New York

Casey Cook

Lehmann Maupin | New York, W 24 Street

I like Casey Cook’s paintings, but the professionalism behind them makes me nervous. She seems to take painting as a closed system, an array of readymade elements from which the artist selects in order to cannily recombine them (if possible) into a new constellation of familiar components. Taken singly, every detail of Cook’s canvases recalls something in the work of one of her contemporaries or recent precursors: Kevin Appel’s weightless architectural geometry; Inka Essenhigh’s dispersed composition; John Wesley–style comic-book eroticism; a Rymanesque play with signature and date as formal elements; ’80s-style commodity discourse; and, sometimes, bravado-filled titles Julian Schnabel wouldn’t flinch at. Oddest of all, perhaps, is an evident affection for color schemes straight out of late Patrick Caulfield. And yet the paintings don’t feel eclectic; in fact, they’re strict. Cook has a

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