new-york

Yoshihiro Suda

D'Amelio Gallery

When art mimics nature, a tension between perfection and impermanence is usually somewhere in the mix. The artist, copying natural forms with all the loyalty and hubris he or she can muster, makes an image—representing, say, a flower—that has neither life nor fragrance but is not subject to death. So is the mimetic artist a god or an obsessive fool? Both, of course, but, ultimately, that’s not the point: As the Japanese sculptor Yoshihiro Suda reminded us in his first solo show in the United States, the real point of preternatural illusion is simply the wonder of the achievement, the totality of a deception that we know at all times to be false.

Suda makes life-size, highly realistic botanical specimens using stylishly minimal means and subtle humor. Artists like Roxy Paine and Keith Edmier have recently trod similar territory, but where they cast their flowers in inorganic resins, Suda

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