OFFSIGHT

Jul 19–Aug 12, 2022
55 Delancey St, New York

Something is always lost in representation. To relay a story, regardless of language—verbal, visual, and otherwise— contending with a certain degree of loss is inevitable. To that end, looking, particularly active looking, might be akin to mourning. The artists in OffSight fill this space of loss with acts of inventive, alchemical storytelling. What is lost in their works is not always immediately evident; some conditions are best kept between an artist and their process. What is unmistakable, however, is how each succeeds at making me miss something I didn’t know I needed. It’s in this moment that sight becomes a ritualistic and sacred temporal act.

The longing I’m suggesting here is the good kind of longing. The redemptive kind. The kind of longing that helps us heal from the ruptures of stepping outside of our bodies. Instead of promising branded truths, these artists propose a quality of presence that rewards active looking and (re)discovery. They heighten our awareness of the air that fills the space between the limits of our sight and the surfaces of their subjects. In this air my breathing slows and deepens as I look more intently at their work: I look more closely at the citations of architecture, nomadic instruments, and suggestions of ruin in the sci-fi sculptures of Abigail Lucien. In Cosmo Whyte’s drawing I face a dense and weighted apparition. Ornamented, adorned, and at the same time obscured, the figure (or is it two?) seems to shape-shift before our eyes. In Widline Cadet’s intimate pictures, bodies become enmeshed with each other and with the landscape, as in this work, in which they disappear altogether. In doing so, Cadet’s characters expand themselves beyond the limitations of any singular subjectivity. Likewise, as objects, Leslie Smith III’s modular paintings fragment and compartmentalize the sometimes planar expectations of painting, yielding slices of color, shape, and form in ways that disobey the bounds of the picture.