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The two most retentive painters around. An anality of one expressive, smeared on walls, and the other's compressed tight to form diamonds of expression. Krebber is the embodiment of a public's contemporary art fears, the disordered body, Quaytman's crystalline structure a slick transparent version. Either way its desiccated enough at this point to be allowed into clean halls of adult history.
see too: “The Contract” at Essex Street, Michael Krebber at Nagel Draxler, Michael Krebber at Daniel Buchholz