Liz Magor at Catriona Jeffries

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Tomorrow, April 23rd, 2016, there is an Estate Sale at 1344 Lambert Cir in Lafayette, CO. A pause before an objects moment in the world is scrubbed. Green Rayon pantsuits laid out on floral polyester bedspread. Ornately bezeled mirrors. Rusting jewelry in teal ceramic clam shells. A deflated donut cushion. Faint Naphthalene smells. Black velcro shoes. Frames with their contents removed. Objects whose sentiments evaporate along with the those who left them to become voids of that sentiment. Staged for a purgatorial display between vintage reincarnation and garbage. Threshold worlds. The trivial difference between a trash box and moving. And this last transitional moment Magor extends indefinitely, embalmed to pay respects, injected with formaldehyde to plasticize body without warmth.


See too: Dylan Spaysky at Clifton Benevento , Yuji Agematsu at Artspeak

Yuji Agematsu at Artspeak



The vital-materialism that undergirds this work is premised on a quasi-spiritual belief of an essential warmth of used materials, as if waste and trash contained some quality that shrink-wrapped plungers from Walmart don’t, which is sort of true but also the great lie of Capitalism, as if these objects spontaneously-manifested on store shelves, as if Apple laptops weren't assembled by sweating hands of low wage workers from materials of rare earth, mined in darkness by slaves paid even less. Laptops don’t look dirty, but they are the waste of the same system that installs factory suicide nets.

Ron Terada at Catriona Jeffries



Like Richter’s cold representation, Terada’s re-presentation, painting, of Goldstein’s bio is hollowing, emptying, left with the bones of pathos emerged from the evacutation of Goldstein’s overt romanticism. The doubling splits the experience between finding yourself engaged reading Goldstein’s text and remembering that you are looking at paintings of the text, once removed. The overlay of contextual flippage - reminiscent of Levine/Lawler’s invitations to “their” presentation of a ballet that wasn’t - never attempts to become the Quixote, but often finds the two text-surfaces collapsing to touch, as when Goldstein speaks of appropriation, or the necessitude of 2-d paintings for artworld seriousness which we find ourselves looking at, we find the projects merging, reflected in the other, an appropriated subject that begins talking back, almost self-aware, as if Goldstein himself was aware that the personality that preceded him would one day warrant this, this Kosuth like defining of contextual baggage.