Body Count.

One fine show that slipped through the cracks this month during all my tech hell was the blogger-curated show, Dangling Between The Real Thing And The Sign In The Window, at Dam, Stuhltrager in Williamsburg. Just say the name to yourself a few times. It's perfect. Curators Barry Hoggard and James Wagner took the title from a quote by minimalist rabble rouser, Morton Feldman. I was reminded of my negligence today when Art Fag City posted a link to Tom Moody's review of the show.

The show successfully investigates the difference--or the lack thereof--between hawking and hawking in our disastrous times. Jaishri Abichandani's works are a riot, but I'm not saying that they're funny. Jacques Louis Vidal's amusement park terrorscapes started as eyerollers and turned into love at second sight. The real jaw dropper though is waiting out back, like a bad dream.


Susan's C. Dessel's "Our Backyard: A Cautionary Tale" gave me nightmares while I was looking at it. I didn't even have to wait for sleep. The piece had Abu Ghraib and Hurrica Katrina sharing the same set of synapses in my head, filling the gap with shame and anger and nothing good. When they start hiding the dead it falls to artists to dig up the bodies and throw them back on the road, and Dessel has a strong arm. You can try to duck, but it won't help.

Images totally swiped from Barry Hoggard's Flickr site.