In Response to the Art of Mark Bradford

Los Moscos by Mark Bradford

Los Moscos by Mark Bradford

Your collages are moving, abstract, magnetic, captivating.
Paintings? Okay, I’ll call them paintings, if you insist. Your “paintings”
→→are powerful, elegant, grunge.
“Los Moscos,” like a map enlightens; but a map of what? Of my
→→conscience?
A map to navigate the nameless roads and filthy alleys of some
→→deserted city, long forgotten?
“Kryptonite,” intriguing mix of colors and shapes arranged like my
→→brain on cheap gin.
Scattered, rattling around inside my skull. Yes, your “paintings” are art,
→→very fine art.
That installation you built with fence signs, mirror wall, hanging colored
→→lights, juxtaposed videos at the end;
That is not art. It is too plain spoken, too direct to be art.
It is a powerful sociopolitical statement, a ghetto
→→narrative, yes, but it lacks the aesthetic aura of art.
Your “paintings” are art, but that installation is not art.
That video you shot clad in antebellum skirt, shooting hoops;
→→Art? What were you drinking?
That is not art. It is not a sociopolitical statement.
It is just a silly video.
Don’t buy into the notion that everything an artist touches is
→→art; It is not.
Your “paintings” are art, very fine art.

by Thomas Wigington

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