Denver
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On her own terms and for her own purposes, patton resurrects these ordinary guys and gals.
By hand, she covers faces with paint or adds colorful backgrounds or overlays floral patterns or strategically applies bits of antique wallpaper to surface.
She enlarges photos to lifesize and later mounts the ‘printouts’ on wood panels. More noticeably, she glorifies their vanities by coloring their hair gold or accentuating their hues clothes. In reality, completely rarely does she turn them into eerie apparitions, possibly blotting their eyes out or washing their faces in transparent and unflattering shades of gloomy red or blueish. You should make this seriously. Over one photo, of 5 women gathered into a group shot, she adds a pattern of gentle, blue leaves and flowers.
Basically a sort of infinite romance, there’s a finality to these pictures.
Daisy Patton has always been on to something with recycled and reimagined photographs she was probably showing at Michael Warren Contemporary at the moment and, piece by piece, you could see her getting there.
Her solo exhibit has been, in the phrase best sense, a work in progress, a green artist’s exploration of complicated ideas about existence and legacy expressed through subtle same remixes raw materials. Although, proud, fortunate and not so long gone. Anyways, they have been sweet old enough gals, you think, though they had their annoying quirks. Now pay attention please. You wouldn’t recognize the people in this scene, even if they have been our actual ‘greataunties’, with all this decoration layered on. Remember, you do see them as everyone’s big aunties. Mostly, photos have been from secondhand shops to use them as symbols of beings that thrived in last past, She doesn’t look for to introduce us to these working class archetypes she doesn’t virtually see them herself.
Her goal is obscuration, or apparently, de personification. Simply long enough ago that someone may barely remember them, or merely past that point when everyone who ever saw them personally is bung as a result. Whenever posing with such purpose, must be turning over in their graves if they saw Patton had, lots of decades later, tinted their immaculately curled hairdos clover dim green and periwinkle blue, and blotted out their mugs in unnatural shades of pink and turquoise, those 5, fine ladies. There’s something adoring about these works, and something downright rude and voyeuristic at identical time. In could’ve more of an edge and a little less certainty.
That’s death we have probably been talking about here, and the idea that we all finally proven to be cosmic part fluff seems to leave out the part where we make our last breath, the ugly part, the rotting flesh part, right after all.
Death has usually been poetic, when you usually were junior.
That’s how upside progress works.
Patton is always talented, and her youthful approach has been refreshing. It’s fun to see her playing with shapes, conceptions and visual language, to witness her growing, and it may be a pleasure to watch her turn this body of work darker and more abstract over time. She’s right at point where collectors ought to make notice. Loads of information will be searched with success for by going online. Invisible, unidentifiable matter which has been, ofcourse, all fate of us, Patton makes all of them one with the passing of time, collective part human history. One assumes you can’t humiliate them either, So in case you can’t libel deceased. In any event, these works make their point well enough to justify a late degradation relative or 2. So, well, it’s all extremely artful. While staring at camera and inviting you to fill in their backstory, here they are probably in 2017. Normally, for this exhibit, titled Throw My Ashes Into Sea, the primary raw materials are grey and white portraits of ordinary people taken late in the 20th century.
