selective report of details of a largely fabricated memory of the porous history of sporadic reflection and observation efforts with no urgency
7 January – 4 March, 2023
The price is high when you keep the score – that’s some fucking words to a Quiet Riot song, the line popped into my head the other morning on the bus on Myrtle Ave. It struck me as typical combination of 2 clichés into a pseudo novel relational setup of used up ideas which in this case created a notion with such high generative power and low precision that it’s barely even a proposition. It’s the stuff of rock songs and, if not for the lack of Ph.D.-level aesthetics words, of artists’ statements. The sun was coming up behind Myrtle and flooding downtown Brooklyn and all the lame new buildings that weren’t there when I moved here and creating a visible span between them and the old structures that have been here for decades, and with the recently renovated facades and newly empty lots; it sent me in a spiral of nostalgia and regret, typically a good despair brew tho this time it didn’t get to me that much. Still, I did run back through the unconnected reasoning, the irresponsible and the lazy decisions, failures to secure or to finish, dread, lack of determination, indolence and self-induced lethargy, in general the lack of respect for the severe effects of time and impermanence; then also the insensitivity, the assumptions, close-minded self-assurance, cowardice, the spots I’ve painted myself into. I assume that I’ve taken care of a good number of these issues partially, probably none of them completely; there’s a few I’ll never fix. When some fucking words to a Quiet Riot song pop into your head, the right thing to do is take them strictly for what they are – some fucking words to a Quiet Riot song – and don’t stop to think about them–
Spencer Brownstone Gallery is pleased to present our seventh solo exhibition with Brooklyn based artist, Jeff Gabel. The exhibition features paintings, murals, and small drawings hung at various heights with ladders and boxes to view them. Gabel’s small scale pencil drawings feature both real and imaginary people, amidst their routine, day-to-day embarrassments of life, best-forgotten office experiences, or the artist’s own inner monologue. Usually accompanied by a lengthy story or caption, it is the text that most deftly captures his subject, whether rampant speculation into their thoughts or tidy summations of their personalities. Gabel also delves into obscure foreign literature or popular music for material; with a flair for languages, he provides translation into his own twisted but relatable outlook.
Portland, OR, raised in Decatur, NE
Lives and works in Brooklyn, NY