Paul Thek

This is the sort of historical gallery show that makes you think galleries are not serious and can never be because they are willing to throw together a selection of lesser works by a great artist, making you wonder if that artist is really worth anything at all and that’s a really sad outcome for an artist i sort of have undying love for due to deep knowledge in spite of all his mystery (and misanthropy). If i were putting together a show of the newspaper paintings i would put so many on the walls, like all over, so you felt how provisional they were, really just activities that made being alive possible and some were really good and there’s only one in the whole show that’s good and wouldnt it be cool if it was jumbled so completely with the rest of the bad ones so you could see how hard it is to make good art and how nice it was not to pretend otherwise. Also idk throw some panza pictures on the wall or play the bad yet charming italian rock band he joined (also so he wouldnt kill himself)—both things that would be incredibly cringe yet sincere and i really just want more sincerity and more things that are like life is really hard and sometimes you just need to go to the beach and make dumb paintings with bright colors and cherries because going to openings in new York is such a despairing and deadening experience. Kind of like how last night Liza and I were like let’s go to ibiza over and over on the dance floor, pronouncing it lisp like, which was a joke but also a good idea because sometimes you just need to get away from half measure bad and arrive somewhere so alienating you get to finally be free of the alienation from yourself