The opening reception at Düsseldorf's glossy new Kunsthalle was mobbed by Ruhr Valley heiresses, bearded intellectuals, and art dealers from all over Europe. In the crush, nearly everyone failed to recognize the artist, Günter Haese, 43, a slender, shy man with an assembly-line haircut and an inexpensive suit. No one, however, could ignore the 27 works on display. Built of watch springs, mesh, tiny cogs and spirals, the small, precisely balanced wire constructions fluttered and danced at the slightest breath. Bearing cryptic names, such as Hermit, Flirt and L'état c'est moi, they...
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