Beverly Pepper at Kayne Griffin Corcoran

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while instead the plodding lumpen ones express their material well.  The stacks of metal stuff that provide a nuance rather than bending materials to drawings in the air. Drawings should be on paper. At their most "expressive" they seem rococo, mannerist, the expression we all want but don't want too much of. It might be that whole bullshit of "honesty to material" still echoing in our learned heads, but the dumber ones find sensitivity to dumb material. It's Pepper's 80s columns (seen in the last KGC exhibition) where the dumb metals find some sort of totemic mystery in silent forms. Like the act of stacking, higher, finds the primeval issue at the heart of construction, sculpture, like this is what we do, at base, is get up, build, it's mysterious.

Mary Obering at Kayne Griffin Corcoran

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It seems there's become a scramble to repair art history, reweave the tapestry's holes left by the moths hungry for the limelight. The omissions all pretended never happened. There is a problem with revisionist history in omitting that we did need to revise it. It would feel better if hadn't come so late, come after women artists finally also flying towards the moon with prices, the galleries tinting theirs with suspicions of market plays and generally not at all fair to the artists. KGC has a better track record, having always looking at least partially back, and so suspicions should maybe be muted, there's no fluorescents here. Though it does kinda look like a beach in moonlight.

Mary Corse at Kayne Griffin Corcoran

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Perceptuality in art feeling like a fossil dragged into the 21st century. Trends for "presentness"already been subsumed by our yoga practices and then trend the phone-films of airplane interiors and whatever other banalia which too aggrandized plain "experience" wondrous as any ice cold lightbox. Air and space focused on place which turned to "site-specificity" treating museums as church to it, turned by the young into experience as transmissable blips to light up the networks we all spent most of our experience more and more on anyway. Personal attendance seems like a morality, a penance to drag your body across.

Mark Handforth at Kayne Griffin Corcoran

(Mark Handforth at Kayne Griffin Corcoran)

The strangeness of this exhibition is reconciling the in-person experience with its now image representation, the discrepant experience of two forms of scale. In reproduction the largess is a concept, it flatters them, making the big dumb things seem more appropriate to function as freakishly oversized signs in a world rendered virtual, the terror of their superfluous birth into the real producing not such a cripplingly appropriate question. In the real world you see they’re made for collectors backyards, the perfect monument to the capital’s exchange, codes for real.

See too : Amanda Ross-Ho at Approach , Daniel Dewar and Grégory Gicquel at Micheline Szwajcer