526 Wilson Ave Brooklyn NY
+1 727 992 6286
open by appointment
One Moment Please
November 3 - 24
In a direct refutation of the bourgeois individualist liberties of solipsistic development of individuated criteria for aesthetic judgement, “One Moment Please” problematizes the notions of craft and “goodness” through a reflexive awareness of the conceptual legacies of Lucy Lippard (et al) and through the transmutation of such dematerialized performances of didactic language games ultimately arrive at the possibility of broad strokes of contemporaneity which de-ontologize today’s naturalized post-cybernetic production of affect, hyper-circulation of codes, hybridized assemblages of market economy/democracy. The ossification of this nebulous condition demarcates the limits of receptivity and production, in a time when snobs of the neo-avant-garde have been outmoded by their mere recourse to apophantic meanings of ontologized faktums of an axiological registrar. For example, through the individualized aestheticism of “good art” in hipster coffeeshop bohemias. The refraction of this (global) condition onto itself creates an aesthetic registrar which is valuated not according to the hermeneutic circle of craft or originary onto-theological meaning (Heidegger), but rather a pragmatic rule-based emergentism, where “goodness” or any authoritative invocations of “mystical access” is completely beside the point. This reduction of affect to a post-emotive relation between “knower” and “knowed” problematizes the interiority of the classic subject of say St. Augustine and deracinates the epistemological framework for the assessment of supposed autonomous art. This movement away from technological enframement (Heidegger) toward the inhumanism of “eliminative materialism” (Churchland), whereby the autopoetic dimension of art is its expression manifestly as/qua the underlying processes of “societies of control” (Deleuze). The desublimation of figuration, representation and craft (in the metaphysical sense of pictorial truth) is quietly ontologized by the material as its negatively defined enframement of aesthetic categories (see the mechanical reproduction of David Ostrowski’s painting, through the negative device of mesh banner) to achieve the recursive constitution of the “body/mind” (or even “soul”), but only as a de-ontologized appropriation of neo-Platonic categories of consciousness (the “body/container”, e.g. of canvas, of diptych/mesh banner, of mandala). But clearly, to the contemporary citizen, said hermetic poetry of pre-modern categories via modernist allegories is merely an unscientific parable a la Borges. “One Moment Please” should instead be analyzed as a topological heuristic to manifestly express the local-global continuum by which access to a local singularity (Karin Sander’s canvas, for example) can create a global phase shift (the networks, geography and logistical systems which are invoked through the shipment of the package-cum-painting). After the advancements of catastrophe theory in the 70s and more importantly, its twin sister chaos theory, the contemporary neuroscientific view was to view the subject as a sequence of “phase shifts”. This notion originated in topology with manifolds with regional discontinuities (catastrophe theory). The initial conditions of such a differential field/system has huge ramifications for the convergence or divergence of the attractor of a system. In the Luhmannian sense of a systems theory (of culture), which is reflexively recursive, the system achieves patterns through autopoiesis itself. For example, the synchronicities of street light systems within a city or non-Gaussian outliers such as black swans in the stock market. The initial conditions (time=0) of said original categories serve as a window into the fractal geometry of a simple Euclidean construct becoming complex-valued, such as a mere triangle (a pre-modern symbol) becoming reiterated onto itself into a Sierpinski triangle (the global epistemological landscape). Following Reza Negarestani, such conditions should not be confused with mere “ontological monism”, but rather the “nature-culture” dyad is an epistemic distinction.
Nina Cristante NUM October 10 - 27, 2020
Whichever payment that has been verbally agreed should be confirmed in written form in the contract to avoid any misunderstandings. I feel I have been a fair, respectful and on point lodger so it is not in my nature to lie. I will be happy to pay the bill if featuring somewhere in the contract that was emailed or handed to me when moving in as I cannot simply pay because I trust we spoken about it once six months ago.
“I’m a practician. I’m in the kitchen and have to cook. That’s my relation to it.”
-Michael Krebber, “Painting Forever”
(Interview with Isabelle Graw for Kaleidoscope Magazine)
A text has no interior. This wasn’t always the case: before the age of industry and capital was the age of hermetics; an object had meaning because it had authenticity, and it had authenticity because it had scarcity. All reproduction was an act of craftsmanship and sacrifice, a life for a life.
The artist in a world of stocks and flows of capital and data no longer wields the power to create irreplaceable progeny. A given artifact is but a husk adrift in an interminable sea of diagrams, viscous oceans of arrows connecting endless productions and reproductions alike, each object distinguishable to denizens of the network only to the extent that they inhabit different roles. Today’s artist, no less an inhabitant, is always submerged in the medium, their signature found only within the inimitable waves they make with each connection they draw.
As a persona, the artist remains the same: they still rise, shine, shit, eat, fuck; because they must. Once possessed by gods and made the servomechanism of a cruel telos, the contemporary artisan is every bit as hands-on in their compulsive grasping at endlessly multiplying avenues of inference running between paintings, sculptures, galleries, exhibitions, reviews, calendar dates, websites, bits, bytes, cables, wire transfers, hedge funds, governments, arms deals, wars, green zones, and every other conceivable type of occupation. Their medium on the other hand has nonetheless changed: once tasked with excavating mimesis from a platonic solid, they now traverse surfaces in order to carve out new concavities amidst their collective topology.
To the untrained eye, such behavior looks like little more than a self-indulgent love affair with artifice, ornament, obfuscation, irony, and kitsch, when the truth is that this prolonged neoteny exists on account of an intransigent devotion to their craft that takes their medium too seriously to allow themselves to be ossified by fairy-tales and platitudes about content and identity. They are dandies, flaneurs, idiots who give their full involvement to the idiosyncrasies of each brushstroke and their full attention to the distinct context of each viewing as a way of relentlessly hacking new escape routes from a constant encroachment of cybernetic reification. These distanciated inductions of haecceity are by no means haphazard but rather actions carried out through a matrix of scrupulously considered decisions that directly refutes the impotence of figurative painting a la Baselitz/Lupertz, the senescence of idea/systems art a la Tomas Schmit, or any other such reproductions of chimeric pretenses.
Without painstakingly cultivated skill, one’s actions, no matter how superficially rebellious, remain mere permutations of an operationalized system of identity, marked-to-market catharsis dressed in the manufactured garb of rebellion. Thus the Fluxus movement, though prescient in their professed emphasis of process over product, was looked upon with contempt by Dieter Roth for their inability to master any matter at hand enough to exceed extant syntax. Positing that one comes up with a “novel” idea independent of some supposedly subsequent act of craftsmanship puts the cart before the horse; any truly unique concept is inextricable from some corresponding practice, conceived only to the extent that, when the time comes, one actually gets in the kitchen and cooks.
Flyer by Ben Schumacher
Bonnie Lovina August 1 - 31, 2020
Bryant Canelo Bryant & His Stuff June 15 - July 4, 2020
Valentino Gojcaj March 12 - April 2, 2020
In Lieu of a Press Release: COVID-19 Update
There’s a character named Selena in the 2003 film 28 Days Later. Her monologue begins as such: “It started as rioting. But right from the beginning you knew this was different. Because it was happening in small villages, market towns. And then it wasn't on the TV any more. It was in the street outside. It was coming in through your windows. It was a virus.” The virus spreads in such a banal manner at first that you don’t even realize the apocalypse is here, or near. Messianic visions of grandeur and delusional Mayan predictions that the world will erupt in flames all of a sudden have never proved reliable. Indeed, it’s the slow-burning, zombified virus that spreads with a nefariously languor.
Valentino Gojcaj’s show at Triest coincides with the COVID-19 pandemic. Coincidence? Probably, but there’s no way to be sure. Who is Tino Gojcaj and what is his artwork? I don’t know, because I’m self-quarantined and I imagine he is too. Gojcaj’s show, however, happens to work on your iPhone—a QR code will lead you there, bringing you first to a private Instagram page with no profile picture or bio or name.
There’s a certain beauty to the sincerity of Valentino’s paintings at Triest. There’s a three-quarters-finished painting of the Hollywood sign in the Hills, perched over LA, but in the painting we see a small gold star at the bottom of the hill. There’s a painting of the QR code, in a stained-rag color that brings the digital to the physical and back to the digital again. There is—what looks to be—a banana in a purse going through security at an airport. The bag is being scanned by a desperately exhausted TSA agent. The banana is a gun, but it’s also a piece of sweet fruit. Gojcaj is working here in colloquial, contemporary imagery, instantly recognizable artifacts. A code, a sign, a security screen. Hollywood, airports, iPhones. There’s no distinct narrative, but there is a digital string or USB-C cable connecting each painting to the last. The palette is soft—the mood is friendly and unassuming. The space is America, and the subject is likely America, too.
There is no COVID to be seen in Gojcaj’s paintings. But that is precisely why it is possible that it is there. In the bag, in the hills or in the oils. There is only one way to be sure you will avoid the virus: scan the QR code and browse Gojcaj’s work from the safety of your home.
Valentino Gojcaj’s most recent project consists of a nameless collective, a QR code as the face of a brand— fashion and software intertwined. The exhibition also features five paintings.
Andy Heck Boyd & Bryant Canelo February 7 – March 5, 2020
The neo-Victorian “philosophy of brick” was a plan to return to the humble domestic constructions of the Victorian era in rejection of the concrete-obsessed modernists of the 1950s. Brick houses are humble beginnings for humble people. They are safe and solid. But bricks are not always for solid foundations or structural integrity. Bricks rupture houses and create a path for chaos in the form of walls, graffiti, algae.
Bryant Canelo and Andy Heck Boyd’s exhibition at Triest is about bricks and their liberation from meaning. Boyd’s series of brick wall paintings creates a world where bricks and other industrial materials play with animated characters, cars, toys and colors. The world moves from wall to floor to chair to table: Canelo’s clumps of Spanish moss cover the wooden floor and a large piece of leather is draped across a table and chair in a manner that begs to be painted. A canvas laying in the middle of the room which reads “your [sic] so broken” begs to be treaded upon. The exhibition as a small map-less habitat.
The paintings are direct, sincere, simplistic, and simultaneously ironic, taunting. Rapidly alternating between extreme minimalism (a few brush strokes of red on a small canvas) and material-maximalism (thick layers of oils, tape, various other unknown materials), the paintings display the variety of approaches to constructing the Boyd-Canelo toy-universe (cartoonoverse). The cartoonoverse, whose characters include Mickey Mouse and a middle-aged Glenn Gould, is open – like the bricks that make up its wall and the oil paint that fills its center, this world dries over an extended period of time after the artists have left.
Being an open system, there’s a certain amount of chaos that is allowed to flow through the paintings and assault the viewer. Simple representation or extractable meaning proves elusive – MESSAGE: (no message), a white canvas tuned nearly grey from the heavy confluence of various materials with “MESSAGE” written atop in black, avoids any hint at attempting to expand on truisms, which is why I don’t feel the need to destroy it.
Bricks and toys have become objects of particular fascination recently in academic philosophy with regards to thinking through AI, cybernetics and games. It turns out LEGOs (bricks) are more representative of the world than the world is of itself. There is nothing Carl Andre about these bricks, because they do not seek to bore, but rather to open up a world of cartoons and games. Glenn Gould will play his red antique piano, mickey gets up from his chair and reads from a book, Lou Reed drives a black Ferrari into a brick wall. Fun will be had and no meaning will be found.
Jamie Lynn Klein December 8 - January 2, 2020