You know I love dolls. That’s what John Waters snarled at Marion and me when we dragged our favored doll Carol Anne to meet her Uncle John at a book signing at Gagosian’s Upper East Side bookstore. Though I think of John’s demented doll declaration frequently, his words resonated especially deeply as soon as I … Continue reading
It’s hard to argue with the startling statement of two–hopefully–plastic turds plopped on delicately ornate dollhouse beds. Hung purposefully a little too high on the wall, viewers have to crane their necks to peek at the poop. However, nothing quite prepares you for the confrontation of the appalling yet appealing combination of the uncanny and the … Continue reading
“My mother is dead. My father is dead. I’m gay. I’d like to be a poet. This is my house,” unsettlingly proclaims artist Jordan Wolfson’s haunting creation, (Female figure), during both the introduction and conclusion of its seven-minute cycle in Wolfson’s solo exhibition at the David Zwirner Gallery. And it certainly is her house now as she conjures … Continue reading