Andrew Kreps Gallery

I came to Andrew Kreps with great expectations as a fan of Darren Bader’s work but this show – or three shows, he says it is – left me sighing with a tinge of melancholy. Bader is a sculptor, I would say, and what I’ve liked about his work in the past was the feeling of an organic synthesis forging a deeply resonant and closeknit connections among disparate objects, while employing unexpected materials such as animals, living plants, dead vegetables among images and products and the other usual elements of sculpture today. It’s a really thrilling sculpture that electrified the space around it, making all the environment alive and me excited to be in it. Or it was. now, in this show at Andrew Kreps, the materials are atomized, disconnected, and the space of the gallery is just ordinary gallery white space that’s there to separate objects and set them apart from my life and life outside. The walls, floor, and air were there between things to isolate them from each other, and isolate me from them.
It was a show of photographs and objects – photos on the wall, objects on the floor. (Already a significant separation, a categorization keeping everything apart in its own conceptual cubbyhole.) For the most part the photographs don’t have a lot going on in them, or at least not anything that really caught my interest. They look like fashion shots or ads or stills from movies I wouldn’t want to watch in full. And they are framed in black on white walls, very isolatory. The objects, as I said, are all on the floor, some of them are plain like a can of beans whereas a limited number are big and crazy – a panel printed with a weird text about celebrities along with collaged images, which appeared to be a full-​fledged work of art in its own right, and a big plexiglass box with black rubber gloves reaching inward, perhaps a kinky torture chamber of some sort? These were interesting to look at but looking at them only reminded me of the plainness of all the rest of the objects, how little there was to link any of them together, just this analytical picking and choosing that just repeats what any gallery in Chelsea does instead of transforming it and making it a worthwhile space to be in.