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    3.5 star rating
    30 reviews
    1.1 Miles away from Gavin Brown's Enterprise Corp

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  • 5.0 star rating
    3 check-ins

    Very cool gallery! There's a great slogan painted on the facade: "the whole world + the work = the whole world." I know this sounds corny, but every time I see it I feel inspired.

    Last time I went the inside also had words on the walls--not painted on but put there by a projector for an installation by Frances Stark. The work was based on her internet chats with Italian men. As far as I could tell the text was a transcription of video chats where Italians were showing her their dicks and vice versa. But the words made it into the art, and I was glad that Gavin Brown's Enterprise put big couches in the middle of the gallery so I could get cozy for 30+ minutes of reading.

    Frances Stark made this work for an important exhibition in Venice last summer and the guys she chats with--as I mentioned before--are Italian, like the people in Venice. The projections are timed to the rhythm of music from a Mozart opera, which has lyrics in Italian, even though Mozart spoke German. But the lyrics are gone, just like the images of these Italian guys who were typing to Frances Stark in English. All these removals and reminders of geographical distance really made me think about the distance between an artist and her audience, because in most cases the artist "isn't in the picture," so to speak, when the audience encounters the work. But, at the same time, the audience wants the artist to expose a private side of herself so they can have a vicarious experience of the genuine emotional connection that's missing from their everyday lives. That expectation for art is basically the same impulse that sends people to sites that promise spontaneous and exciting random encounters, like Chatroulette, even though (or maybe because?) all these sites have to offer is a bunch of dicks. There's something like a "lost in translation" problem there when you can't match your desires up with the desires of the guy who wants you to look at his dick. Same thing with the artist's anxiety over whether what she wants to show is what people want to see. Or when you tell an Italian guy that stab is a verb and he thinks it's a dick. I'm pretty sure that's what Frances Stark was thinking about when she made this work, given the way she mixes together "I'm gonna chat with guys in Italy" with "I'm gonna show my art in Italy."

    I got a little carried away there but I thought this was super interesting and also somewhat relevant to my point, which is: Gavin Brown's Enterprise is a good place to have an intimate experience with some good art.

  • 4.0 star rating

    I don't get down here often enough but I really love this gallery. I think they show compelling work that is topical and relevant, but they don't try and avoid beauty. I've seen a lot of gorgeous stuff here. Way out of my price range, but I consider most galleries in this area to basically be museums anyway.

    The Elizabeth Peyton show there in March was stunning. I spent a lot of time enjoying the tiny little paintings she made. It was all glamour scaled down.

    I haven't been down to see the Bjarne Melgaard show yet, but he is not so much my taste.

    It's a trek but it's almost always worth it to get down from the Chelsea art scene. And everytime I am intrigued by the picnic table where a lot of the staff works. It's odd and cool!

  • 2.0 star rating
    First to Review

    ...I wasn't sure about that, but the tone was outright boisterous the following evening at the Balice Hertling dinner, where Seth Price tested out his Gavin Brown impressions--accent and all--while the dealer egged him on. The dinner was held at Yoyo Friedrich's place, where gallery artist Nikolas Gambaroff rents a room; he merely smiled when guests such as Beatrix Ruf and Clarissa Dalrymple spilled out of the dining area and into the studio space, colonizing the worktables and couches with plates of chicken and couscous and breaking into reserve bottles of Petit Coeur. The studio was at the top of a flight of stairs so long they were positively Potemkin, assuring guests were breathless on arrival and prompting concerns that the trip down might take, in heels, much longer...

    ...we eventually did make it back down the stairs and uptown to Wade Guyton's former studio space Burning Bridges, where Fabrice Stroun had curated a show of works by Emanuel Rossetti and Balthazar Lovay. Amid projections of glossily marbleized, computer-generated bagels, a rowdy crowd of pretty, young hipsters--Peter Halley in tow--swigged tequila. (I was relieved when genial host Guyton suggested we toast our Tennessee roots with some of his secret-stash Jack. Who says you can't go home again?)...

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