JUSTIN ADIAN

Is it sculpture, or is it painting, or is it something else entirely? This is the question that seems to naturally shadow the conversation surrounding Justin Adian’s provocative work. In Tipsy, on view at Almine Rech, Shanghai from 13 January– 11 March, 2023,Adian continues to plumb this liminal territory with works that quite physically reside on atilt, staunch in their sly and playful refusal to firmly alight on one side or the other.

The sense of unbalance in these works is compounded by their verticality; thereis an innate, oblique figurative reference in these pieces, which hang tall and flush to thewall. But the mysterious, organic forms of their composition confer upon the works a moreancient quality, as if we were witnessing a cairn marking the way upon a trail, or morepointedly, perhaps a totem marking that suggestion of corporeality.

Working in his signature style, Adian conceives of his individual objects throughan elaborate drawing process that includes sketching first on paper, and then cutting hisshapes from three, layered pieces of plywood. He sands, saws, and hollows out the woodin what he considers a continuation of this drawing process, albeit one that manifeststhrough the use of hand, tool, and physical labour. From there felt is stretched over theshapes and then covered again by canvas. The forms can only come together in one way;Adian assembles them as they were dreamt of in his mind’s eye. The underlying felt givesthe shapes their softness, a plush quality that bestows the viewer with an irresistible urgeto touch. The perceived cushions of the work, like a soft pillow or the curve of a cheek, longfor caress. This conjuring of pillows or skin provokes an acute compassion, and nurturesan intimacy between work and viewer that is profoundly humane.

With echoes of the work of John McCracken or Robert Morris in their refusal tocommit to one medium or another, the ‘tipsiness’ of these three-dimensional paintings isevident in their construct. Both Across the Line (2022) and Staying Put (2022) are notablefor their Jenga-like configuration of mismatched shapes. In the former, a duo of skinnybuttresses underpin a pair of circular shapes, which in turn hold up a slanted platform.Atop this wobbling tower sits one more ball, poised as if it were about to roll from thestructure, and possibly topple it all. In the latter, two slender, pillar-shaped forms seemto support three precariously stacked orbs, which themselves bear the load of three horizontally laid, slab-like objects. In considering Adian’s roguish construction, we know intellectually that the forms hang united on the wall, and yet there’s a fanciful, but powerful,impression that it could all be knocked over with a feather.

On first glance, both Empty the Sun (2022) and Hardscrabble (2022) feel sturdier.The boxy elements of Empty the Sun nestle against each other, as if in an embrace. With itswide, irregular rectangles engulfing a sphere at the centre, the muscular composition ofHardscrabble belies the uncertainty of its title, a rough-and-tumble term for the struggleof labor. Upon deep reflection, we appreciate the tenuousness—and tenderness—of theforms holding together. Whether the centre can hold is a question that underlies all art,and indeed, humanity.

Almost Too Much (2022) also dances on a threshold. Three circular shapes and aslim pillar again support two bulkier, top-heavy objects in an arrangement that seems as ifit all rests upon a cushioned plinth. Adian allows space in his work for temporality to exist.The viewer regards it with anticipation; the off-balance sensation of three tremulous ballspossibly holding a bit more than they can bear is tangible. Likewise, his cunning gestureto the pedestal, the workaday structure so intrinsic to the display of art itself, is anotherinstance of the artist at play. He once again gestures to the question we began with: is itsculpture or is it painting, or is his work something else entirely? The viewer looks closer,resists the urge to touch, and is drawn ever deeper into the chimerical mystery of Adian’sguileful work.

Justin Adian (b. 1976, Fort Worth, Texas) lives and works in New York. He receivedhis BFA from the University of North Texas and an MFA from Rutgers University. His workis included in the permanent collections of the Dallas Museum of Art, the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, the Bowdoin College Museum of Art, and the San Antonio Museum ofArt. This is his third solo exhibition with Almine Rech.

Press release courtesy Almine Rech. Text: Jessica Holmes.