The Brooklyn Rail

The urge to seek definitive meaning in art often relies on rationalizing and deciphering artworks. Yet, not everything resides in meaning, and such approaches can constrain more personal, direct, and emotional responses. Kai Althoff’s exhibition, di costole, held in the historic port city of Genoa in northern Italy, resisted demands for interpretation by shifting the focus from contextualization to the work’s emotional impact. The exhibition’s title, di costole, (meaning “of ribs”) and the name of the space, nervi delle volpi, (or “nerves of foxes”) both chosen by the artist, were the first indication of the exhibition’s elusive and open-ended character. The titles are intriguingly ambiguous: simultaneously general and specific, they exist in a space that shifts between seeming nonsense and profundity. The exhibition did not include a press release, nor did it specify dates and titles for the works, or a defined narrative, which allowed di costole to exist in a state of ambiguity. Viewers navigated the exhibition through visual and emotional cues alone, letting the artworks function on a more visceral, non-representational level.

The biblical reference to Adam’s rib, symbolizing origin and creation, serves as a metaphor for human existence, a subjective condition rich with infinite expository possibilities. Instead of emphasizing context and categorization to highlight social and cultural commentaries, Althoff focused on eliciting deeply personal reactions from viewers. In an email exchange with me, he explained that he was “interested in everyone's answers that derive from their truly immediate emotional response. Or intellectual response, if the emotion has been smothered by all the demands to understand already.” The struggle to comprehend became central to the exhibition experience, the absence of resolution generating a heightened sense of intrigue. However, struggle should not be misconstrued as the artist’s deliberate intention. As Althoff clarified, “This is a pure painting show. Just paintings and some drawings. This is not a conceptual venture. But the lack—or presence —of concept is of no importance to me.”

Minus a prescribed narrative, focus on the visual impact of the artworks deepened. The irregular shapes of the canvases stood out as the first visual elements to capture viewers’ attention. Non-linear forms give the paintings a spatial presence, blurring the line between painting and sculpture, and evoking a sense of movement, as if the planes are expanding or contracting beyond their boundaries. Some canvases are stretched so that excess material is left hanging, creating a subtle, three-dimensional, convex effect that appears to extend toward the viewer. The irregular forms also bear visible traces of the artist’s hand—imperfect and unique—highlighting their materiality and tactile quality. Drawing attention to the paintings’ physical construction emphasizes them as objects rather than canvas “windows” into another world.

Althoff uses a diverse range of fabrics and surfaces on which to paint, including jute, wool, linen, and newsprint. His muted, earthy color palette is occasionally punctuated by bursts of bright, intense tones, giving many of these surfaces a weathered, aged, and fresco-like quality. Evoking a sense of nostalgia and introspection was fitting for the exhibition’s location on the first floor of a fifteenth-century palazzo. Thick applications of paint seem to become deeply embedded in the material surfaces, though their inherent textures remain an integral part of each composition. The layering of paint is equally significant, becoming most apparent in areas where contrasting colors are juxtaposed or where incisions are made to carve textures and patterns, defining details such as clothing or hair.

This interplay between paint and surface creates a hazy, dreamlike effect, suggesting that the scenes depicted are fragments of memory or imagination rather than fixed realities. The flatness of the figures and their interactions—or lack thereof—with one another enhances the effect. None of Althoff’s subjects engage with the viewer; many faces, particularly those on the edges of the compositions, appear blurred or obscured, resembling apparitions, memories, or shadows. Meanwhile, the more discernible figures seem to dissolve into the surroundings, such as a dark-haired boy at the center of one composition, whose green clothing blends almost imperceptibly with the background. His downward gaze is passive and inward, and despite being surrounded by others in what appears to be a social setting, he remains detached and isolated. His proximity to others feels dictated more by spatial constraints than by meaningful connection, mirroring the fragmented and elusive nature of memory and perception.

Negative spaces within the works sometimes reveal the raw, natural tones of the material beneath the paint, while at other times, they are saturated with color, like vibrant yellow, or stark contrasts, such as bold blacks juxtaposed with whites. These areas guide the viewer’s movement through the composition, functioning as interruptions that break the continuity of space and perspective in the more densely rendered sections, serving as acts of erasure or deliberate disruption. Many paintings have a spatial dimension—framed by architectural elements ranging from Renaissance-style buildings to pastoral settings and shops, for instance—that stops short of being specific, recognizable settings. This immediate disorientation gradually transforms into an appreciation of the negative spaces as moments of silence and stillness within the composition.

Althoff is primarily known as a painter; however, his past exhibitions, such as and then leave me to the common swifts at MoMA in 2016–17, have underscored the significance of installation in his work. In di costole, the installation aspect was more understated, consisting primarily of chairs and daybeds intended for audience use. But within the historic Palazzo Ambrogio Di Negro—with its frescoed ceilings, checkered marble floors, and flowy white linen curtains—the setting became the true installational component, elevating the show to a Gesamtkunstwerk, a total work of art. Genoa, historically rich yet less explored than Italy’s iconic destinations, became an integral part of the exhibition, drawing a dedicated audience whose engagement extended to the city’s cultural heritage.

Althoff’s di costole encouraged a spectrum of responses, from individually constructed narratives to instinctive, inexplicable feelings. According to Althoff, “There is no way to get it wrong or right… Why would there be demand for resolve at all? It seems almost as if there is a true fear in the incomprehensive, as if one is mocked or fooled,” an observation that underscored the exhibition’s ability to transcend conventional ideas of meaning, and instead offer a raw, unmediated experience of emotion.