The New Yorker
Most of the artists in this show were born in American
in the seventies, which positions it as an essay on the current Zeitgeist.
Refreshingly, the statement it makes about young artists' preoccupations is
convincing without being portentous, ironic, or abject. Junky materials
predominate - a dead cricket, a cast-urethane rock, aluminum foil, old surf photographs,
insulation foam, flocked wallpaper, mirrored glass - as do highly formal
configurations, such as Ian Pedigo's fraying rattan beach mat collaged with
newsprint and mounted on the wall, or Rosy Keyser's splat of house paint and
sawdust on canvas. The show, which was curated by Simone Subal, takes a stance
that is witty, restrained, and ambitious.
August 27, 2007