Fugitive Pigments: The Secret History and Attempted Abandon

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There are not many books I’ve read twice, but I finished The Secret History for the second time last week, after being prompted by Alissa Bennett’s show of the same name at Gladstone 64. Featuring a few artists I already adored (Karyn Lyons, Shigeo Otake), I felt I could not look at the show without returning to the story I had devoured in my early twenties. Like so many things we come back to, it had changed (or rather I had) enough to get an entirely different interpretation this time around. The novel is a psychological thriller about a group of college students and their descent into murder in an attempt to get closer to the ancient Greek rituals they study. The themes are caught up in beauty, anemoia, social dynamics and egotistical abandon. Reading it again, I understood Bennett’s obsession. “Ah yes” was my general feeling. Separate from the Dionysian glee of ego loss for the purpose of peer-inclusion that I read in my earlier years, this time I saw a shedding of overall society. 

 Conceptually, the plot seems to intersect with what I hope will become my thesis this fall- the human need for abandon, or ‘un-domestication'. It’s apropos to talk philosophy of the ego in an art context, when so much historical work is defined by attempts to reach deeper levels of consciousness. But I think the concept has become more fascinating for how pervasive it is in contemporary times. Roller coasters, psychedelics, sex, addictions, rock climbing, chocolate. In each other these, there is a range of social acceptance (/health implications), but to me they all seem concentrated on the same end goal of losing ones self, or more accurately perhaps, momentarily escaping society’s constraints. 

In the exhibit, Matt Hilvers shows a cable knit sweater set in a shadowbox, so perfect to the thematic New England collegiate atmosphere, albeit drenched in his own blood. It would be too on-the-nose to the plot if it were not a product of its own true storyline. Apparently the artist cut off parts of his own fingers during a momentary psychotic break during an isolated time in London grad school. Isolation, beauty, violence, even a subtle nod to class structure -it’s a perfect reference, as if a prop straight from the novel. 

One aspect of group shows I hadn’t understood before I started my own work, was the haphazard nature by which some themes are curated. I hold no grudges against an amalgamation of concepts (so much is work is objective anyway, the thematic interpretation can be as well). But I was thrilled by the cohesion here - some of the artists even reference the novel in the title. And most intriguing of all, the show itself reflects the work like an infinite reflection of facing mirrors. The Ancient Greek references (sprinkled with the contemporary) and hidden stories behind the work set the group of artists apart as its own classics clique, communicating on a different level with each other and with history, slightly cultish, endlessly interesting and very beautiful (however that’s defined). 

Updates

• After setting up a temporary studio for the last two months in Jackson WY, I will be returning to my NYC studio this week. My final year of the MFA at NYAA begins at the end of the month

• I’m excited to be part of a group show at Hill House in LA September 8th

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