Chelsea, New York
Group Exhibition
It's Complicated to Be Sincere
Polina Berlin GalleryHanae Moreno-Niimi Sof'ya Shpurova Marika Thunder Polina Berlin Gallery presents It's Complicated to Be Sincere, a three-person exhibition of recent painting with accompanying words by Dana DeGiulio. Second Inaugural Like her constant need of being born peeling back the scalp like there's something else to sing oneself out of oneself and verify, elaborate, choke on it, the sweetness frosting, warmer than expected, still purring, your palms are sticky though you ate hours ago. Right in the throat and on the palms rug burn, DayQuil, grandmother's black hole, the black sun and the energy. It's not a leaf the robot, it's not a robot the compass, sharp point it spins around to make a perfect circle. You don't come twice, so tangled a mess in the nest so easy so and ironic if you don't know what distance is. I don't get shit, I'm old, belligerent, unforgivable you still alive you're an empty cigarette filter in stubby fingers, hollow, wickless, all flame fist-sized in the sun and then nothing; butt of palm. Eat so much poison to inoculate against the poison if you do it at home you're being homeopathic about it, radioactive, radiant with bored love quiver full of arrows of waiting for it to dry, guys in hazmat suits being careful putting their hands back to die. You simply cannot throw your arms open the room is too small. To accept war is in the end the same as making it, a sterile act sterilized by big brute force to ceaseless clicking, the interface another banquet scene so we hear them together before they are pulled apart. The act braces to enter the social, its red and forgetting cool and flake away to begin the accounting; in the hierarchy of scale the servants have small wings. A pamphlet about aliveness, laminated stacks of them with typos lit on fire to keep warm and running still when the surface is the only place right and left for this once coming