↳ Exhibitions

Horse & Pony at Adjunct Positions

August 19, 2022

Artists: Ebb Bayley, Stephanie Barber, Keturah Cummings, TJ Cuthand, Lucinda Dayhew, Adrienne DeVine, Dakota Gearhart, Julia Haft-Candell, kg, April Lin, Carol Anne McChrystal, Jesse McLean, Dietrich Meyer, Alice Morey, Mindy Rose Schwartz, Fern Silva, Tiffany Smith, Hironaka & Suib

Exhibition title: Bad Budz

Presented by: Horse & Pony

Venue: Adjunct Positions, Los Angeles, US

Date: July 8 – 23, 2022

Photography: all images copyright and courtesy of the artists, Horse & Pony and Adjunct Positions

When I proposed this show title to Rocco, he thought I meant Bator Budz, which seemed to me to be more of a gooner show than the one we have here. I thought it might lead to false expectations – there aren’t any circle jerks or erections, at least not at the time of this writing, it’s not all that gay, it’s the right title, but this isn’t that show. Or maybe it is, after all.

One way of thinking about the enjoyment of a flower is that we are intruding. Rounding a corner in a darkroom, opening a door at a party, finding a few people engaged in an activity that you weren’t invited to. You would likely walk away, yes? Continue to another passage, or apologetically back out while closing the door in front of you. Or would you instead just stand there and stare, enjoying the aesthetic intensity of the folds, tendrils, shoots, flaps, variegations, and protrusions in front of you. Walk further in, bury your face in it, marvel at how delicate, how feral, it is.

An objection to this might be: they want you, or some other animal, to watch, actually. You are the missing third without which their activity would be, lol, fruitless. Claiming that our appreciation and use of them is pointless and of no function, is just a denial of the fact that when we are looking at their buds, we are just animals, too. Whatever labors of sublimation we undertake to etherealize our enjoyment of them, doesn’t matter. They made of themselves a trap for us, whether we call it that or not. In other cases, the bait they’ve set out is meant for someone other than us, someone who we very well may have scared away with our greedy olfactions. I’m skeptical of a dismissive materialism that would wave away the enchantment of these forms by describing them as functional, reducing them to the strategic shapes of a selfish gene. As though the reproductive aims of a piece of matter deflate its aesthetic properties; as though the beauty of a plump stamen or fleshy petal evacuates its healing properties.

Walking through a warehouse full of cut stems, their odor wafting through the hallways and mixing with the flood of urine in the stairwell we’ve just come through, and part way through writing this text, it’s hard not to feel like I’m in a slaughterhouse run by a particularly greedy genital fetishist. Bundles of same-species sexual organs bound together and plunged in buckets of increasingly fetid water. I do wonder at what moment it becomes hopeless: if a pollinator (could I be one?) comes through here and diligently performs its role, bringing pollen from one flower to another, on the same or a different branch depending on the needs of the particular species, can the pollination be called successful? At what point in this does sexual reproduction become form, detached from any possible generation of new life? Maybe it’s my own proclivities, but I wish they could have this in their real lives. All of this luscious bud flesh, pressed together, ambient temperature and humidity precisely adjusted to keep them plump, youthful, and fertile looking for as long as possible. Quite literally nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, but to be there together, touching. Soon they’ll be separated from each other, brought somewhere less hospitable, left to whither for us. To brighten a room and be forgotten, or die for us so we can emotionally inoculate ourselves against imagining the ramifications our way of life will have on ourselves or each other, on whichever buds would otherwise have burst forth.

-carrick bell, Los Angeles, July 2022

Bad Budz, 2022, exhibition view, Horse & Pony at Adjunct Positions, Los Angeles

kg, I WANT, 2022, Lazy Daisies crocheted just like however they get made, okay and wasting their lives

Carol Anne McChrystal, Walang buwan (after rosal), 2022, Handwoven blue polypropylene tarp, reflective mylar emergency blanket, dichroic film, plastic netting and pandan leaf with brass grommets, planter made from Mt. Pinatubo volcanic ash, pandan plant, soil, red and orange plastic bags, bungee hooks

Adrienne DeVine, Dama for Jagadish and the Secret Life of Plants, 2022, Steel and aluminum wire, raffia, cowrie shells, rustoleum paint, shellac, plant matter

kg, DIRE STRAIGHTS, 2022, Two boobs competing in the wind off wood drifting home tied to old lines holding on to this slice of neck one needle to help it all hold above an extending branch that basically grows itself really weighed down by your aging gasp and a convenient constant pinch

kg, COUNT DOWN TO HAPPINESS, 2022, Sometimes you have to dig a hole and put your special thing in that hole and set it all on fire and wonder who all’s been crawling around on the floor like me?

Julia Haft-Candell, Mood Chart: Sage, Slate, 2019, Ceramic

Ebb Bayley, Our Footprints Glow in the Field, 2022, Acrylic on canvas, grommets

kg, I WANT, 2022, Lazy Daisies crocheted just like however they get made, okay and wasting their lives

Keturah Cummings, Venus Correspondence (for Edwina)

Evening Star, Hibiscus and hollyhock flowers, rice paste, vinegar on cotton paper, 2022, 70 x 48 cm

Morning Star, Hibiscus and marshmallow flowers, rice paste, vinegar on cotton paper, 70 x 48 cm, 2022

kg, I WANT, 2022, Lazy Daisies crocheted just like however they get made, okay and wasting their lives

Bad Budz, 2022, exhibition view, Horse & Pony at Adjunct Positions, Los Angeles

Alice Morey, I count in broken shells #1 Hand dyed silk (madder root, indigo, nettle, greater celandine, avocado), glazed ceramic pieces, steel, chains, sprayed aluminium, wire, wire clamps, 2022

Alice Morey, I count in broken shells #2, Hand dyed silk (madder root, indigo, nettles, greater celandine, avocado), glazed ceramic pieces, steel chain, sprayed aluminium, wire, wire clamps, dried poppy buds, 2022

Dietrich Meyer, Crossing paths with the moon at the golden hour, Glazed ceramics, dried eucalyptus, dried king protea flower, dried statice tatarica, string, Dimensions variable, 2022

Mindy Rose Schwartz, Mercury Sigil for Growth and Prosperity, Dutchman’s Pipe vines, linen thread, cord, feathers, mirrors, epoxy putty, Aqua resin, Astrological Election, Talismanic ceremony, 2022