The threat of exposure to the unregulated realities of a chaotic truth outside the illusion of stasis brings both a satiating comfort and an irrefutable frustration at being trapped. I like to think the animal’s dream becomes the desecration of its captor, the American’s anger at captivity is satiated through substance and consumerism, both are their own kind of violence.
Their is a dangerous pathology that afflicts the global affluent, the hegemony that will not relinquish its power and refuses empathy for those not positioned on top. The obscenely wealthy minority of white males who control the distribution of human resources do not concern themselves with a human communal fate but with their individual comfort and, secondarily, a familial fate.
The history of art finds perpetual eroticism in forms simultaneously revealed and hidden; excitement pools in the act of almost seeing.
We ascend the stairs together, all the while my friend insisting we must be trespassing as I’m suspecting the feeling of exclusion and threat is most certainly of design and desired by the gallery- an escape room of sorts for gentrific 20-somethings seeking their soul’s calling in “the mystery” of art.
There is magical realism when reality in a work slips into reverie. Aaron Gilbert’s Psychic Novellas strobe between unflinching social realism and nightmare.
Within the new Tribeca gallery Lubov, upstairs and unassuming, I found the paintings of Katrina Fimmel.
The two solo shows of Dina and Maya Brodsky currently at Bernarducci Meisel Gallery immediately thrill the viewer with sheer technical virtuosity.
According to Jungian theory, the presence of a house in dreams is an archetypal representative of a return to our first house, the womb, and the way it reveals itself to us informs our understanding of the human psyche.
With the realization that his skills could be used to make a deeper connection, Steger began to make non-utilitarian objects under the mentorship of assemblage artist Raymond Barnhart.
The portraits created by Cayce Zavaglia are not meant to flatter. There is no idealization, only relentless recording of physiognomic traits. There is nowhere to hide from her methodical analysis of every form and tonality.
