30 under 30ish @ Victori + Mo

So happy to be included in Celine and Ed’s summer group show! I pasted an image of the painting I contributed below, as well as their press release.


30 Under 30ish
JULY 8 – JULY 31, 2016

VICTORI + MO is proud to present 30 Under 30ish, an exhibition of 30 works by 30 professional artists under 30ish years old, opening July 8 and on view through July 30.

A satirical commentary on the various and ostensibly influential “power” lists published by Forbes, Time, and the like, this aptly titled exhibition highlights the contradictory emotions that rest on the fringe of such rankings.  These lists hold a place in media history, and despite being founded on the premise of headline alliteration, landing a spot on any of them is like capturing a trophy of cultural and professional worthiness amongst peers.

We strive to be recognized as top performers by the media machine operators we’ve never met, however we also understand the somewhat dogmatic and nuanced publication of these lists.  Young professionals are striving to change the world today at an increasingly fast pace.  We’re all racing towards some top spot somewhere, list or no list.  So while we’re all pushing each other to higher success through healthy competition faster than rankings can, we can remove the power from the power-list makers and simply lend praise to the highly talented individuals in our contexts.

At the end of the day, these 30 artists are young professionals that VICTORI + MO admire, respect and would like to lend that praise to:

Conor Backman
Tyler Beard
Morgan Blair
Casey Bolding
Craig Callison
James Case-Leal
Jasmin Charles
Roman Cochet
Alexander Deschamps
Mark Dorf
Alex Ebstein
Sarah Faux
Dan Flanagan
Lizzie Gill
Edward Granger
Del Hardin Hoyle
Peter Hoffmeister
Will Hutnick
Kyle Kogut
Zach Meisner
Helena Parriott
Sean Phetsarath
Pawel Przewlocki
Peter Schenck
Emilie Selden
Matthew Speedy
Adrienne Elise Tarver
Virginia Wagner
Rachel Mica Weiss
Crys Yin

VICTORI+ MO is a collaboration of curators, dealers, collectors, and artists in Bushwick, Brooklyn dedicated to presenting and developing emerging and mid-career contemporary artists who engage with concepts and ideas relevant to life in an increasingly global community. By providing a space unmoored to particular doctrine, VICTORI+MO aims to transcend geographic and cultural boundaries and create dialogue, not only between the art world and viewing public, but across generations.

Gallery Hours
Thursday – Sunday, 1pm – 6pm
And by appointment

56 Bogart Street
Brooklyn, NY 11206

Gallery Contact

Hope Dreams @ Fresh Window Gallery


Hope Dreams

Curated by Alexander Deschamps

Dan Lucal, Joe Nanashe, Lillian Meisner, Alexander Deschamps

On View December 11, 2015 – January 10, 2016

Opening Reception December 11, 2015 7 – 9 PM

Fresh Window Gallery is pleased to present Hope Dreams, a group show curated by artist Alexander Deschamps. This show aims to speak to the position of the presidency itself, and to the celebrity and fascination that comes with it. It is an attempt to unravel and examine the american tendency to imbue in our leaders all of our hopes, dreams, fears, and even dysfunctions. It is an a-political view of our quintessential american politics, with a focus on the individual charisma of our elected officials, past and present, and how they affect the esteem, not the politics, of our people.

The title of the show is a riff on the classic 1994 longitudinal documentary Hoop Dreams by Steve James. In Hoop Dreams we follow two young Chicago boys as they try to build a basketball life, with the promise of playing in the NBA as the final reward. Ultimately, they both end their careers in college, with no professional hoops in their future. The documentary pivots on the question of deflated dreams. Can we rely on the all powerful force of the NBA to draw us out of despair and poverty? Can we rely on POTUS for the same? Who are the objects of american idolatry? And Why? Hope Dreams asks more questions than it answers.

Vandeavors Gallery


Dan Lucal

Expensive Art

June 13 – June 14, 2015

Northside Festival

Vandeavors Gallery is pleased to present new works and an installation by Dan Lucal. In the body of work presented in Expensive Art, we are given insight into Lucal’s views on scale, replication, and perspective, especially as they relate to commodity and the art market at large. The diorama-esque display, which is installed into the back of the van, serves not to diminish the art’s impact, but to dilate our perception. “I’m viewing the whole thing as a potential instagram photo,” says Lucal. If the end point is to produce a work that is contained in a documentary photograph, then what difference does size make? In fact, it is this tension between presentation, documentation and the real, that drove Lucal to start his expensive art series in the first place.

Find an interesting object. Through staging, and lighting, and the use of photography, reduce it to its most essential replicable form: the fine art print. Print it nice and big, put a slick frame on it, hang it in a gallery, and put a fat price tag on it. Expensive art.

It seems cheeky, but this formula is borne out of a very sincere place. Lucal’s obsession with beauty, and flair for rendering it upon strange and quotidian objects is undeniable. It is within this framework that the word expensive best operates. It is almost like a mantra for Lucal, who in pursuing the creation of art, is also acknowledging the absurdity of putting a price tag on a process of smoke and mirrors, but keeping his fingers crossed nonetheless.

What does price have to do with anything? Is it a construction that the viewer considers when assessing and appraising a work? As in, wow, this work is expensive, so it must be good. Or is price an assertion of value by the artist themselves? As in, this work is so good, I must make it expensive. Lucal aims to blow up both these ideas, and Expensive Art lands somewhere right in the middle of them. Surely it is a worthy pursuit, to obfuscate what it is that brings value to a work, through photo-replication, and display, which is then re-replicated, and re-displayed. The viewer is left wondering where the valuable nugget actually is, but knowing that they want it.

Vanning Around

When I started Vandeavors, I was mostly houching it. To houche, as I learned from the preparator of the Queens Museum at my first art handling gig, is to make it happen. If the screw doesn’t go in the wall, or the sculpture kinda wobbles, grab some tape, or a piece of gum (MacGyver style) and make it look good, houche it.

I bought my Astro off of Craigslist for straight cash. A lot could have gone wrong, but the stinky, Australian hippie who sold it to me seemed trustworthy and had only used the van to do a groovy cross country trip with his newlywed. He wanted to sell it quickly so he could get back to his life, wherever, playing hacky sack, or whatever.

I gave the thing a spit shine, bought some straps and moving blankets, and started moving art. I had years of experience art handling at that point, but very little in the delivery realm. I had lots of learning to do, but I was determined to make it happen.

I’ve learned a lot from vanning around for the past few years. I’ve learned the best ways to get across town, and how to avoid tolls while doing so. I know where the best parking is. I even know how much each type of parking ticket will cost. $115 for parking in the bus stop? Doesn’t that seem steep?

I have every preset on my radio dial memorized, so that I can flip between WNYC, WEPN and WFMU, which keep me informed of current events, local sports and rock and roll, respectively.

I’ve learned the art of the quick lunch. Sometimes I eat with the cabbies at Dil E Punjab on 9th avenue. They don’t talk to me, but I imagine that if they did we would commiserate about traffic and lack of lumbar support while we fork down our hot vegan fast food. Or often, I double park in front of Mamoun’s on Mcdougal Street. I can be in and out of that place with a spicy falafel sandwich in under two minutes. If you’re good, you can buy a hotdog and a water from a vendor while waiting at a red light. If you’re not so good, or if the vendor fumbles with the change, you’ll still get your hotdog and water, but you can expect a symphony of honking behind you.

The golden rule of navigating this city, I’ve learned, and this is true whether you’re walking, taking the subway, or driving, is to never unnecessarily waste someone else’s time. We’re all in a rush, please don’t pause for a photo.

This knowledge is not something I expected to acquire in my tenure in New York City. When I began college at 18, I didn’t think I would ever have the spaghetti bowl of highways out in Queens memorized. That being said, it’s a tremendous pleasure. The tri-state area has many secrets just waiting to be unlocked. So many basements, warehouses, studios, garages, mansions et cetera, all waiting for me to roll up and collect the goods.

Is a cargo van the key to the city? Sometimes it feels like it. I vanned in so many circles that if I were leaving a paint trail it would look like a big figure 8, stretched out over Brooklyn, Queens, and Manhattan.

These are all logistical considerations though, and I’m interested in how one’s reach can go deeper. Never mind getting Yves Klein blue pigment under your nails, or seeing Richard Prince cut a check for a thousand dollars on a whim. I’m talking about beginning to see the machine of the art world as a whole. Maybe I haven’t been going in circles, but in a spiral, approaching some center of understanding. Beginning to connect the dots in what at first seemed like a completely fractured set of jobs and tasks.

For example, I once delivered a piece to Phillips De Pury for a savvy collector. She knew the artist was about to be in the Whitney Biennale and it was sellin’ time. I forgot all about it, until about six months later, a different collector, whom I know through a completely different gallery, asked me to pick something up at Phillips for him. I collected the box, not thinking much of it, until I went to unwrap it and hang it in his office for him. Lo and behold, it was the same piece. This would be less weird if I were always at Phillips, but I’m not, and I found the coincidence striking.

Another time, I collected a work from an artist’s studio in West New York, I arrived early and he invited me in and chatted me up as he was putting the final touches on a painting. I watched him glue one last element onto the canvas, and then sign the thing. Very ceremonious. We wrapped it together, and then I delivered it to the gallery. Months later, I was hanging that same painting at the NADA fair in Miami. We were running late, and the early rush of collectors was already pouring in. An old couple sauntered over and fell in love with the painting as I was leveling it, peering over my shoulder. They purchased the painting on the spot and I gave them my card and told them I could deliver and hang it for them at their house in Aventura, if they would like. I did just that, and as I pulled out of the fancy South Florida development adjacent to the bay, I realized I witnessed the whole life of the painting. From signing in New Jersey to hanging in a home in Florida, I saw the alpha and the omega.

The Buddha spoke of Samsara, the pattern of birth, death, and karmic rebirth that repeats itself for eternity. I must have good attained good karma through this repetitious and loyal art delivery practice, for when my Chevy Astro kicked the bucket after two hundred thousand miles, I got a great deal on a Ford Econoline 150 shortly afterward. After a brief but important coronation ceremony, I was reborn and right back on the road.

Here’s to most auspicious futures: where the city and its environs, its art lovers and makers all make a little more sense, and I have to houche it a little less.