Abbzah on richie: culver: dwelling: space: nothing. Is it necessary to see a show that claims to be about nothing? Richie Culver's exhibition, Paintings About Nothing, represents one of those rare instances where the title dislocates the art from the premise of its own presentation. It engages with the philosophical, personal, and cultural dimensions of nothingness. "No Concept, No Meaning, No Genre. I am The Genre," Culver declares, setting aside the need for defined frameworks, stylistic concerns, or even overt content. The nihilistic epitaph might seem too easy to read at face value, but hidden beneath its grandiosity lies a move toward liberation— of both the artist and the viewer. It becomes a vulnerable demand to be received on a human-to-human level rather than succumbing to all the forces disfiguring us today through rampant classification. By engaging us with the idea of "nothing," Richie creates a space where absence itself becomes the site of quiet potential, where what appears void transforms into fertile ground for something else-something I will attempt to grasp from a distance, from my own nothingness in relation to the work, because I haven't seen it, I'm just really into the premise. CSM: my intro to contemporary art education began with an assignment to create work about nothing, to which I responded with a performative poem, sublimating my long-standing impulse to 'self-delete.' As a testament to my survival on the other side, I now start each academic year in the same way, requiring my students to delve into the philosophical lineage of nothingness. From existentialism to Radical Matter (insert Johnny Golding reference), we explore the emotional and psychological weight carried by this concept in a world overburdened by noise and excess. Richie's invitation to write this text on a show I haven't seen brings me to the point of beginning to formalise these ideas—a repositioning of lack as a placeholder for possibility. Not Nothing: at the heart of Richie's practice lies a fascination with the generative force of emptiness. This reframing of nothingness aligns with a broader lineage of artistic practices that have used absence, void, and minimalism to evoke a less tangible set of propositions. In Culver's case, the absence of traditional markers-concept, meaning, and genre- -display an active refusal to comply with the hyper-production of machinable meaning demanded by the contemporary art market. Philosophically this embrace of nothingness recalls the paradox articulated by (trigger warning: Nazi) Martin Heidegger, who observed that nothingness is not the opposite of being but an integral part of it. Martin's question, "What about this nothing?" invites us to examine how the human experience is shaped by the interplay between presence and absence. Culver's absence of overt narrative or concept does not lead to emptiness; instead, it creates the type of blankness that is required to see a familiar face as different; meaning-making under these conditions, invites viewers to project their own thoughts, emotions, and questions into the work. This goes beyond abstraction, requiring the viewer to do an active act of projection-how else might we be able to withstand such a confrontation with relentless void-that transforms nothingness into a generative cavern, as deep as one is willing to look, whilst facing the risk of existential vertigo. This path is well-trodden by advocates of the aesthetics of absence. Culver's artistic gesture recalls the work of predecessors like Kazimir Malevich, whose Black Square (1915) reduced painting to its most essential form, challenging audiences to reconsider the relationship between art and iconographic presence of the art object. Similarly, John Cage's 4'33" (1952) asked listeners to embrace the absence of sound as a way of hearing the world more fully. Richie operates within this lineage but moves beyond it by making nothingness a lot more personal, tethering the void to his own experience, where the work serves as an excuse for something other than its own existence. In doing so, Culver transforms the theoretical into the visceral, the universal into that which is deeply intimate. To Be Nothing: the premise of Paintings About Nothing confronts a very ordinary desire that exists in us all-whether fleeting or consuming-to escape the burdens of being. This desire is often expressed through addiction, self-destruction, or withdrawal from society. In this context, the notion of "being on nothing" takes on layered significance. For an addict, "nothing" can represent the ultimate state of release, where the noise of existence is silenced, or the object of consumption represents a narrowing of reality—a tunneling of vision, with nothing as the imagined exit hatch. For someone contemplating self-deletion, nothingness may appear as an escape from the overwhelming angst of not finding a tunnel deep enough to burrow into. Culver's work engages with these dark and twisted dimensions of human existence, not to glorify them but to acknowledge them as part of the broader condition of aliveness. His work seeks to release the shame that comes with no longer pretending to be above such struggles. By doing so, he offers a space of recognition and acceptance, where the human condition can be seen in its raw and unvarnished form. Being and Nothingness: Richie's artistic stance-his insistence that he is the genre-foregrounds the tension in art between medium and concept, a dynamic that can serve as a metaphor for being and nothingness. This in-betweenness recalls the philosophy of chora, as described by writer Lucia Irigaray. Borrowed from Plato, the chora is neither being nor non-being but a space of potential—a receptacle where forms emerge and dissolve. Irigaray expands this idea to explore the fluidity of identity and meaning, emphasising the significance of dwelling in spaces that resist definition. Her interpretation of the tunnel in Plato's cave analogy reimagines it as the birth canal, revealing that even a thinker as esteemed as Plato struggled to explicitly mediate our relationship with that which is most bloody and vital for life. Culver's refusal to resolve ambiguity is, in this sense, both radical and disorienting, compelling viewers to engage with the work on its own terms. His practice mirrors the process of navigating the chora: it requires a willingness to dwell in the unknown without inventing another narrative to explain it. The space Richie occupies is not primarily theoretical but deeply tender and personal. By rejecting genre and concept, he creates a space where he can exist without needing to be loved, praised, or understood. Art vs Nothing: The aesthetics of nothingness have been explored in depth by figures like Graham Gussin and Ele Carpenter, who provide a kind of "Break In Case of Emergency" critical framework for understanding Culver's work. Their book Nothing highlights how contemporary artists have used this concept as a tool to interrogate systems of power, representation, and consumption. Richie's rejection of genre and meaning aligns with these practices, situating his work within a broader discourse on the potential of absence. Culver's work is uniquely situated within the socio-political and cultural context of today, exposing the blind spots of what is referred to as 'contemporary' in art. His refusal to conform to the art world's impulse to archive is not an act of withdrawal but one of resuscitation. By embracing nothingness, Culver asserts the value of silence, absence, and ambiguity in a world that increasingly demands noise, presence, and certainty. At its core, Culver's practice is an invitation to rethink our relationship with nothingness as an urgent form of presence. He asks us to confront our discomfort with absence, to dwell in spaces that resist easy categorisation. And if you need a show with something to look at to aid this process, Culver offers paintings-for your ego to die with.
Abbas Zahedi, 2025.
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