Sam Anderson at Rowhouse Project

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There is rarely an object of Anderson's we don't look down upon, that you don't watch where you step, a presentation whose, like early Wilkes or Aran's tables, dust settled marks this specific instance foreboding its wind, isolating its moment like Manders' cat at night cast in metaphorical bronze, or the Kelleyian arena which situates creatures (even while attacking its sentimentality) as an offering, like a little dog rolling over exposing belly's soft pink skin veiling easily destroyed guts, people we stand over, Perniceian vulnerability, an emotional connection to things that require our care.


See too: Cathy Wilkes at Kunstmuseum Linz, Cathy Wilkes at Tramway, Sam Anderson at Tanya Leighton, Sam Anderson at Off Vendome, Manfred Pernice at Galerie Neu, Manfred Pernice at Regen Projects

Sam Anderson at Tanya Leighton

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Precious, Anderson's not packaged with the usual given art gloss but fragile and at stake, with the possibility of loss that is inherent to the precious, a loss that so many wish to defeat with packaging to eternalize; and many forms of. E.g. FGTorres giving the metaphorical finger to loss with sheer determination to print it free of its preciousness; Agematsu's cellophane; the whole subgenre of contemporary reliquary art; Anderson's loss instead something the objects flatly accept, their defeat, preciousness without preservative, making it sentimental. Romance is usually intended to be forced upon the viewer by artist's gilding and gloss, but these - like the wire traps before - force instead a stewardship, a carefulness, so terribly awkward, the way bad feng shui consistently reminds you of your body.


see too:  Sam Anderson at Off Vendome, James Lee Byars at VeneKlasen/Michael Werner

Sam Anderson at Off Vendome

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Like pigeon spikes the objects ward off landing platforms, nowhere to quite sit well, and a good way to lose an eye, like traps, a high surface area to volume content, sort of abjectionably awful but functional, things you really don’t want near your eyes but love for the fret they cause, strange frentic things.