Elizabeth Peyton's show opened at the New Museum this week. Roberta Smith says in today's New York Times, "The best collapse the distances between realist painting, modernist abstraction, personal snapshot and magazine, and are accessible, devotional and visually alive. Their gem-rich colors are applied with brazen abandon, like miniature action paintings."
I've obviously been looking at Chinese art too long, since these small scale, awkward paintings barely register with me and I find the references to rock stars and art stars far too insular. Not that anyone cares what I think, but the world feels like a far bigger place than conveyed by these works. Still, I know they sell for millions and Peter Schjeldahl once described Peyton as the "moral center" of the Whitney Biennial. I don't get it. Do you?
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