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I was writing something out about how, askew to the trend of dancing in front of paintings to cast spells as mysticism for meaning to stand in for yesterday's conceptualism, Warboys' paintings seem predicated on the distance of the painting's sign from its performative aspect, the things never overlap: Warboys never quite dancing in front of the paintings - splitting hairs quite thin here - that leaves everything as distinct as metal objects in a bag, together but never mixed, different from other performative dance-in-front-of-paintings painters inculcation of painting like its a dead hare, and feeling how crazy that sounded. In vast darkness, deprived of information images are projected on the backs of the caves of our skulls in phantasms in trying to construct a reasonable image. This is the power of the vast blank caves of today's art. It's occasionally fun.
