In the hall outside the main space, an array of paint cans—actually wood, and liable to tip right over if one bumps them—sit on nightstands, surreal vignettes within and around them (a Hockney scene post-summer, leaves and furniture in a tiny empty pool in a drawer; a potato which wanders the wall like the world’s starchiest spider) suggesting the kind of sleep-deprivation-derived trompe l’oeil one gets in a dawn-lit bedroom after a prolonged coke binge, something just beyond the playfulness of his material alchemy and with the slightest soupçon of strange menace, the uncanny power of trompe l’esprit.
“The installation A 240 Second Analysis of Failure and Hopefulness (with Coke, Vinegar, and other Tear Gas Remedies) consists of 160 color slides shown on two synchronized slide carousel projectors. It is a slideshow of the urban life cycle: building gets knocked down, new building gets put up, until it becomes old and/or unwanted enough or its land becomes desirable enough to have it get knocked down again. [Basim] Magdy’s films were bathed in Coke, vinegar, and tear gas remedies, in a process the artist calls “pickling,” resulting in otherworldly blues, pinks, and greens with the hazy buzz of old 3D images or ancient photos.”
“Seeking to illuminate the West’s blind spot for Southeast Asia, the Ho Chi Minh City art collective-cum-advertising company The Propeller Group produces ambitious multimedia projects through artifacts, videos, and sculptural works … The Propeller Group delves into deep issues with surprising approachability, something that can be credited to their experiences in the commercial realm. Free of haughty abstraction, they seek to make art that is both powerful and easy to grasp.”
“It is an effort to combat the lasting, damaging impacts of underrepresentation. “You pick up art history books and they are always talking about those people, and it’s the same people from book to book to book,” Marshall explains. “At a certain point, it induces this notion that you are not one of those people that do great things.” Marshall’s technical proficiency is at once a wink at the sacred Western canon and the creation of his own—in essence, the redefinition of art history.”
“The [MCA's] design team of course does more than implement the new identity; they also create the labels for exhibitions, the layout of the member magazine and some of the museum’s catalogues, the website and press materials, including releases and the exhibition-specific, often gorgeous folders they come in. The David Bowie Is design, created by Wilner, is particularly wonderful, brilliant red with an iconic blue thunderbolt crashing across its front, screaming down from glam empyrean; think Hephaestus sloshed on Sherwin-Williams.”
“It is Jaworska’s sculptures, however, which most eloquently translate the construct’s tongue, set within a luxurious space evoking a bistre jewelry box, skeletal elements in pragmatic black apparently lifted directly from a sketchbook … Our noble, supplicant towering beasts are revealed for what they truly are—massive but subservient chevaux de frise against the void—in “Monument for Them,” which puts a beast on its knees for nothing but a charmingly simple salutation.”
“Space rhetoric cannot help but be romantic; the gaps are so wide, the voids so vast—and filled, with cruel meagerness, by objects we laughingly named for gods—that the only way it can be comfortably expressed and understood is through either math or poetry, both of which are known for their simple complexity and necessary shattering of the real into vicious abstractions.”
“This, these 120-plus works, organized into stanzas and spanning four dimensions, is exhibition as Legion, as Leviathan, as Lil B mixtape; color, form and shape in biblical proportions, driving amphibian rains and sloughed scales and torn shrouds … “