Too little seen in France, Christopher Williams comes from conceptual art and objective photography while operating from within the perfectly oiled matrix of late capitalism. It slips, and it squeaks.
It's a bunch of apples redder than a shade of ultra-patented waterproof lipstick. A yellow bar of soap whose slobbery foam licks greedily from the hands that rub it. A mischievous little girl with a pearly smile frozen until she burst into carnivorous laughter. Or a gallinaceous bird with perfectly coiffed plumage standing out against a turquoise background worthy of a modeling agency.
In itself, we could have more simply said: there are, in Christopher Williams' exhibition at the David Zwirner gallery in Paris, photographs of fruits, hygiene products, children and animals.
The workings of the manufactured image, beyond the representation of a subject