David Shaw
at caren golden
October 17 - November 16, 1996
David Shaw's finely honed sculptures and
photo objects always leave you scratching
your head. The visual information he offers
is insistent and seems logical, but
ultimately, it's logic from another planet.
All of the works in this show, his second
at Caren Golden, appear to be part of a
narrative. And the intimate space of the
gallery ensures a personal involvement. An
Adirondack chair and a picnic table bench,
neatly covered in silvery holographic
laminate, transport the gallery to an
outdoor setting. A standing figure near the
corner is removing a bright orange
sweatshirt. Are we about to be mugged? It's
only a mannequin, you say. But what of the
newly hatched bird that fell from its nest?
It struggles in a vat of milky white resin.
And what are those pictures of glowing
lights--ads for Absolute Vodka, a la
Houdini--doing on the wall? This uncanny
and unforgettable work marks a place
between presence and absence, and between
reality and the unreal. One of the most
intense installations I have ever seen, the
work as a whole has a kind of laid back
feeling of menace, something nonchalantly
horrific, like certain scenes from the
movie Fargo.
