Tommy Camerno



Curated by Antoine Schafroth
On until 28 January 2024

Is there a limit to the number of fads a single practice can channel? In this bijou, four-piece show, Camerno packs building site machismo, camp Technicolor nostalgia, generational warfare, and a dollop of old queer. 

Such indecision could be dismissed as youthful enthusiasm, but these inconsistencies are premeditated. Ornamental steel shapes hung from a monumental totem revel in laser-cut precision. They’re so far oblivious to the speckles of rust that will one day consume them. A ‘70s pin-up who appears on one canvas is till today unmoved by the decades which separate her from glory.

But the procession of time marked out in another painting is unstoppable. What’s left of the show are stage props that feed adolescent imaginations with false memories of the long-finished party. But even if Camerno’s complaints against the past were legitimate, his bet on the lasting value of his stock illustration tropes makes for poor politics.

notes and notices are short and curt exhibition reviews. Read more:

Yuki Nakayama, After the Rain at A.I. Gallery ★☆☆☆☆

Yuki Nakayama

After the Rain


Can an installation be too site-specific?

Max Boyla, Crying like a fire in the sun at Workplace ★★☆☆☆

Max Boyla

Crying like a fire in the sun


Rothko’s abstractions are said to have induced tears in viewers overwhelmed by abstraction. Staring at the sun here, however, barely causes blindness.

Ksenia Pedan, Revision at Cell Project Space ★★★★☆

Ksenia Pedan



Pedan’s paintings would rather be anything but.

Material Rites at Gathering ★★★☆☆

Fritsch, Genzken, Oldenburg, Shani, Sherman, Smithson, Thek

Material Rites


The instincts are right, but too much makes sense to make sense together.

Sula Bermúdez-Silverman, Bad Luck Rock at Josh Lilley ★★☆☆☆

Sula Bermúdez-Silverman

Bad Luck Rock


This is a poor man’s version of history or a philistine collector’s absolution.

Pablo Bronstein, Cakehole at Herald Str ★★★☆☆

Pablo Bronstein



Bronstein falls into the late evening stupor of the cheese trolley, the oyster tray, and… the Mars bar.