It's pretty clear this is not Bacon. And it's pretty clear it's close, but later, oh, so much later, more angry, desperate, less attentive to the gentle tones melancholy brings to cool you, to ease the mad desire for pain.
And please don't mention the Fontanas or Pollocks, please don't make it all dry as a conceptual artist's funeral curator. If it reaches deep enough, why transfigure every last drop of paint? Damn it, be angry, and moreover, be angry well. Make it work. Turn the anger into something.
Construct. The clean, fresh lines contain the space of lovely, furry things. The charming mirrors and subtle lights bring us to the genteel fheeling of artsyness. "Pardon the mess." "The mess? What mess?" "[making an unclear gesture with the hand, maybe as if to show a landscape] Well, you know..." "Would you look at that beautiful plant! And the humor, the dynamic humor! Tell me, where do you get these ideas of yours?" "[still somewhat confused] Ideas? Ah, yes.
You know, it's all in what you choose to see."
All works are by David Altmejd (in order of appearance: Sarah Altmejd (2003), The Builders (2005), Untitled (2005)).
