(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) the conventions of blazon: a type of catalog verse in which the poet lists the physical attributes of a (usually female) subject (…) strains the relation between the subject and her metaphorical body (…) re-organizing the poem, he proposes a headless subject who carries her head in her hands. We encounter the body of the text at the shoulders, after which we descend. Her head is placed in between her hands, as she touches and holds her head, and thereby her own textual representation. (…) authoring and not: he appropriates the poem (…) without taking the helm completely, thereby leaving a “headless” production with its meaning unfixed and unsettled.

—Pia Louwerens, 2023

(…) dead (…), presumably zoological specimens that temporarily served as true-to-life photo models. Through their particular representations, portrayed in somewhat unnaturally arranged postures, with flora and monochrome backgrounds, they give themselves away as products of culture rather than nature. (…) snakes shed their skin, a doubling displacement occurs with the postcards: the transparent lamination has coolly crawled from picture side to writing side—or, alternatively, the now-exposed snakes are revived as they abandon their own double negation.

—Timo Demollin, 2022

(…) dead (…), presumably zoological specimens that temporarily served as true-to-life photo models. Through their particular representations, portrayed in somewhat unnaturally arranged postures, with flora and monochrome backgrounds, they give themselves away as products of culture rather than nature. (…) snakes shed their skin, a doubling displacement occurs with the postcards: the transparent lamination has coolly crawled from picture side to writing side—or, alternatively, the now-exposed snakes are revived as they abandon their own double negation.

—Timo Demollin, 2022

(…) dead (…), presumably zoological specimens that temporarily served as true-to-life photo models. Through their particular representations, portrayed in somewhat unnaturally arranged postures, with flora and monochrome backgrounds, they give themselves away as products of culture rather than nature. (…) snakes shed their skin, a doubling displacement occurs with the postcards: the transparent lamination has coolly crawled from picture side to writing side—or, alternatively, the now-exposed snakes are revived as they abandon their own double negation.

—Timo Demollin, 2022

(…) dead (…), presumably zoological specimens that temporarily served as true-to-life photo models. Through their particular representations, portrayed in somewhat unnaturally arranged postures, with flora and monochrome backgrounds, they give themselves away as products of culture rather than nature. (…) snakes shed their skin, a doubling displacement occurs with the postcards: the transparent lamination has coolly crawled from picture side to writing side—or, alternatively, the now-exposed snakes are revived as they abandon their own double negation.

—Timo Demollin, 2022

(…) dead (…), presumably zoological specimens that temporarily served as true-to-life photo models. Through their particular representations, portrayed in somewhat unnaturally arranged postures, with flora and monochrome backgrounds, they give themselves away as products of culture rather than nature. (…) snakes shed their skin, a doubling displacement occurs with the postcards: the transparent lamination has coolly crawled from picture side to writing side—or, alternatively, the now-exposed snakes are revived as they abandon their own double negation.

—Timo Demollin, 2022

For his contribution (…) inspired by the novel Immortality (1990) by Milan Kundera (…) Vrancken brings into play notions of similarity and dissimilarity (…) It consists of two books on hand gestures, one Dutch, the other Japanese, which have been dovetailed into one another by interleaving the pages. (…) suggests that a gesture shared by different cultures, although formally similar, is sometimes used to convey an entirely different message. (…) the experience of being human carries in it more meaning than can be housed in a single body.

—Nadia de Vries, 2022

For his contribution (…) inspired by the novel Immortality (1990) by Milan Kundera (…) Vrancken brings into play notions of similarity and dissimilarity (…) It consists of two books on hand gestures, one Dutch, the other Japanese, which have been dovetailed into one another by interleaving the pages. (…) suggests that a gesture shared by different cultures, although formally similar, is sometimes used to convey an entirely different message. (…) the experience of being human carries in it more meaning than can be housed in a single body.

—Nadia de Vries, 2022

For his contribution (…) inspired by the novel Immortality (1990) by Milan Kundera (…) Vrancken brings into play notions of similarity and dissimilarity (…) It consists of two books on hand gestures, one Dutch, the other Japanese, which have been dovetailed into one another by interleaving the pages. (…) suggests that a gesture shared by different cultures, although formally similar, is sometimes used to convey an entirely different message. (…) the experience of being human carries in it more meaning than can be housed in a single body.

—Nadia de Vries, 2022

(…) bleeding from another body. Flattened on the wall, the artist cut the speck out of the wallpaper. The piece was reproduced and resized to match the artist's stature. It sounds like magical thinking: the transformation of identity through a wall, by means of the combination of blood and mosquito. By enlarging the bloodspot, Vrancken reappropriates himself. Consequentially, the lack of physical volume of the vinyl sticker barely enables us to define it as a spatial object. A conscious choice, for Vrancken, who situates this merger in an architectural context, one in which the measurements and proportions of the blood spot find new resonance.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) bleeding from another body. Flattened on the wall, the artist cut the speck out of the wallpaper. The piece was reproduced and resized to match the artist's stature. It sounds like magical thinking: the transformation of identity through a wall, by means of the combination of blood and mosquito. By enlarging the bloodspot, Vrancken reappropriates himself. Consequentially, the lack of physical volume of the vinyl sticker barely enables us to define it as a spatial object. A conscious choice, for Vrancken, who situates this merger in an architectural context, one in which the measurements and proportions of the blood spot find new resonance.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) Given such conceptual affinity, it is no wonder that Vrancken was surprised that the Stedelijk Museum Schiedam had a table (with the dimensions 3 x 7.5 x 1.5 sb-feet) made to present a work by brouwn, but had passed it down to the rental company Museumgoed as a functional object after the exhibition. The question raised by this act is where brouwn's work begins and ends. Is it conceptually justifiable to include one object in the collection as a work of art but to reduce its counterpart to utility object despite their shared conditions?

—Manus Groenen, 2021

(…) a limited edition mail-out dispatched prior to the exhibition. The project space is named as an homage to the artists and founders Tim Mathijsen and Tirza Kater's friend, Marwan, who left Amsterdam. (…) He employs the marketing and communicating tools of Marwan, and transforms the hosting initiative's narrow flyer into a concert wrist band. (…) it can twice encircle his wrist, or by extension, once around Tim's and Tirza's - the sum of Marwan - as well. (…) Once the band is unfolded, the information is undecipherable from fragments which are made only to be legible in its folded form.

—Christina Li, 2021

(…) a limited edition mail-out dispatched prior to the exhibition. The project space is named as an homage to the artists and founders Tim Mathijsen and Tirza Kater's friend, Marwan, who left Amsterdam. (…) He employs the marketing and communicating tools of Marwan, and transforms the hosting initiative's narrow flyer into a concert wrist band. (…) it can twice encircle his wrist, or by extension, once around Tim's and Tirza's - the sum of Marwan - as well. (…) Once the band is unfolded, the information is undecipherable from fragments which are made only to be legible in its folded form.

—Christina Li, 2021

(…) a limited edition mail-out dispatched prior to the exhibition. The project space is named as an homage to the artists and founders Tim Mathijsen and Tirza Kater's friend, Marwan, who left Amsterdam. (…) He employs the marketing and communicating tools of Marwan, and transforms the hosting initiative's narrow flyer into a concert wrist band. (…) it can twice encircle his wrist, or by extension, once around Tim's and Tirza's - the sum of Marwan - as well. (…) Once the band is unfolded, the information is undecipherable from fragments which are made only to be legible in its folded form.

—Christina Li, 2021

(…) a bone comb with two teeth sharpened to points. The work alludes to the many versions of the myth surrounding Cleopatra's alleged suicide. (…) about how leaving a snakebite on your body, real or fake, is a guarantee to a next life. The comb negates the image that the title suggests. We don't see a dew covered flower at all. (…) Vrancken is not only invested in the meanings to which he wants to refer, but also with how he wants to refer to them. Flower, dew (2021) is a complex dance in which Reinier challenges us to search for meanings in all layers of the work.

—Linda Köke, 2021

(…) a bone comb with two teeth sharpened to points. The work alludes to the many versions of the myth surrounding Cleopatra's alleged suicide. (…) about how leaving a snakebite on your body, real or fake, is a guarantee to a next life. The comb negates the image that the title suggests. We don't see a dew covered flower at all. (…) Vrancken is not only invested in the meanings to which he wants to refer, but also with how he wants to refer to them. Flower, dew (2021) is a complex dance in which Reinier challenges us to search for meanings in all layers of the work.

—Linda Köke, 2021

(…) a bone comb with two teeth sharpened to points. The work alludes to the many versions of the myth surrounding Cleopatra's alleged suicide. (…) about how leaving a snakebite on your body, real or fake, is a guarantee to a next life. The comb negates the image that the title suggests. We don't see a dew covered flower at all. (…) Vrancken is not only invested in the meanings to which he wants to refer, but also with how he wants to refer to them. Flower, dew (2021) is a complex dance in which Reinier challenges us to search for meanings in all layers of the work.

—Linda Köke, 2021

(…) a bone comb with two teeth sharpened to points. The work alludes to the many versions of the myth surrounding Cleopatra's alleged suicide. (…) about how leaving a snakebite on your body, real or fake, is a guarantee to a next life. The comb negates the image that the title suggests. We don't see a dew covered flower at all. (…) Vrancken is not only invested in the meanings to which he wants to refer, but also with how he wants to refer to them. Flower, dew (2021) is a complex dance in which Reinier challenges us to search for meanings in all layers of the work.

—Linda Köke, 2021

(…) is part of an ongoing work in series. The piles of clothing on the floor are on loan. Each pile carries a smell other than its owner's. Emma's smell is in the pile to the left, and her clothes are in the pile to the right. Identity shifts, but only half a place. Every outfit is passed to another individual to be washed, who in turn lends out his or hers, establishing a chain of passed-on clothing and changing smells. A relay of appropriation and expropriation. In Everybody becoming everybody else, Vrancken redefines the borders between one individual and the other. In doing so, he creates the opportunity to propose new wholes. (…) are always strangers to one another, who (…) have the silhouetted Vrancken as their common factor.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) is part of an ongoing work in series. The piles of clothing on the floor are on loan. Each pile carries a smell other than its owner's. Emma's smell is in the pile to the left, and her clothes are in the pile to the right. Identity shifts, but only half a place. Every outfit is passed to another individual to be washed, who in turn lends out his or hers, establishing a chain of passed-on clothing and changing smells. A relay of appropriation and expropriation. In Everybody becoming everybody else, Vrancken redefines the borders between one individual and the other. In doing so, he creates the opportunity to propose new wholes. (…) are always strangers to one another, who (…) have the silhouetted Vrancken as their common factor.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) is part of an ongoing work in series. The piles of clothing on the floor are on loan. Each pile carries a smell other than its owner's. Emma's smell is in the pile to the left, and her clothes are in the pile to the right. Identity shifts, but only half a place. Every outfit is passed to another individual to be washed, who in turn lends out his or hers, establishing a chain of passed-on clothing and changing smells. A relay of appropriation and expropriation. In Everybody becoming everybody else, Vrancken redefines the borders between one individual and the other. In doing so, he creates the opportunity to propose new wholes. (…) are always strangers to one another, who (…) have the silhouetted Vrancken as their common factor.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) is part of an ongoing work in series. The piles of clothing on the floor are on loan. Each pile carries a smell other than its owner's. Emma's smell is in the pile to the left, and her clothes are in the pile to the right. Identity shifts, but only half a place. Every outfit is passed to another individual to be washed, who in turn lends out his or hers, establishing a chain of passed-on clothing and changing smells. A relay of appropriation and expropriation. In Everybody becoming everybody else, Vrancken redefines the borders between one individual and the other. In doing so, he creates the opportunity to propose new wholes. (…) are always strangers to one another, who (…) have the silhouetted Vrancken as their common factor.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) is part of an ongoing work in series. The piles of clothing on the floor are on loan. Each pile carries a smell other than its owner's. Emma's smell is in the pile to the left, and her clothes are in the pile to the right. Identity shifts, but only half a place. Every outfit is passed to another individual to be washed, who in turn lends out his or hers, establishing a chain of passed-on clothing and changing smells. A relay of appropriation and expropriation. In Everybody becoming everybody else, Vrancken redefines the borders between one individual and the other. In doing so, he creates the opportunity to propose new wholes. (…) are always strangers to one another, who (…) have the silhouetted Vrancken as their common factor.

—Machteld Leij, 2021

(…) Vrancken's works are propositions to interpret the amalgamation of conceptual, semantic and poetic leaps and conceptions that are ascribed to seemingly autonomous objects and words around us. (…) The title is borrowed from the final line of Thomas James' poem Room 101 whereby the protagonist narrates how he is slowly turned to stone. Notions of preservation and transfiguration are pushed further when the title is juxtaposed with what is on display: different bottled fluids Vrancken obtained after working with a professional embalmer. (…) the look and feel of marble.

—Christina Li, 2021

(…) Vrancken's works are propositions to interpret the amalgamation of conceptual, semantic and poetic leaps and conceptions that are ascribed to seemingly autonomous objects and words around us. (…) The title is borrowed from the final line of Thomas James' poem Room 101 whereby the protagonist narrates how he is slowly turned to stone. Notions of preservation and transfiguration are pushed further when the title is juxtaposed with what is on display: different bottled fluids Vrancken obtained after working with a professional embalmer. (…) the look and feel of marble.

—Christina Li, 2021

(…) Vrancken's works are propositions to interpret the amalgamation of conceptual, semantic and poetic leaps and conceptions that are ascribed to seemingly autonomous objects and words around us. (…) The title is borrowed from the final line of Thomas James' poem Room 101 whereby the protagonist narrates how he is slowly turned to stone. Notions of preservation and transfiguration are pushed further when the title is juxtaposed with what is on display: different bottled fluids Vrancken obtained after working with a professional embalmer. (…) the look and feel of marble.

—Christina Li, 2021

(…) proposed to annotate Shimmer's website with (…) a translation between words starting at opposite ends of the alphabet. The word accessible, located on the About page on Shimmer's website, translates to züganglich. (…) We found his intervention interesting, particularly as it becomes our only permanent work that will adapt or even disappear if we remove the word that Reinier annotates.

—Eloise Sweetman and Jason Hendrik Hansma, 2020

(…) proposed to annotate Shimmer's website with (…) a translation between words starting at opposite ends of the alphabet. The word accessible, located on the About page on Shimmer's website, translates to züganglich. (…) We found his intervention interesting, particularly as it becomes our only permanent work that will adapt or even disappear if we remove the word that Reinier annotates.

—Eloise Sweetman and Jason Hendrik Hansma, 2020

(…) proposed to annotate Shimmer's website with (…) a translation between words starting at opposite ends of the alphabet. The word accessible, located on the About page on Shimmer's website, translates to züganglich. (…) We found his intervention interesting, particularly as it becomes our only permanent work that will adapt or even disappear if we remove the word that Reinier annotates.

—Eloise Sweetman and Jason Hendrik Hansma, 2020

(…) proposed to annotate Shimmer's website with (…) a translation between words starting at opposite ends of the alphabet. The word accessible, located on the About page on Shimmer's website, translates to züganglich. (…) We found his intervention interesting, particularly as it becomes our only permanent work that will adapt or even disappear if we remove the word that Reinier annotates.

—Eloise Sweetman and Jason Hendrik Hansma, 2020

(…) proposed to annotate Shimmer's website with (…) a translation between words starting at opposite ends of the alphabet. The word accessible, located on the About page on Shimmer's website, translates to züganglich. (…) We found his intervention interesting, particularly as it becomes our only permanent work that will adapt or even disappear if we remove the word that Reinier annotates.

—Eloise Sweetman and Jason Hendrik Hansma, 2020

(…) proposed to annotate Shimmer's website with (…) a translation between words starting at opposite ends of the alphabet. The word accessible, located on the About page on Shimmer's website, translates to züganglich. (…) We found his intervention interesting, particularly as it becomes our only permanent work that will adapt or even disappear if we remove the word that Reinier annotates.

—Eloise Sweetman and Jason Hendrik Hansma, 2020

(…) a stained glass window in the monumental stairwell, where the story of Saint Martin is depicted. (…) Vrancken deliberately chose not to add anything to the space, but to simply rearrange an existing element. On the handrail in the stairwell there are three attachments that had raised the height of the railing. Vrancken's intervention brings them back to the railing's original height (…) the corrections were not only out of place in terms of aesthetics, but also disrupted the movement that the stair and railing jointly orchestrated. Because the railing suddenly jumped a decimeter in certain places, one had to adjust his or her grip and movements while walking the stairs. (…) By lowering the extension of the balustrade and placing it next to the existing one, it doubles in form without doubling it in function. (…) I still look up at the window, through which the sun shines on the cloak of Saint Martin, split in two.

—Linda Köke, 2019

(…) a stained glass window in the monumental stairwell, where the story of Saint Martin is depicted. (…) Vrancken deliberately chose not to add anything to the space, but to simply rearrange an existing element. On the handrail in the stairwell there are three attachments that had raised the height of the railing. Vrancken's intervention brings them back to the railing's original height (…) the corrections were not only out of place in terms of aesthetics, but also disrupted the movement that the stair and railing jointly orchestrated. Because the railing suddenly jumped a decimeter in certain places, one had to adjust his or her grip and movements while walking the stairs. (…) By lowering the extension of the balustrade and placing it next to the existing one, it doubles in form without doubling in function. (…) I still look up at the window, through which the sun shines on the cloak of Saint Martin, split in two.

—Linda Köke, 2019

(…) screenshots (…) show a website's attempt to determine in which letter Lawrence Weiner's text-installation was typeset. The website interprets images to separate letters and to store them into compartments. In one compartment, Lawrence (…) casually leans on one boot, characterised as a letter. (…) multiple meanings (…) As long as he occupies the compartment, your alphabet's sixth letter is absent. In Weiner's presence, Vrancken uses words in which this compartment is skipped (…)

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) screenshots (…) show a website's attempt to determine in which letter Lawrence Weiner's text-installation was typeset. The website interprets images to separate letters and to store them into compartments. In one compartment, Lawrence (…) casually leans on one boot, characterised as a letter. (…) multiple meanings (…) As long as he occupies the compartment, your alphabet's sixth letter is absent. In Weiner's presence, Vrancken uses words in which this compartment is skipped (…)

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) screenshots (…) show a website's attempt to determine in which letter Lawrence Weiner's text-installation was typeset. The website interprets images to separate letters and to store them into compartments. In one compartment, Lawrence (…) casually leans on one boot, characterised as a letter. (…) multiple meanings (…) As long as he occupies the compartment, your alphabet's sixth letter is absent. In Weiner's presence, Vrancken uses words in which this compartment is skipped (…)

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) screenshots (…) show a website's attempt to determine in which letter Lawrence Weiner's text-installation was typeset. The website interprets images to separate letters and to store them into compartments. In one compartment, Lawrence (…) casually leans on one boot, characterised as a letter. (…) multiple meanings (…) As long as he occupies the compartment, your alphabet's sixth letter is absent. In Weiner's presence, Vrancken uses words in which this compartment is skipped (…)

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) an adder, that uses a mountain's image as its title. Slithering along this mountain is a stretched cloud. (…) this image occupies a space usually inhabited by letters. Like a vowel can be pronounced in several ways—a, aa—, this work can be pronounced as a cloud or as an adder.

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) an adder, that uses a mountain's image as its title. Slithering along this mountain is a stretched cloud. (…) this image occupies a space usually inhabited by letters. Like a vowel can be pronounced in several ways—a, aa—, this work can be pronounced as a cloud or as an adder.

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) an adder, that uses a mountain's image as its title. Slithering along this mountain is a stretched cloud. (…) this image occupies a space usually inhabited by letters. Like a vowel can be pronounced in several ways—a, aa—, this work can be pronounced as a cloud or as an adder.

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2019

(…) In the work titled Participating in the exhibition as Raniero, Vrancken embraced this dilution in language and participated as Raniero in an exhibition: a name that appeared on all press releases, publications and posters (…) It is a semiotic game that Vrancken often plays to rearrange the forces at work between signified and signifier.

—Manus Groenen, 2022

Sitting on a chair, legs crossed (…) Reader's Digest open in his lap, he reads. At specific moments in the performance, he sips from the glass of water on the table beside him. Ader marked 26 moments in the text at which he would drink his water. In Te lezen vallen, Vrancken used correction fluid to remove all except for the notations from a copy of Bas Jan's original Reader's Digest. The text ends up in a liminal space between reading and seeing. (…) crosses (…) x's (…) Falling (…) fall (…) fall (…)

—Manus Groenen, 2022

Sitting on a chair, legs crossed (…) Reader's Digest open in his lap, he reads. At specific moments in the performance, he sips from the glass of water on the table beside him. Ader marked 26 moments in the text at which he would drink his water. In Te lezen vallen, Vrancken used correction fluid to remove all except for the notations from a copy of Bas Jan's original Reader's Digest. The text ends up in a liminal space between reading and seeing. (…) crosses (…) x's (…) Falling (…) fall (…) fall (…)

—Manus Groenen, 2022

(…) With this pictorial title, Vrancken suggests that he partially stole Bowie, who, as a consequence, comminuted to stardust. (…) A similar tissue was exhibited in the traveling exhibition David Bowie Is. But perhaps Vrancken's tissue is an atonement, more than it is a tribute. The tissue reminisces the moment that Bowie and Vrancken partially coincided in meaning, but a soul was swapped too. An eye, an eye, a tooth, a tooth, is Vrancken's motto, whose exhibition instills drama in popstars, iconic artists animals and landscapes.

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2018

(…) With this pictorial title, Vrancken suggests that he partially stole Bowie, who, as a consequence, comminuted to stardust. (…) A similar tissue was exhibited in the traveling exhibition David Bowie Is. But perhaps Vrancken's tissue is an atonement, more than it is a tribute. The tissue reminisces the moment that Bowie and Vrancken partially coincided in meaning, but a soul was swapped too. An eye, an eye, a tooth, a tooth, is Vrancken's motto, whose exhibition instills drama in popstars, iconic artists animals and landscapes.

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2018

(…) With this pictorial title, Vrancken suggests that he partially stole Bowie, who, as a consequence, comminuted to stardust. (…) A similar tissue was exhibited in the traveling exhibition David Bowie Is. But perhaps Vrancken's tissue is an atonement, more than it is a tribute. The tissue reminisces the moment that Bowie and Vrancken partially coincided in meaning, but a soul was swapped too. An eye, an eye, a tooth, a tooth, is Vrancken's motto, whose exhibition instills drama in popstars, iconic artists animals and landscapes.

—Brenda Tempelaar, 2018