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"The Sorrows of Young Wynd"
(in the South Gallery) Viktor Wynd

December 5th – March 3rd, 2007
Opening Receptions Saturday, December 9th 7:00-11pm

“Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burnèd is Apollo’s laurel bough” Marlowe

In a darkened room hangs the corpse of the artist whom love and the world have conspired to kill. The corpse is surrounded by languidly fluttering butterflies, moths and exotic invertebrates, which occasionally join the artist in his pact with death by dive bombing the candles. On the wall are pinned his last inconclusive, and often unfinished drawings, notes and rambling last testament. 

Eerily two of his last photographic works are hung, each representing suicides, joined by two slender suites of drawings, one of suicide victims and the other of noted suicides. A large vanitas photo reminds us that we all must pass, whilst everywhere there are dead and dying orchids, and a shrine to the dead artist, containing his plaster death mask, whilst lying, abandoned on the floor are head casts, straight from the river Styx, and the sickly sweet smell of death assails ones senses.

In this new body of work Viktor Wynd wryly commentates on the romantic movement, what was originally intended as a critique, much in the spirit of Leonardo Alenza y Nieto’s “Satire on Romantic Suicide,” hoping to demonstrate the shallowness of individualism, the vacuity of the cult of the original and the obsession with the self, instead limps, characteristically unsuccessfully, towards being a celebration of all the values that Viktor Wynd most hates - a telling indictment of what Isaiah Berlin called the tyranny of art over life..