542 West 24th St.
SUMMER SURVEY
June 17-July 15
Artists:
Anne Eastman
Virginia Martinsen
Noam Rappaport
Miguel Angelo Rocha
Eric Sall
Peter Sutherland
Vince Rourke
On an empty stomach with flop sweats from a ferocious hangover I stood outside of Hasted Hunt Kraeutler Gallery smoking a fag and waited to deliver myself inside. As I peered out across 24th street to the crowd of young hipsterlings crouched down along the sidewalk next to half empty bottles of Budweiser I figured what the hell and abandoned the high culture of Hasted Hunt for the Bohemian derelict vibe of ATM gallery never to return. I always confuse this ATM Gallery with The one in Berlin, which appears after much research to be entirely unrelated to its younger American counterpart. Inside Owner and Director Bill Brady has put together what he calls a summer survey. I supposed if I have any real beef with this show it is that a summer survey is all that it is. Although I enjoyed allot of the work, in particular the luscious fat strokes of Guston-esque oil paintings by Eric Sall and the geometric mappings by unknown newbie Vince Rourke there appeared to be a serious lack of thematic cohesion. I couldn’t even find a proper press release in the gallery or online. Without being to critical of a Chelsea gallery that regularly gives emerging artists their first exhibition opportunities, my perception of the gallery as whole would improve vastly if they were to hire a half genius curator who can take the brilliant business sense of Mr. Bradey, the true talent of his artist stable and bring it all together for a greater purpose than “Summer Survey”
Now having said all of that you may be surprised to find that this show is one of the best on the block and comes highly recommended from yours truly. Lets call this review tough love for ATM Gallery.
Recommendation level – HIGH
Refreshments:
Budweiser in a bottle
If I’ve said it once if said it a thousand times - There are so many reasons to hate this beer. Even though it has a cool label, this beer insults my intelligence. It has practically no head and a chemical skunk nose from which I cannot detect the presence of a single necessary ingredient used in the production of beer. Traditional Budweiser appeals to the lowest common palate in every possible way. Perhaps that’s its charm. So when they are giving icy cold bottles away for free from an ice filled old school garbage can and your trapped in a gallery hot box of bodies on a sweltering summer eve, somehow Budweiser seems palatable. When your thirsty enough to drink anything and all they have to offer you is a cold Bud, “The King of Beers" becomes allot more attractive. In fact, after two or three servings you’ll forget why you hated the stuff so much in the first place. Long live the king.
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