By Monique Jones
By Travis Cohen
By Liz Tracy
By Terrence McCoy
By Morgan Golumbuk
By Ciara LaVelle
By Carolina del Busto
By Michael E. Miller
He takes what appear to be miles of vinyl tape used for pinstriping and creates compositions that seem to fuse geometric abstraction with Op Art, achieving a collagelike effect imbedded in pancake-thick coats of impenetrable glossy resin. Named after an etching by Francisco Goya, the exhibit draws comparisons between artist and laborer, between judgment and taste, between the one-of-a-kind original and the mass-produced knockoff. Perry employs the same technique as a blue-collar drone would when detailing a gun-metal-gray Benz with butterscotch interiors and 27-inch rims. His meticulous, labor-intensive process also serves as a commentary on the growing consumer fetishism for individuality.
An untitled SUV-size piece features brown, maroon, and burgundy strips of tape overlapping each other in a basket-weave fashion in the background. In the middle of the composition, what looks like a Maltese cross fills a diamondlike enamel field that shimmers in waves of iridescent hues. The surface is as slick as a surfboard, with raw zones of plywood peeking through the congealed ribbons of tape.
In another piece named after the exhibit, one observes what appears to be a starburst or a rainbow being sucked into a black hole. This painting, like others in the show, looks machine-made rather than painstakingly crafted by the artist's hand.
Observing Perry's work, one begins to notice he has taken a quantum lurch toward perfection. He creates what might be termed zones of desire or a refracted prism into a subculture eager for life in the fast lane or at the very least hooking up with J.Lo for some action in the back of an Escalade.