Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Jessi Reaves at Bridget Donahue


Like Rembrandt's Flayed Ox tinged with new meaning against the repetition of his auto-erotic visage, Reaves doubling-down on material entrails in the age of avatars could seem perversely obstinate memento mori; a reminder that, like all that stolen Ikea elegance whose eventual blown out corners reveal its making of all but compressed trash, underneath everything we desire to be is an intestinal makeup of sponge replacing its weight with rumors of dead-cells and dust-mites of a body threatening to turn fungal even while its pubescent biology meets identity, becoming gendered but threatening death makes them erotic like the ox meat.

See too: Miriam Cahn at Meyer RieggerDylan Spaysky at Clifton BeneventoNancy Lupo at Swiss InstituteChadwick Rantanen at Essex StreetMartín Soto Climent at Proyectos Monclova