I meant to devote some time in yesterday's post to praise-heaping for my friend Alex's solo show at J. Cacciola Gallery show in Chelsea. His work is chronically divine, a transcendent experience for anyone who is in love with the violent beauty of paint. Did that make sense? Probably not. But his paintings, they make so much sense. Here's a peek:
|These paintings by Alex Kanevsky.|
|This painting by David Graeme Baker; it looked absolutely lovely in person, both wispy and wistful in the best ways possible.|
Today I am going to break from the art world temporarily to engage in crass, crappy, corrosively capitalistic commerce: it's SoHo or bust, baby. More soon.