Last Week For Patrick Carroll’s Los Angeles Gallery Show, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:55pm
First things first, as I want you to see this if you are so inclined. My son’s gallery exhibition, “Reading,” runs through next Saturday the 25th of February.
850 S Broadway Suite 600, Los Angeles, CA 90014 (9th and Broadway)
Now’s the time.
We always like our kids’ stuff, true, but I was surprised (briefly stunned) by how much I liked the works in person. I’d loved them on Patrick’s Instagram account, sure, but walls are not phone screens. Those who spend lots of time in galleries should feel free to say now, “Duh.”
In person, these pieces break the consciousness’s usual “I got it,” to be replaced by, “Wait, stop, wait, meaning’s right over there,” giving you space to experience the crawl of new understanding. Does that make sense? Do you know that “pop,” like something breaking and being created at the same time, I’m talking about?
It always makes me want to sit down. So I did.
That little preppy green piece is my favorite. It says, “Exegesis,” and is ornamented in a glittery thread with what my personal lexicon of symbols insisted were palm trees, despite being told they were in fact arrows.
Exegesis means deconstruction, essentially what I’ve tried to do here for my own tight-lipped culture. Lily Pulitzer included. Not that this piece was made for me but that’s art, right? Things made for someone else are also for you.
This on the other hand–where’s that heart emoji when we need it?
I could not capture the way “Father” glows almost neon in its illuminated folds. Close to faerie. Neon faerie. Trust me.
It was lovely to have the artist himself, in situ, to discuss.
“Memory,” below, in its coloration, reminded me of mourning pictures in my father’s art collection, now at Berkeley. They are also fabric art; embroidered in past American centuries by young women from shared templates.
The knitting, the pattern and the wool/between-the-stitches of it, has an impact that doesn’t translate to a screen. Again, full permission for a chorus of “Duh”s from the cognoscenti.
The knitting is resolute.
You may remember my son began this project following the premature death of his father, when he was enrolled in the MFA program at UC Riverside, just as the pandemic broke out. One of the first pieces he ever made was this tank top, “Loss.”
The idea has evolved.
Rainbows. Pride. Floor. Thanks for your time and attention. Here’s to a life of all our senses. Have an amazing weekend.
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