Robert Bingamanさんのインスタグラム写真 - (Robert BingamanInstagram)「I interrupt my sabbatical from all media to invite you to see this show, masked and alone, at some point during the next seven days—before it closes. Some words of a close friend: Rob’s paintings. Much will be made of the subject matter, the fires. That’s fine. It’s hard not to feel the heat emanating from those canvases, the same heat curdling the headlines. But these paintings are evocative of the times beyond the contents. The sight of fires and damage is not just depicted in the paintings, it’s a component of the technique. On first glance the pool is swiped with painterly’ “noise,” a la Richter, but the impression it leaves on the viewer is that of a scar. For someone who has seen Rob paint these scenes for nearly a decade, it’s jarring, like seeing an old friend or family member emerge from a health crisis with a from-this-point-on distinguishing scar. It’s how they look now. How we all look in 2020, and certainly after. So hard to believe we’re still in it, but not in the small room where Rob’s paintings are displayed. It’s the most intimate public space I’ve been in in months. If Rob’s pieces have been critiqued as a reflection of privilege, a claim that may or may not have merit or be immaterial, he also shows that these objects are not immune to erosion, decay, or even complete destruction. Rob’s paintings have always existed in their own plane, so it’s striking to see them altered, to see that this plane is also subject to the same rules of physics as our real-world landmarks. Not because it’s such a foreign experience, but because it’s so recognizable. We are all scarred by this year, we recognize our own crises and traumas in these pigments. The artist depicts but does not judge, our damage is safely contained within the contemplation of each scene, which in other circumstances or conditions might be beautiful. But that is not the timeline we were given. So here we are, huddled apart for warmth, scared and shaken but also beginning to suspect that we can survive/"overlive" the gray months as long as fireworks of color like these adorn the walls of the gallery, and even in our darkest moments, continue to exist and shine and even thrive. - LW」11月18日 0時15分