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let me in didn’t know how to operate the single left corner is a projection of the viewer,
video projector: from what I could see, this whose act of contemplation is projected and
was a strong show. McMillin’s assemblages of frozen in ten-second time lapses.
wood and foam slid down the hallway, echoing
the structural design of the elevated train (8)
track that stood outside the second-floor ADRIAn PACI Centro di Permanenza Temporanea,
gallery’s windows. According to the press Smith-Stewart
release, the video I would have seen at the end
of said hallway composited various shots of The Albanian-born Paci, who has several works
elevated trains from popular action movies; about town at the moment, has saved his first
presumably its soundtrack offered a noisy solo presentation in nYC, titled Centro di
counterpart to the external racket, thereby Permanenza Temporanea (Centre of Temporary
collapsing the boundaries of the institutional Permanence), for Smith-Stewart. A single-
and the public; of art and society… so I would channel video installation, the piece deals
have rambled. Otherwise, McMillin’s wood with the state of limbo and limited options
sculptures efficaciously infected the white that illegal immigrants in camps face. Paci
cube with remnants of their own production and consistently draws from his own experience,
transport history, and his digitally produced specifically the instance when he left Albania
abstract paintings (exhibited as c-prints) to begin a new life in Milan, when making work.
performed an aesthetic extrapolation of The grim situation of captive immigrants is
contemporary information networks comparable competently illustrated – and that may be its
to Peter Halley’s cell-and-conduit takes on fault. Perhaps the artful presentation (rather
1980s simulation, so I left feeling sufficiently than a just-the-facts-ma’am account) and
inspired. slightly stylised camerawork undermine the
gravity of the real-life socioeconomic
(11) disaster, although I’ve never heard anyone
Brooklyn vs. Baltimore, Schafler Gallery, complain about the aesthetic value in Goya’s
Pratt Institute or Manet’s paintings about war.
There was a time when Pratt was known for (9)
producing figurative painters; RISD for PeTeR GALLO I Will Not Be Judy Garland,
psychedelic drawing; and CalArts for dry Sunday
conceptualism (this era is, as yet, ongoing).
And while it may be dangerous to characterise
the pedagogical leanings of any art institution
based on the movers and shakers stocking its
faculty, it’s nevertheless a rather fun
activity to take up from time to time. This
surely would explain why curator Gabriel
Martinez recently put on a juried exhibition
of works by students from Pratt (Brooklyn) and
MICA (Baltimore), with the (unstated, though
inevitable) aim of taking stock of their
respective pedigrees. From what I could
surmise, students roughly divided into the
Oldenburgian camp (Soft Bags, 2006, the title
of Lindsay D’Addato’s sculpture, suffices to
explain) and what I would call, for lack of a
better term, ‘nostalgic naturalism’, as
evidenced in May Wilson’s prostrate plaster-
Peter Gallo, a forty-nine-year-old mental-
health professional based in northern Vermont,
has already had some shows in the city, notably
at White Columns and Freight & Volume, but is
still considered an emerging artist. Here he
presents mainly text-heavy paintings and
drawings installed in a fun, uneven fashion,
using materials as diverse as dental floss and
toothpicks, crumbled eggshell, an ironing
board, and – my favourite – a snowshoe. The
work tends to reference literature, art and
music, is dirty without being about dirt, and
is assembled out of scrap-pile or yard-sale
junk in an at-once deliberate but nonprecious
way. It’s difficult not to think of it in terms
Reviews Marathon.indd 71 7/1/08 16:48:47
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