seattle

Michael Fajans

Greg Kucera Gallery

Superficially the subject matter of Michael Fajans’ systematically blasé photorealist paintings is the everyday commerce between people. There is no heroic isolation of figures, no self-conscious myth making, no exploration of the psyche. In Fitting, 1988, two men with their eyes cast downward are trying on coats in a store, aided by attendants. In Ukiyo-e, 1989, a ballroom-dancing elderly Oriental couple dip and laugh with tipsy familiarity. These snapshotlike images are calculated to have a random and pedestrian look. Any attempt by the viewer to infuse a little fantasy into these irritatingly matter-of-fact images is perfunctorily aborted. Less Grail-seeking souls than simply undistinguished people who have temporarily lost their way, the two middle-aged women in Bolivia, 1988, lean over a pastel map laid out on the hood of a car. Done with stencils and acrylic spray paint, only the

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