A group show with Bas Jan Ader, Marie Matusz, Will Sheldon and a book from Elad Lassry and Angie Keefer In our new space 'fiancé', curated by Cassidy Toner
18 Oct – 25 Jan 2020

View Images

Download press release

You don’t remember me, but I remember you
‘twas not so long ago, you broke my heart in two
Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart, caused by you, you

I croon along to Little Anthony & The Imperials in the Post-Emo. Soon I dissolve
into a fit of uncontrollable laughter brought on by the serene pleasure of a moth
landing on my cheek. The moths always arrive as the lacrimal lakes of my eyes
overflow. They chase the meandering rivers carving their way down my profile.
If it weren’t for them in the winter the teary icicles could form the stubble of 5
o’clock shadow.

“I’ve had to stop going to the nearest grocery store that seems to play Shania
Twain’s “Forever and For Always” whenever I’m there. It’s hard to shop for frozen
entrees through cold-air blasted tears.”

I’ve tried to trick the moths into visiting when the Prozac fortifies the leaks in my
tear ducts. For sometime I forced my eyes close to all the onions I chopped. I
wanted to be sure every irritant they contained had battered my eyes bloodshot.
Even nearly drowning in a flood of tears failed to attract the moths. I think they
like ‘the real thing.’

“Ovid also believed that crying was beneficial for the crier, as evidenced by his
statement that “It is some relief to weep; grief is satisfied and carried off by
tears.” 3

The only other idea to lure them out of my sweaters and cereal boxes had been
ruled out in my youth. I recalled the countless attempts it took each morning
to get a single drop of Visine in my eyes before class. I realized my face was
drenched with fraudulent tears. Not a single moth ever appeared. Would eyedrops
be the equivalent to McDonald’s for them? Even in the backseat of my
friend’s car that had surely developed a complex biosphere; enough to host a
moth or at least develop a lacrimal thirsting animal. Maybe all of those organisms
just evolved to subsist on the puddles of ancient Mountain Dew.

I imagine the moths salivating as they watch Bas Jan Ader unapologetically
weep in I’m too sad to tell you. Soon, they notice the bundle of eyes peeping
through Will Sheldon’s drawings. The smorgasbord of stylized tears running
down the page. Later they come to Marie Matusz’s vitrines housing an assortment
of lachrymatory bottles. Each filled with tears or a silvery substance, possibly
‘robot tears.’ Finally, they flip through Elad Lassry’s book, On Onions and
consider trying onion tears for a change.

I guess this show is really just for moths.

Bas Jan Ader was born in 1942 in Winschoten, Netherlands. He was last seen
in 1975 when he took off in what would have been the smallest sailboat ever to
cross the Atlantic. The journey was to be the second part of a triptych called In
Search of the Miraculous.

Marie Matusz (born 1994) in Toulouse (FR.) She presently lives and works in
Basel. In 2016 she received her Bachelor of Fine Arts from HEAD Genève and in
2018 graduated with a Master of Fine Arts from Institut Kunst (Basel.) Currently
her work is the subject of a solo exhibition at Atelier Amden (Amden,) and included
in the group show Retour à Rome at Instituto Svizzero (Rome.)

Will Sheldon lives and works in New York. He received a BFA from the School of
Visual Arts in 2013. His work was previously the subject of a solo ex3hibition at
Cleopatra’s, Brooklyn (2017), and he is currently included in the group show ‘The
Untamed’ at Karma International (Zürich).

Elad Lassry (Israeli, born 1977) studied film at the California Institute of the Arts
then earned an MFA from the University of Southern California. His work has
been included in numerous gallery and museum exhibitions. On Onions is Elad
Lassry’s first artist book.