To look at Rhys Ziemba’s works – seemingly arbitrary objects and symbols crowding the foreground and disturbing the view – is to be prompted. You want to keep looking. The paintings themselves are quiet but are brimming with language. Layers upon layers of references and narratives are shown as heaps in a landscape but their meaning is held in suspension. For Ziemba, assembling meaning is something rife with playful contradiction, something which nevertheless carries significant philosophical weight. “I paint nature even though I don’t believe in nature.”
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