New York

View of “Elaine Cameron-Weir,” 2019.

View of “Elaine Cameron-Weir,” 2019.

Elaine Cameron-Weir


Let’s get these out of the way: A BDSM dungeon for alchemist Bitcoin investors. A druid hideaway in the abandoned Palo Alto headquarters of the corporation Theranos. A crossover between Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones, where Walter White cooks meth for White Walkers. I could go on. This is the kind of prose that the art of Elaine Cameron-Weir inspires. Her assemblage sculptures and their lengthy, loopy titles—e.g., at the end of the line an echo sliding downtown the mercurial reflective pool of a familiar voice and me a person it never made real in the mirrors of my own halls (all works 2019)—variously suggest laboratories, armories, cloisters, catwalks, abattoirs, shrines, hospitals, or crypts. Comb through reviews of her past exhibitions and you’ll find several gallant attempts to capture their prevailing mood in a single pithy turn of phrase. Part of the pleasure of her work is making

to keep reading

Artforum print subscribers have full access to this article. Please sign in below.

Not registered for Register here.

SUBSCRIBE NOW and save up to 65% off the newsstand price for full online access to this issue and our archive.

Order the PRINT EDITION of the December 2019 issue for $17 or the ONLINE EDITION for $5.99.

* This rate applies to U.S. domestic subscriptions.