
Graham Hamilton
Graham Hamilton’s exhibition at Theta feels familiar yet off, like its title, “Dearly.” What a curious adverb. What on earth can you be doing if you’re doing it dearly? “Dearly beloved” evokes a wedding ceremony at the outset, though it’s a particular sort of matrimony for those loved very much; the minister might be Protestant but not fire-breathing; and it’s the ’50s, maybe the ’60s. “Dear” is so basic—that, too, is beginning to show its age, its staginess. I myself still address correspondence with the salutation “Dear,” especially when writing to strangers, but that’s all very affected,