Jogged into the White Cube listening to the Cure’s Lovecats and found that Ernesto Caivano’s first major solo exhibition in London perfectly matched the music. Robert Smith’s twangling, joyous music was bizarrely in sync with the two tragic lovers in the wooded realm of Caivano’s unbelievably finely drawn pictures, his swirling fractal geometry, his nanotechnological diagrams, his presentations of the Cosmos.
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