Near the entrance of the gallery soars Mericarp, a 10-foot-tall towering dandelion with menacing snaggletoothed leaves. The industrial powder-coated marine aluminum and galvanized sculpture is painted black.
His tarantula-black and powder-white woodcut-style paintings and drawings are starkly graphic and exude a weird Disney cartoon vibe.
Paul Morrison's dandelions are more menacing than merry.
Cristina Lei Rodriguez and Paul Morrison; Through May 24; Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin, 194 NW 30th St., Miami; 305-573-2130, www.galerieperrotin.com
Some of the landscapes depict monstrous flora engulfing a shrinking copse of trees; others feature ornate baskets brimming with prickly blooms, evoking the Brothers Grimm.
The dandelion is a recurring motif. Galbulus — the artist gives his pieces scientific names signifying parts of plants — portrays one of the nettlesome weeds as its seeds burst upon a manicured lawn.
In these sometimes unsettling images, Morrison's looming plants and trees often drown a tiny solitary shack or windmill in the far background.
Despite their familiarity, these images remain rife with a pervasive melancholia resonating with muffled gloom. They are simply gorgeous, immaculately executed works that tweak perception with a skull-humping finesse.