We rarely know what we want, our desires are opaque to us, but we know that art is a fiction that tells the truth and accumulates its deadly charge through history, cannibalizing older works of art and birthing forth new ones.
In Lizzy Lunday’s new body of work, we encounter figures and compositions that lightly evoke a range of mythological and religious scenes from the history of art.
Her paintings retain the density of these references, but issues new visions from them, shot through with her characteristically oneiric, tastefully perverse visuals.
In Lunday’s works (as in life), intimacy operates throughout as a problem of definition rather than as a describable fact.
