A few years ago in the NY Times, Ken Johnson wrote that Lisa Yuskavage’s paintings were sly, soft-porn fantasies of pneumatic women in hazes of auto-erotic reverie.
“Some will say that she is subversively toying with the male gaze; others, noting the melting light in her pictures, that she is mainly a fine painter. Still others might read her overheated style as a spoof of a certain Old World painterly kitsch. Underlying all that is the daring exploration — at once carnal, mystical and funny — of forbidden zones of feminine experience and desire. It all makes an exhilarating, mysteriously ambiguous visual poetry.”
Is it completely uncool to say I hate these paintings? I know they’re really well painted, but…
“Lisa Yuskavage,” David Zwirner, New York, NY. through March 28.