Sebastian Black
November 20–December 8, 2012

21 Downing Street
New York, NY 10014

A few days ago I went to Chase Bank to get some deposit slips. The cubbyholes of the desks in which I usually found them were gone. They’d been absorbed, sealed like unused piercings beneath slick formica flesh. I was informed that the bank had “Gone Paperless!”
The so called dovetailing of modern art and advertising was in some sense always already the whole dove. With hindsight’s hawk eyed vision this fact seems obvious enough. We are told that the issue is for the birds; that the work on paper is paperwork, and vice versa, but we also know that the coop has always had its lines of flight…

Restated in less aviary terms: There was a time when heaps of printed pages piled up along the periphery of paintings. They arranged themselves into a large and complex mechanism which in turn organized the meaning of the field of production over which it spread its gaze. As this origami apparatus grew increasingly complicated, the articulations which it described and engendered grew increasingly microscopic.

It would seem we have now reached painting in its quantum stage, where unity and difference reveal themselves to be the dual nature of one particle. The screen, as the false equivalence between surface and content, presents itself as the fait accompli of this progression.
But that is bogus. We know that what appears continual is really comprised of a rapid flickering, and there are always little gaps to slip a bit of paper through. That said, here is a show, that is a lot like an earlier show, only thinner.

–Sebastian Black