I am a garden, blooming with seeds planted by those who’ve walked beside me
Not There Gallery
Nicholas Wilder Forman and Elliot Alexander Biagiotti
Chinatown, Los Angeles- Pernilla Winberg at Not There Gallery is not there. A private viewing of the deinstall of I am a garden, blooming with seeds planted by those who’ve walked beside me is held on Thursday, August 21, for yours truly. Winberg’s prints of digitally manipulated paintings have already been removed while the real paintings wait their turn to be taken down, wrapped up, and shipped somewhere, maybe. The show is but a memory of itself.
The vibrant works attract a mob of last minute attendees who glare through the windows. Their comments are picked up on the microphones we have in all corners of the city.
“ At first I wanted to go blegh. I’m scared of this color. Over saturation is so oversaturated in the pop art mainstream. It is easy to forget that using the extremes of the rainbow are still fair grounds.. And that they can be very attractive.”
Two clowns seem to ponder the works on the east wall. One of the clowns is balding really bad.
“I really am fond of these. I want to see them in person and tell my friends to see them with me, but alas… let’s see them on my little phone… hmm… wow…as i look at the pieces on instagram right now, I get a lot of the same joy. They’re captured well. Could their capture be good enough? You saw the show right?”
“Yes, I saw the closing. I really consider it a feat how strong Winberg’s work through any framing. I think she knows this too, with the atypical inclusion of these museum gift shop sized prints. On the surface, one can read it as more carefree, but they are really just as stunning as the paintings are. She is flexing her composition and color muscles for everyone.
The one thing that tiffed me however was the press had no mention of space. Beyond the colors, that’s the throughline to me, how working with memory, even through photo, requires real time travel. The angles of interiors are overlapping and running away from each other. A memory can’t be captured completely. It has to be abstracted.”
“They are familiar and enjoyable. They are striking purely on the surface, to me. That renders them forgettable. But you can always be reminded of work, if you want to be. It’s something I could enjoy being reminded of.”
I am a garden, blooming with seeds planted by those who’ve walked beside me is closed.
Score:
Bravado Fleet Margarin Prince
----- July 24, 2025
The Sunday of Life
Bel Ami
Nicholas Wilder Forman and Elliot Alexander Biagiotti
Chinatown, Los Angeles- Bel Ami is alert. The gallery’s doors are open on the night of Saturday, July 19, for The Sunday of Life, a group show featuring the works of Clémentine Adou, Lucille Groos, Patrick Jackson, Morag Keil, Chadwick Rantanen, and Bedros Yeretzian.
A line of screens delivers a series of video works: Puppets, flies in the car, etcetera. On the far wall is a book-display-matrix of some of the more (and less) sensational titles from the “Who Was” children’s series of books. Two groups of everyday objects rest on military-blanket plinths. In the main room, the objects are arranged in a tight grid, each one untouched by the others, while in the side room they are piled haphazardly atop each other. The latter pile is joined by a projection of Jack Skellington’s head rotating in hypnotic circles. Artistocrates gather on the balcony en masse. Symbolism abounds.
“No, that’s not what the release is saying. Ok it’s like. You know Baudrilliard, right? It’s kind of the whole hyperreality thing. We’re completely detached from a material reality. But not just our reality is detached, we are detached from what it means to be human, because now we’re hyperfestive. And then there’s some Fukuyama in there too so, yeah its like ‘we are fucked’ vibes. But all the work is embracing it. So like, not fucked in a way too.”
“I like these ones [Patrick Jackson’s blanket works]. Objects look so alien when they’re unbranded and arranged to bear no obvious relationship to each other. It reminds me of Funny Games. Probably because that movie is good about giving weight and uncommon tethers to ordinary objects. Egg, golf club, tv remote. That’s the movie in three parts. I don’t know if this one is trying to be a movie, really, but it’s fun to think about.”
As the crowd grows, the balcony flexes under their weight. LA city officials advise against continuing the event. Many of the conversations shift to the topic of audience and participation.
“I like how we’re trapped with the works under the ideology of hyperfestivization. Maybe that’s why I feel kind of anxious and weird here. Or maybe it's because my ex is here too. But it makes me wonder how the show holds up when there isn't a crowd. An empty festival. That’s way more depressing. The whole thing is depressing I guess. If the art is just embracing it, it feels kind of shallow. What, there’s nothing beyond the festival? We’re at the end of history, and we should just celebrate it?”
“We are DEFINITELY at the festival right now.” “Haha totally.”
Jack Skellington’s face starts rotating faster, but only one person notices.
The pizza is really good. Triple Beam Pizza.
The Sunday of Life is on view at Bel Ami from July 19, 2025 to September 13, 2025.
Score:
Bouyant Chisel Weltschmerz For
----- July 18, 2025
In The Opening
Chris Sharp
Nicholas Wilder Forman and Elliot Alexander Biagiotti
East Hollywood, Los Angeles- Chris Sharp’s new location is a void. The freshly appointed space at 5538 Santa Monica Boulevard was inaugurated on Saturday, July 5, with In the Opening, a presentation of glazed ceramics by the Oakland-based spousal artist duo CrossLypka.
The white walls transition seamlessly into marble floors that glow with light cast from a ceiling fixture shaped like a riot shield.
“It’s like I am walking around in a website.”
Apparently, summer can not be neutralized by this aseptic looking gallery. The heat of the afternoon seethes, and around 30 in active attendance suffocate. They even die. Their bodies are tossed out back on ice, alongside the Modelos and Justin Cabernets. To some of the survivors, the warmth induces a cerebral effect for the work of Tyler Cross and Kyle Lypka.
“From a distance, the symmetry of the pieces appears engineered. Factory parts split clean down their center. As I get closer however, the minute details— craggly edges, crystals tucked behind ridges, the rough hewn textures of the ceramic— remind me of the intense and often imprecise power of the ocean shaping the world around us. I feel like I’m at the beach, everything melting in the sun… god I’m sweaty. Do you think people can tell I’m sweating?”
Pawns and players of the night fixated on the communication between the colorful Frankenthaler-esque glaze and the amorphous ceramic.
“The colors play with each other direly, carrying friction between their shared edges. In “sunk hood,” the yellows of the base claw up the middle, hoping to make gradient with the red and black streaks of the sides. It’s oxymoronic for the glaze, which encases the form like a coffin, to give it such life.”
Still others remarked on the accompanying press release.
“I wouldn’t consider these to be ‘alien semiotics’ at all. To me, there is no lost communication or forgotten message. These pieces are reflective of the natural world, which is what makes it timeless. If there is any message contained herein, it would be the eternal dialogue between humans and the earth.”
It’s an under-appreciated feat for two people to be able to make a work so singular.
In the opening is on view at Chris Sharp from July 5, 2025 to August 6, 2025.
Score: