Two hundred white-framed windows and doors salvaged from a house in Zurich are assembled into a structure that bridges the gap between sculpture and architecture. As in much of Gramsma’s work, nods to modernism—Mondrian and his mutating grids, Malevich’s Suprematist monochromes—prevail. (The work also makes reference to the nineteenth-century economist Frédéric Bastiat’s “Broken Window” parable.) Tiny, quirky pieces occupy the walls: a trio of blobby frames made from coffee grounds and glue, a simple cast-bronze “Slope,” a lush nocturnal photograph of sailboats moored off Corsica. Gramsma’s abstruse theorizing posits the sum of these parts as a sort of economic exchange between artist and viewer, but enjoying them merely as willfully strange objects is equally, if not more, satisfying. Through Dec. 17. (Haswellediger, 465 W. 23rd St. 212-206-8955.)
Hat tip to Brian Summers.
Mr. Gramsma seems really to be cognizant of Bastiat’s message, as this other description of Gramsma’s work reveals.