Here in the northeast, the weather is taking a turn for the make-you-want-to-hibernate, which is why I am cozying up to Sean Landers’s painted plaid paradise. If you need to find me, I’ll be dreaming of a world where critters are made of wool LL Bean blankets while I snooze under mine.
See Landers’s North American Mammals exhibition is on view at the Petzel Gallery in New York through December 20th. Though I should note that while I enjoy these paintings (and their humor) and would love to see them in person and experience the exhibition as it is intended…there’s this lil nugget that precedes it:
“Sean Landers’s newest body of work depicts a layered story of mortality, artistic legacy, and the posterity of art. Since the 1990s Landers has produced a diverse body of paintings, sculptures, drawings, and videos that, regardless of form or style, bares the artist to the world. From stream-of-consciousness text paintings, videos, and a novel to representational narrative paintings to his abstracted and fragmented text works, Landers has used the relationship between verbal and visual language to strip the sacrosanct myths associated with art and artist while simultaneously constructing new ones in his own likeness. This exhibition continues the practice of exploring the meaning of what it is to be a contemporary maker of art and poses questions beyond the quotidian of the studio.”
This description of the show is so cruelly verbose and painfully constructed it is actually a disservice to the simple enjoyment of taking in art and honoring the skill it takes to paint a 28ft long tartan-clad whale. Unlike the dapper mammals depicted in the show, whomever wrote that statement should be shot.