An open letter to Harrison Keys
This was going to be a juicy feast of tasty art goodness, I just knew it. I even skipped dinner. And then you go and leave me feeling empty.
Harrison Keys...shit, man. Why you gotta play with my heart like this? I went to the opening for your show Pressure Luck at Get This! Gallery last Saturday, all atwitter with anticipation—I’ve much enjoyed most of what I’ve seen you do in the past, and I was hungry for more. This was going to be a juicy feast of tasty art goodness, I just knew it. I even skipped dinner. And then you go and leave me feeling empty.
- so have more interesting things.
Here’s the thing: your show is not bad. The succinct pieces gave the room an easy rhythm—it felt good to be in the gallery, surrounded by your work. It wasn’t until I started having my little tête-à-tête with each piece that I realized I was surrounded by deceptively-seasoned tofu art; it looks like a burger, but it ain’t. Once you get up close, you realize there’s no meat at all. This, Mr. Keys, made me very sad. I’ll explain.