New York

Liz Craft

Marianne Boesky Gallery

A macho female magickal childe whose parents, siblings, babysitters, and alter egos smoke too much pot; a coolly uncool troller in the junkyards, souvenir shops, dens, and bedrooms of an ur-’70s California of the mind; a savvy navigator of the lineage of hyperreal figurative sculpture that plays oedipal anxiety against consumerist ennui: The sensibility animating Liz Craft’s busy roomful of cast bronze objects was all these. Now participating in the 2004 Whitney Biennial, the young Angeleno was groomed for art stardom before she finished UCLA, and she has no qualms about asserting an abject post-Pop irony that courts serious collectors and high production values. Her first major New York show operationalized kitsch in an almost preternaturally efficient manner. The work is scatological and scathing, but what sets it apart from the Charles Rays and Paul McCarthys to which it might be compared

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