Paul Druecke’s series “A Social Event Archive,” 1997–2007, forms a typology of American social life—weddings and birthday parties, graduations and high school dances, baseball games, buffet lines, and card nights. Over the course of ten years, the artist solicited photographs by traveling door to door in his Milwaukee neighborhood, completing the project the year the iPhone was unleashed and photo albums dissipated into the digital. The result is 731 images that span the American Century, ranging from the monochrome print to the glossy color snapshot, the ceremoniously posed to the candid, in
Rainbow-colored amoebas are among the sculptures posing with selfie sticks in Rachel Harrison’s latest exhibition. Banned in over forty art institutions worldwide, the selfie stick perhaps best expresses the pictorial excesses of our time, collapsing the distinction between author and subject. In addition to this object, Harrison also assimilates other types of support structures—easels, pedestals, and even the metal framing that braces the white cube itself, the latter invoking Michael Asher. A plaster busts rests on raw plywood while cinder blocks, covered in Styrofoam and painted in a Dr.
“You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams,” the imprisoned Cleopatra, longing for Antony’s face to appear in her sleep, tells the guard Dolabella in Shakespeare’s play. Taking its title from this scene, Mary Simpson’s latest exhibition, “Boys or Women,” explores a tension between ungovernable dreams and the forces that police or discredit them. In photo collages and oil paintings she pits the sensual and instinctive against reason––probing an interplay between narrative and abstraction, control and impulse, geometric and amorphous primal shapes.
A standout is Tiger and Goat, 2015, a diptych