![]() ![]() ![]() Sometimes, perhaps, a tree is just a tree.īut usually it's not. Costumed and bandaged in the shimmery cloth, the hanged tree was almost painfully anthropomorphic, although the purple-gray material also read as bark or evening light. The trunk and branches had been wrapped with sewn strips of what looked like heavy silk, torn from a suit coat Alvarez once wore in a performance. The show began with Remnant (from action), 2000, a ten-foot-rail dead sapling suspended upside down from the ceiling so that its twig tips grazed the floor. Cool, almost simple on the surface, the innocent images and objects in the show seemed to have absorbed and given shape to a mournful humor, a macabre eroticism, abject desire, and confusion. But the trees, spiderwebs, and parks of “Sculpture Garden,” his second solo exhibition in New York, had as much, or as little, to do with nature as a fairy tale has with fairies. Alvarez's personal vocabulary refers to the natural world and its uneasy infiltration of the urban environment. Each piece segues into the next like chapters in an evocative but fragmentary novel, weaving non-narrative stories that buzz with human presence but in which no human appears. ![]()
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