The Naumanian premise “I am a painter, therefore I paint.” and any second-guess-skepticism ceded to the viewer, while painter’s axiom leaves artists whittling unfazed, Irony tempered by luxury fordist production. Surely if one cares to paint the moon this many times, one cares. The clock critiqued with a On Kawara style of deliberation, accumulation, a stickler’s dedication Laura Owens renounced.
The non-object of its subject, Bambis and the like; like so much contemporary work, displacing meaning, surely it is not here, and we look everywhere and find it nowhere, but in Man’s search for meaning in whichever camps, Frankl’s or John Waters, black satin and- are those cat food tins glued to the painting?