McCLelland’s signature pieces are his tapestries: Large sheafs of paper layered thick with black toner from multiple photocopying. McCLelland used to fold them up tight and stick them in his pocket for days or weeks, letting the toner fade on the fold lines, revealing the flaws in the humble low-fi technology while embracing old conceptual ideas of process-based art-making, where a final piece was ultimately a reflection of everyday activity.
As McCLelland’s reputation grew, so did the tapestries, and the three huge ones here may not have spent any time in his pocket, but their austere beauty engulfs nonetheless. Installing them here alongside Angelopoulos’s tactile, ridiculously engaging pink anemone-like sculpture Stand Up For Yourself and Pien’s Still Silent, a roughly-made wooden husk skewered by a thick orange column, Liss’s point is nicely made: Transformation can be achieved by gestures both aggressive and subtle, and in the right hands, the effect is undiminished.
...In an exhibition focused on tactility and form, Piens and AngelopoulosI make the most of revealing their mark. Their works are revealing, in this regard, in contrast with Niall McClelland, whose structural pieces operate beyond the artist’s hand. McClelland’s large “Stains” (2012) presents heavy paper, soaked in leaked inkjet ink; the resulting colors coordinate in endless kaleidoscopic patterns with such exactitude that we feel ourselves receding in their presence. Similarly, in “No Maps - Nights 1-3,” a series of huge black photocopies, the precise geometry of the creases and the laser-bright stripes of white paper both obscure and suggest the fleshy fingers that folded them...