A layer of conceptual strata as addendum, Beaver takes photos from the "unending" stream of Instagram foodporn, and consecrates them in big thick crusty blobs of paints. Its annoying conceptual gesture dissolves the once interesting paintings into imaging the much more interesting direct visual feed of people’s egoed desires, the entirety of raw production of an entire population’s uploaded desire, Instagram, a total headfuck to look at. Instead here we have some relief of low interest paintings that were kind of interesting until put into the context of that abyss of spiraling accumulation of so much network juice. That old vampire trick of draining one thing into a another and leaving behind a corpse. I kind of liked the paintings.
