By Catherine Wagley
By Channing Sargent
By L.A. Weekly critics
By Amanda Lewis
By Catherine Wagley
By Carol Cheh
By Keegan Hamilton
By Bill Raden
On the wall behind the table, Math Bass' resoled Timberland boots sit on a white-framed, Plexiglas shelf. Bass had the shoes resoled after wearing them almost beyond saving — now they're working-class and extravagant at the same time.
Artist Christine Wang's digital collage, printed large, landscape-style, and hung near the back of the space, merges images of iconic Last Judgment paintings — Michelangelo's blond, buff, almost-nude Christ figure is at the center — with images of items Wang has purchased, like perfume and novelty socks, and records of donations she's made to certain causes, like the Youth Justice Coalition.
Back in the front room is the film Kaminski shot at an Alhambra Heights home he rented for $490 with actors who agreed, with goodwill that Kaminski found remarkable, to play the parts of affluent, carefree teens in return for a reel. On opening night, the film's infectiously optimistic soundtrack, which musician Tucker Robinson helped Kaminski to compose, filled the gallery until about 9:30, when a trio of performances began.
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Devin Kenny did a free-roaming set in which he played DJ and rapper, ending by nearly screaming, "Silence is golden ... golden ... golden." Wang and Sally Spitz performed sort of a stream-of-consciousness, abject comedy routine. Their raw, sing-songy brattiness belied the careful structuring of their rants, and campy, raunchy videos played behind them as they passive-aggressively attacked each other for having certain social or racial advantages. "She went to University of Caucasians lost among Asians," Spitz said of Wang, before complaining that "fresh off the boat" Wang already has gallery representation. "She is so white and it's like white girls just have this idealized image," Wang said of Spitz.
Bass ended the night with a 20-second performance. Wearing Timberlands like the ones on the wall, she threw down a flat "footbridge," as she's begun calling it, made of slats of wood connected by blue canvas. It made a clunk, and then clunked a little more when she walked across it. A few days later she explained the act as "this knotty positioning of privilege," as "throwing out the amount of space that you're allowed to take up." She was performing limitedness, but not in an accusatory way, just in a way that lays out the situation.
THE PRIVILEGE SHOW | Control Room, 2006 E. Seventh St., dwntwn | Through July 14 | control-room.org