Daniel RolnikAs I walked into JANCAR Gallery this month, I was greeted at the door by a gaping pussy. Or, rather, one seamlessly attached to a stuffed animal by the artist Micol Hebron — who, just a few months ago, wrapped up her solo show in the same space.
However, at that time, she had the whole gallery row of Chung King Road talking about her vaginal fountain composed of crystals, instead of her hilarious puppy on the verge of a queef.
So, after a good laugh, I began navigating the rest of the group exhibit, which is fittingly titled Narratives of the Perverse III. And the walls covered in nudes and bestiality scenes led a pathway to the gallery's basement, where I clumsily dropped my phone down the stairwell.
After racing to the bottom to pick it up, I looked up at the wall to see a photograph of a cock sticking out between two pillows. Turning away, I rushed to look through the peephole of a wooden door situated in the darkened shadows of the room. I figured it would lead to some sort of adventure. But when I put my eye to the glass there was a picture of a woman spread eagle on a lawn. Bravo JANCAR, bravo!
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