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Wednesday, July 28, 2010

An open letter to Harrison Keys

Harrison Keys...shit, man. Why you gotta play with my heart like this? I went to the opening for your show Pressure Luck at Get This! Gallery last Saturday, all atwitter with anticipation—I’ve much enjoyed most of what I’ve seen you do in the past, and I was hungry for more. This was going to be a juicy feast of tasty art goodness, I just knew it. I even skipped dinner. And then you go and leave me feeling empty.

so have more interesting things.
  • so have more interesting things.
Here’s the thing: your show is not bad. The succinct pieces gave the room an easy rhythm—it felt good to be in the gallery, surrounded by your work. It wasn’t until I started having my little tête-à-tête with each piece that I realized I was surrounded by deceptively-seasoned tofu art; it looks like a burger, but it ain’t. Once you get up close, you realize there’s no meat at all. This, Mr. Keys, made me very sad. I’ll explain.

At first, I thought I was pissed because a lot of the pieces appear to invoke the same tired old quarter-life crisis, bittersweet-disappointment-spiked-with-leftover-adolescent-idealism that hipsters have been employing in art for a painfully long time. Which is fine, I guess—we all get amnesty for going through a phase of expressing those feelings, either through bad poetry, bad music, or bad art. It just usually occurs during the days of tidal teenage hormones and biblical acne. But then I realized that it only appears that this is what’s happening. In truth, there’s not damn near enough emotion to even pull that off. After some of the killer shit I’ve seen from you, Harry, I wasn’t expecting these good-looking but disconnected missives of superficiality.

Im feelin the ambiguity too.
  • I'm feelin' the ambiguity too.
So I guess what I’m saying is that you haven’t done anything wrong, Harrison darling. The work in Pressure Luck is clean, vibrant, sometimes (kinda) funny...ya know, it’s got some things going for it. But the whole colorful, line-based, kindergarten-for-grown-ups thing is being done a lot these day—if you are going to make this kind of work, then you are the one who should be doing it better than the rest of the pack. This style doesn’t pack enough technical game for you to not go after our brains. Maybe my expectations were too high, but there’s a fine line between irreverence and irrelevance.

If the technique was going to be (can I say this?) simple, and the design sparse, then the content should have brought the bang. Pared-down paintings of powerful subjects are fantastic. But I wasn’t even demanding power; I would have settled happily for something particularly insightful or clever. And as I made my way from piece to piece, looking for connection, starving for a bit of emotional evocation, I didn’t find it.

no, i am not.
  • no, i am not.

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