New York

View of “Harry Dodge,” 2019. Photo: Jackie Furtado.

View of “Harry Dodge,” 2019. Photo: Jackie Furtado.

Harry Dodge

Callicoon Fine Arts

Poised in a sweet spot between ugly and beautiful, kind of dumb and rather brilliant, Harry Dodge’s dense, idea-rich show at Callicoon Fine Arts proposed incongruity and indeterminacy as a tonic for worn-out subjectivities. “User” was Dodge’s first exhibition with the gallery and included a range of formats typically deployed by the artist: sculptural bricolage for the tabletop or floor; lo-fi video in the service of hi-fi philosophical queries; and works on paper, especially his Raymond Pettibon in the Land of Ooo–style drawings, which often contain wry, heady commentary by sentient inanimate objects. The sculptures—casual-seeming and often homely accumulations of modified infrastructural flotsam, such as pipes, plywood, and bits of hardware, set into unwieldy bouquets that suggest a kind of junkyard ikebana—were touched by a certain élan vital. Dodge has said that he wants his awkward

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