For some time, I’ve mocked Yancey Richardson’s ability to
suck the life out of even the most effervescent bodies of work. For the record those
days are officially over. Because despite Kereszi’s tendency to create complex
formal but occasionally reductively formal pictures, Yancey Richardson was able
to put on the best show of Kereszi’s work I’ve ever seen.
In book form, where Kereszi has a little more room to
stretch her legs, her more formal, even decorative work recedes into the
shadows of stronger narrative images that delve into tawdry strip clubs and
haunted houses, reoccurring themes of desperate places that were once purveyors
of base entertainment. The Party’s Over (maybe minus the picture of porthole
windows) is the best show of her work I’ve ever seen. Almost every photograph
contains the remnants of emotionally loaded cultural locations from a strip
club’s parking lot to a lake with a large plastic shark behind a bar. Kereszi’s
morning-after esthetic has become even more relevant in the continuing economic
stagnation, where those who inhabit such places will find themselves for sometime
to come, staring at pink walls and forgotten plastic sharks.
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