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Another Saturday group show like Chelsea’s Proustian summers, listless weekends pose the question of whether one shouldn’t have something better to do than stroll through galleries of names. The group show's contextless fracture splintering into frames of ambiguous images scrolled through, visualize a surface of the exhibition, a style evoked through the dissolve of the individual. Like CAD’s August Review literalizing the summer’s dreamy remembrance of when things weren’t just lists of next year’s maybes. A new one posted already.
