Amy Mayfield


A chintzy drape and kooky lettering cut from various materials spelling out the backward show title, “Doog vs. Live,” marked the entrance to Amy Mayfield’s absurdly ornamented theater. The exhibition was festooned with craft projects, colloquial decor, and a selection of paintings that appear to exhaust every possible method of applying acrylic paint. Underfoot was a multicolored geometric field, a pattern of triangles painted on Masonite flooring. Houseplants, blobby expanding-foam stalagmites adorned with blooms of push-pins, pheasant feathers tucked behind rheostat switches, and animal cutouts glued to the walls and a heat vent transformed the gallery into an overstimulated hobby imbroglio. Clearly this was a show about overabundance and superfluity. Yet, more precisely, it was a hackneyed demonstration of undisciplined imagination, frenetic productivity, and acrylic paint.


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