Like a number of younger artists, Angeleno Aaron Curry traffics in a mix of early-20th-centruy modernist motifs, though his recipe (a cup of Pablo Picasso here, a half cup of Alexander Calder there, plus a dash of Surrealism to taste) has been accused of lacking substance—more ice cream than steak. Personally, I have no problem with ice cream. Like the old saying goes, “Life is short; eat dessert first,” so if Curry’s latest outing is something of a sugar high, so what?
Though he’s known for sculptures, Curry offers paintings divided between irregular and conventionally shaped canvases. There’s always been a science-fictional resonance to his work, but he’s dialed it up while adding top notes of psychedelia and SoCal Kustom Kulture. The results play formalist footsie with debased genres, as if Frank Stella had dropped acid before taking up van murals and backlight posters.
My Brain Is an Antenna, for instance, suggest communion with extraterrestrials. It features a Cubistically distorted portrait head covered with what appears to be internal organs. A metal rod sticks out of its forehead—the titular link to space, be it inner or outer. My Head Feels Weird, meanwhile, speaks for itself.
If you’re avoiding fast-burning calories in you viewing regimen, Curry’s work may not be for you. If, however, you’re looking for a tasty hit of optical pleasure, you could do a lot worse that this show.
