new-york

Meg Cranston

Boesky & Callery

Even after poststructuralism’s contestation of subjectivity and conceptualism’s demolition job on the art object, a stubborn residue remains. For lack of a better term, Meg Cranston calls this residue “soul,” and works at its contours with lyrical wit. Two recent sculptural installations illustrated how Cranston continues to push the bodily envelope of the type of conceptual California scheming with which she has been associated for over a decade. Mind, Body, Soul, 1997, consisted of a large rectangular block of wood, some rope, and a handcart. It was as if everything depended on this red-painted wagon hefting the wooden corpus held in place by the rope: the podium-shaped wood block, the exhibition, maybe even the fate of the soul itself. No human touch was involved, save the heaving, tying, and pushing of the generic block into its apparently arbitrary place in the gallery. The possibility

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