed.<identity is a river>, Horn once said"......I'm guessing she regretted that...There's mind numbing word acreage galore in the tiny booklet, christ! what a muddle, best read the booklet later on the train where some one sticking their ass into your eye whilst stinking the compartment out by eating a pie (or is their trainers ?), anyway, thats the only place to read that pretentious booklet, 1. It's small enough. 2.It will balance the vile sorrounding's, 3.The train will seem perfect by comparison with the world described by Roni Horns curious desire to be good at everything she turns her hand to.