They came upon her in the streets - She was watching, with multiple view points, or had she just seen them around town a few times? or was She bigger than the physical body? It would seem to be indicated. The TVs weren't as high-tech as they could have been: meaning not that they should have been, just that they bespoke of other ghosts, materially present TVs clunking around, just as those ghosts were materially present, smoking cigarettes and going to the ATM: no one in the short looped image cycles really paid the ghosts much mind. Even the idea of of ghosts is a bit olde timey to the point of perhaps being needed to be called string theory or something. Perhaps a reason why CHLOE SMOLARSKI had the wire for her projectors (in another part of the room that had been dominated by the ghosts and their sounds) up on the wall. It was in curves and I thought it might light up occasionally or be touch sensitive: How does it mean ghosts that in an art gallery anything is possible: that given all our, the general populace or at least the media reportage on same, derision of the arts, we still walk into a world where the wire might well be possessed of capabilities. And then I finally do trace it to the projector, but current can flow both ways here, or more than both. Art is still relevant in America. Though it's true it may be a ghost, that speaks not to its power (to act, etc.)
Downstairs it was someone else's art, words in different shapes, alot of which would have been called from the street, or graffiti a while ago, but are probably a bit too much fitting snuggly into the lingo of graphic design. The words were kind of interesting though, though in retrospect they might require you be a little interested in the irony of DEEP being there in a gallery and was it really, though, again, as Andy would say, is there like any real need to get down on what was fun eye candy at the time, in another room this same woman, NANCY DWYER, had not standard sculptures and paintings but more of the TVs (this time the flat screeners) and junk formed into stuff mode that is also, like the upstairs thing, known as installation art. The words were always there with Nancy Dwyer, and with me too. Didn't see them till I took off my glasses. Rachel could see them by squinting, but me . . . it said "entitled to what" and then was made out of what we are entitled to here in the US, on a solid base of plastic plates were novels naked dolls, things indicating our co-opted rebel status (our being our artists), things still of our all to recently past childhood. It was about 1000 or more plates, each with something on it, stuck to the wall, with the blank parts of the wall forming the aforementioned words. I'll just say this by way of criticism, the graphic design words, in Dwyer's first room, those painted with, you know, paint, and sculpted out of clay and wood (ie classic art stuffs) were mostly like looking at a sketch of what was possible in the full-blown other room. That there critique though already mostly seems like a ghost ready to haunt me.