Showing posts with label Antek Walczak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Antek Walczak. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2016

Antek Walczak at Jenny’s


(link)

PR: "The prevalence of icons, symbols, and glyphs across the screen interfaces interacted with on a daily basis, and their basic shorthand command work equivalent to the first steps of written language. To communicate, at a glance, tallies of river cargo hauled on the Euphrates (c. 3100 BC), memorable recordings of mastodon hunts and campfires, what gets attention on the App Store."

Humans are information processing machines with leg systems to move us toward the carrot of new information. Dopamine, long mythologized as the "pleasure center," instead creates seeking behavior, which, at the roulette wheel of digital feeds, scrolling news, and authoritative lists, causes all the odd psychological problems of lab rats given access to their own dopamine levers in humans. "After only a few days of training, the monkeys showed a clear preference for choosing the informative colored target." Walczak has proven for some time now, with paintings that prize information-as-legibility, that the usefulness of the information matters none: the complete arbitrariness of it here still invokes its authority.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Dave Miko, Ned Vena, Antek Walczak at Algus Greenspon

Group Show at Algus Greenspon

You can see each’s each: Walzack’s hypertrophied-conceptual scribing, Vena’s noxious cold power plant contemporary and for whom both’s sterility is marginally eased by Miko’s cartoony claustrophobic hells.
It’s after all a Real Fine crowd, and predicts a fashionable futurity - reboot set designed for a future 2001 clockwork decor, updated in graffito’s newly neutered formalism, predicted. Tomorrow’s neo-liberal home trickled down to Ikea bourgeois - in the future. In the future this is what it’s all going to look like, you’re upper class highschooler’s bedroom, rendered here now in front of you. Well not really, its mostly just the toxic mindsets of contemporary painters, a theater stage that like all “futuristic” is just a hyperbole of the present.