"Points of departure include: Monet’s haystacks, Balzac’s “The Unknown Masterpiece,” Borges’s “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote,” Gus Van Sant’s Psycho, Sturtevant, Daniel Buren, jokes, folktales, classical music (the performance and the score), 19th Century studio practice and/vs. contemporary notions of “keeping busy,” recordings, Brecht’s kopien, reproductions, Gaddis’s catalog, the archive, sampling, authoring Wikipedia, open source collaborations, the readymade...and so on and so on. "
Don't judge a show by its press release/how the gallery's staff sees it. While there are for sure some real stinkers—to be expected with such an easily/lazily put-together show (surely someone must have cancelled...), some gems do shine through the fecal murk. Nic Gambaroff's merriweather post pavillion take on Barré warms the coldest of hearts; Ann Craven goes about getting outta of the swamp by literally putting lipstick on a pig, using turpenoid on the foulest of turds; and Jacob Kassay follows Craven's lead, taking an acetylene torch to Chris Wool's ball hairs. But I guess that's it, the remaining carnies should return to learning the over-under for the next time the Scorched Earth rub'n'tug jamboree rolls through town.