The pun in the title of Tibor Horváth’s exhibition, in common with the humour that underpins this rebel artist’s work, is mostly at the expense of patriarchy and chauvinism. Domináns nem can be read either as ‘the dominant sex’, referring to dubious assumptions about the inherent leading role of males, or as the ‘dominant no’, pointing to the problem of denial in Hungarian politics. The many twists and turns in Hungarian political life over recent months have galvanised the artist to respond through intelligent visual commentary and energetic conceptual actions that range from word play and sketches to ideas materialised as crafted objects. As he gave us a personal tour of his first solo show at ACB Galéria, we were struck by the way in which with every objectionable turn of events on the national stage, the artist has adopted the tactic of deflecting negativity into an ironic yet sincere stream of post-conceptual criticality.

The ACB is a classic ‘apartment gallery’, set in a converted residential flat in downtown Pest, and as such presents a challenge to contemporary artists that want to rise above the architectural division of the space according to the logic of domestic use. Horváth’s initial strategy for dealing with the particular exhibition context of the ACB is to treat the three rooms as a mirror of contemporary Hungarian society, by dividing them according to the artist’s categories of ‘the Rich, the Poor, and Fidesz’. The ‘rich’ are catered for with an installation alcove built into one room that provides a luxurious setting for an illuminated display case containing his and her copies of the ultra slim Apple AirBook - one 13” version in granite and an 11” one in marble, each with a Lucio Fontana-style slit down the middle that is suggestive of potential illicit use by decadent art collectors.

The largest room is dedicated to the poor and is reached by passing under a brick arch with a contemporary reworking of the infamous motto on the gates of Auschwitz as: ‘Arbeit macht Dich.’ There are echoes here of the psychological effects of semio-capitalism, in which who we are is defined by our performativity in an online world of unlimited connectivity, as well as more specific references to the government’s manual labour programme, as well as a comment on the sheer lack of jobs. The walls of the room are covered with drawings and sketches, many of which were originally published by the artist on his facebook page, as daily comments on the political situation in the country. Horváth’s funny and sometimes painful observations, most of which require a more than passing knowledge of Hungarian to fully get the joke, are realised in his favourite colours of red, white and green.

The third room is darker, and contains some of the artist’s most concentrated responses to the new reality of life in Orbanistan. On one wall there’s a large projection of what appears to be the ‘loading’ symbol from Windows 7, although as the artist explains, the circular pulse is in fact made up of 1026 divisions to reflect the number of years that have passed since the Honfoglálás or Hungarian Conquest, while pointing to the tendency of Hungarian history to move in ‘pagan circles’ rather than according to the ‘linear logic of Christianity’. Another work in the Fidesz room is ‘Donation for the Health of Democracy’, a steel piggy bank in the style of a cash machine, with an inscription in English and slots for credit cards and cash, but nothing but thin air underneath. Nearby the artist engineers another confrontation between the high tech values of globalisation and the retro appeal of nationalism, with his iTalpramagyar wooden tablet. Completing the picture, in one corner there’s a stool where you can sit and listen to the entire text of the new Hungarian constitution or Basic Law delivered by a professional fairytale reader.

As if this abundance of art production were not enough, at the end of the tour, the artist turns to us with the words: ‘I want to let you into a secret.’ Returning to the alcove housing the two Cokebooks, the artist kneels down and opens a little black door leading into a hidden space containing a secret exhibition made up of works created by his friends. This show within a show, realised without the prior knowledge or permission of the gallery and to the great surprise of the owner on the opening night, is the sign of an overflowing, irrepressibly subversive, creativity at work – catch it if you can.