Can a painting be funny? Yes, but there aren’t many: the Rothko Chapel comes to mind. And now, perhaps, the works of Fig, Harmon, and Wehberg.
My name is Taird Kerner and despite having received individual restraining orders from each of the artists in this show, I am honored to write the press release for this upcoming exhibit at Next To Nothing. (Granted it was only as part of a settlement with Dan Fig after he “accidentally” stapled me to one of his canvases — if only he were as good a LIAR as he is a painter.)
When I was told there was a “vein of humor” running through the show, I got really excited, because I’m $89k in debt from improv classes and thus an expert on comedy even though I hate laughing.
Some of the works in this show are like if Van Gogh kept painting after he shot himself, like with the bullet still in his head. They’re like fever dreams and unholy visions caused by ingesting hallucinogenic Nickelodeon slime.
Having respectfully stalked everyone in this show, I can confidently say that if I enjoyed laughing, I’d laugh at these artists all the time. I imagine I’d sometimes laugh in that German way where you’re laughing at someone’s pain, I think the word is sociopath. Other times I’d laugh in that New Yorker way, where you don’t actually make any noise but just smile a little.
October is the month when the veil between our world and the world of the dead is at its thinnest. That has nothing to do with this exhibition, I just think it’s cool.
But I guess if I really had to figure out some connection to the works in this show, I’d say the line between the comical and the serious, the amusing and the depressing, and the beautiful and the ugly, is also at its thinnest. Wow, that analogy was so good I literally just entered a fugue state for 3 days.
Now that I’m fully alive agin, let me just conclude by saying it’s been a pleasure talking at you, now please follow me on LinkedIn at @TairdKernerOfficialArtAccount, it’s the only social media platform I haven’t been banned from yet.
- Taird Kerner
Written by Steven Markow