Mira Dayal

  • Nina Katchadourian, The Recarcassing Ceremony, 2016, digital video, color, sound, 24 minutes, 24 seconds.
    interviews March 26, 2019

    Nina Katchadourian

    The categories of work listed on Nina Katchadourian’s website include “uninvited collaborations with nature,” “charts and systems,” and “language/translation.” Stemming from these topics, the artist’s highly structured experiments often begin with found objects and absurd situations that she disentangles, only to find that they are part of the larger webs of identity and relationships. Her current exhibition at Fridman Gallery in New York, “Ification,” includes several of her best-known pieces in addition to The Recarcassing Ceremony, 2016, a video that revisits an old recording of a childhood

  • Marcel Storr, Untitled, ca. 1968, graphite, colored ink, and varnish on paper,  20 × 24".

    Marcel Storr

    One can imagine self-taught artist Marcel Storr (1911–1976) in 1964, his head bent low over the Paris streets he was employed to sweep, as he studied the staggered patterns of the cobblestones. Back at his home in the ninth arrondissement, not far from the ornate Église de la Sainte-Trinité and the historic Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, he would dream up his own extraordinary ecclesiastical sites through a series of graphite and colored-ink drawings, roughly sixty-four in total, that he produced over the course of his lifetime. Though the significant gap in information about Storr’s life prohibits a

  • Eleanor Ray, Wyoming Window, June, 2018, oil on panel, 6 1/2 x 8".
    picks January 18, 2019

    Eleanor Ray

    I am standing in a sparse room, looking out a window. The view is familiar because of its frequent depiction. The bright light outside dictates harsh shadows, dark triangles within the concrete boxes of Donald Judd’s sculptures arranged elegantly on the plains of Marfa, Texas.

    The painting I describe, Marfa Window, 2017, is one in a group of works by Eleanor Ray. I stand close enough to her small panels that the images break down, becoming a series of soft geometric forms. The compositions have the tightness of photographs, and the light is plein air. Art and earth play shadow games. A window


    A KNIFE PUNCTURES FLESH. The blade enters a nasal passageway, and the camera shakes with every cut. Tweezers penetrate the frame and tug out a lump of bloody tissue and bone. “Nothing to worry about,” the surgeon says. Quivering atop a piece of medical gauze, the extracted substance resembles a slug, or a sliver of tongue. “Who are you?” the young patient asks, frowning. “We are your inferior turbinates,” the lump replies, now personified by a pair of adolescents wrapped in pink sleeping bags. Thus begins the young patient’s nightmare, starring a giant papier-mâché nose—a proxy for her own.


    Curated by Elena Filipovic

    Do you know why love is shown in the shape of a red heart? The narratives in Wong Ping’s beguiling animations revolve around obsessions not only with every kind of human appendage—long noses included—but also with things: Popsicles, sweat, teeth, turnstiles, and videotapes. It’s exciting, then, to hear that Wong’s first institutional solo exhibition will focus on his wonderfully visceral videos (including the sequel to Wong Ping’s Fables 1, 2017, which will debut here) as well as on his bemusing sculptures and installations, existing and newly commissioned.

  • EJ Hill, A Commemoration, 2018, neon, 47 × 93".

    EJ Hill

    A white neon sign announced the subjects of EJ Hill’s “An Unwavering Tendency Toward the Center of a Blistering Sun”: HERE STOOD HE, / STOICALLY AND VALIANTLY, / FOR THOSE WHOSE BURDENS LIE / DARKLY / IN EVEN THE HIGHEST OF NOONS. / JUNE 3 – SEPTEMBER 2, 2018. Given that the sign was rendered in capital letters, a viewer might have first thought that “he” referred to the almighty “Him.” The dates also suggested that this could have been culled from a eulogy. Both references are useful, as those days bracketed Hill’s performance at the Hammer Museum’s “Made in L.A. 2018” this past summer, for

  • Vladislav Markov, xC, 2017, tar and gasoline on vintage toilet paper, dimensions variable.

    Brian Dario, Liza Lacroix, and Vladislav Markov

    The palette of this three-person show was dominated by brown hues: in the crude-oil-like sheen of paintings by Liza Lacroix, the grimy residues of sweaty hands and raw materials in sculptures by Brian Dario, and the delicate gradations of burnt umber to dark tan in an installation by Vladislav Markov. Materially, each work was in some way stained. The protective panels of suede in Dario’s Foam, 2018—a foot-and-a-half-high stack of eighteen single, used work gloves—looked rough, teased into a texture resembling sandpaper. Markov’s long sheets of old toilet paper, xC, 2017, which had

  • View of “Dorian Gaudin,” 2018.
    picks October 02, 2018

    Dorian Gaudin

    In the center of Dorian Gaudin’s current show is The coffee cup spring (all works 2018), a giant yellow conveyor belt that forms an elaborate loop through the space—a rectangular prism with additional horizontal, vertical, and upside-down segments. The belt itself is composed only of two chains, which carry not consumer products but two lone objects rendered in fiberglass: a disposable coffee cup and a houseplant. Jerking along endlessly at a rate slower than a moving sidewalk, the objects almost mount a commentary on postconsumer waste. (Perhaps the brown planter could be made from the recycled


    AT THE START of each of his “Cursor” performances, Will Rawls introduces the working concept for the series: “Cursor, from the Latin root meaning ‘run’ or ‘runner,’ is a movable, usually black, and blinking figure that indicates the position on a screen where the next character will appear, or where user action is needed.” He then proceeds to the rear of the audience, where, taking a seat, he begins typing into a document that is projected at the front for all to see. Sometimes enunciating each letter and symbol as an individual sound, some-times pronouncing whole words or syllables, Rawls’s

  • View of “Richanda Rhoden,” 2018.
    picks September 05, 2018

    Richanda Rhoden

    Richanda Rhoden’s story ended like many others. Her husband’s work found its way into a permanent collection after his death, following a life full of admirable exhibitions and honors. His New York Times obituary mentions her only as his wife. Her obituary in the Brooklyn Heights Press (the Rhodens’ neighborhood publication) mentions him, his work, and finally her “very beautiful paintings,” most of which never left their house—aside from the dozen or so that were selected by her neighbor, Emily Weiner (one of Soloway’s cofounders), for this posthumous first exhibition.

    Such a story could easily


    The woman is cast for a role. The makeup artist prepares her face: eyeliner, mascara, glycerin. Her lids flutter, a fake tear falls, the camera shutter clicks. The image circulates widely. Anne Collier finds it. She rephotographs, enlarges, crops, and prints it. She hangs it in a gallery. A viewer is transfixed by this close-up of a damp cheek: What happened—why did she cry? It was neither from pain, nor from joy, but for profit. It was all for show. Collier will have her own show of shows of roughly forty pictures taken from advertisements, album covers, and assorted

  • Wong Ping, Dear, Can I Give You a Hand?, 2018,  video (color, sound, 12 minutes) with custom-modified LED panels, fiberglass and polyester resin with motor and LEDs, and plastic wind-up toys with spray paint and metal foil, dimensions variable overall.
    interviews August 14, 2018

    Wong Ping

    Gradient horizons, retro computer graphics, and emojis figure prominently in the animated “fables” of the Hong Kong–based artist Wong Ping, who made his New York debut this past February in the New Museum’s triennial, “Songs for Sabotage.” Shortly after, his video Dear, Can I Give You a Hand?, 2018—involving an elderly character navigating the death of his wife, the allure of his daughter-in-law, a severe case of diabetes, and an afterlife in a computer server cemetery’s porn site—premiered in “One Hand Clapping,” which is on view at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York until October