Glowing and ephemeral, Michael Raedecker’s paintings are shadows, dust, and uncertain light, hand-stitched upon faded acrylic colors. The lines, the splashes, and their embroidered counterparts congeal the soft washes into familiar forms of houses, sheets, landscapes, tablecloths. In Raedecker’s documentation of objects, time feels suspended and the picture space is charged with personal history. “Each stitch here feels like it was made to commemorate a tear absorbed silently into a pillow, or the hot sweat of a fevered dream,” Tom Morton writes in view of the painting of a “not-quite-single, not-quite-double bed.” The carefully draped bedspread has seen birth and death hours, sicknesses, nightmares, joys and sorrows, and sexual experience—all drowning in a mist of oblivion. Still there remain the shadowy references to past occurrences, to personal memories that are inscribed in these impressive paintings.

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In collaboration with Galerie Max Hetzler, Berlin