…is the title of an extraordinary show I saw of Charles LeDray’s work at the Whitney last month. This show was easily one of the best ones I’ve seen since in New York. The show originated at Hopkins Institute for Contemporary Art in Boston and it was impeccably installed at Whitney, as it well should be, the nature of LeDray’s work demands it.
LeDray’s artwork takes commonplace, quotidian objects of short term value, often culturally fetishized then discarded, and through dramatic shifts in scale, they become comedic, whimsical, and of most import, useless. The banal objects once coveted, books, clothing, vessels, are brought back to high preciousness in LeDray’s meticulous miniature re creations. Upon viewing the show, it was difficult to keep in mind that LeDray hand makes everything, no outsourcing involved. I could feel nothing but overwhelming anxiety while taking in the exhibition; torn between rapt curiosity of little wunderkammers of artworks and a visceral quickening heart rate at trying to fathom all of the outright work in the galleries.
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