Thy Majestic Loose Eye, And Only Thus
May 27nd – June 18th, 2017
Open both Saturdays and Sundays for the duration of the show
Opening Reception – Saturday May 27 from 7-10pm
Tiger Strikes Asteroid Los Angeles
The Bendix Building
1206 Maple Avenue, 5th floor, #523
Los Angeles, CA 90015, USA
There is something faintly erroneous about this curatorial project. Error here should not be confused with the romanticism of failure but rather as a method of finding. As well, it would also be specious to situate this show with error as its focal point.
“My error, however, must be the path of a truth: since only when I err do I step out of what I know and what I understand.”
Clarice Lispector “Passion According to GH” pg. 111
Error here is a method of stepping aside, wherein the curator rather than selecting previously works made vis-à-vis a conceptual premise, selects the artists whose praxis appear to coincide with a specific conjecture, to then request them to make works theoretically based on such speculations.
What is known and understood, perhaps better here suited as felt, is the selection of the artists and the commonalities they share, in my view, with Clarice Lispector’s seminal novel “Passion According to GH”. The novel is an amalgam of prose, poetry, philosophy, mysticism, existential crisis collectively pronounced in diaristic cadence, as the protagonist, a well to do sculptor, embarks into her maid’s quarters, post resignation, to rearrange and clean. It is not that the artists provide a similar terminus to that of Lispector’s, but that the latter’s form and content parallel the former.
Thus in lieu of curating specific works, I asked the six artists in the show to read the text and in respect to their modus operandi and subject matter, relate to the conditions of the narrative in their respective studios.
The artists chosen, Caitlin Keogh, Dana DeGiulio, Lynne Ghenov, Maritza Ranero, Tracy Thomason and Jessica Dickinson provide a syncretic milieu wherein walls are made pervious. History conflates with sentiment, sentiment becomes architecture, architecture presents itself as time, and time … time is hung above the floor, suspended like a half dead cockroach staring back at the viewer, crushed at the waist.
