Gone Fishin’, 2019
Oil on canvas
60″ x 84″

 

Non-Stop Supersonic Service, 2012
Mixed media, ball-point pen on rag paper
26″ x 40″

 

48 Days In June, 2017
Oil on canvas
24″ x 24″

 

5th Sunday Boner, 2019
Graphite on rag paper
22″ x 30″

 

Motorist On Long Island (Hot 4 Pence), 2019
Graphite on rag paper
23 1/4″ x 30 1/2″

 

Maybe Someday, 2011
Graphite, ball-point pen on rag paper
17 3/4″ x 22 3/4″

 

Meine Hausfrau, 2018
Pencil on rag paper
19″ x 26″

 

Motorist In Queens, 2010
Pencil, ball-point pen on rag paper
38″ x 48″

 

No Credit No Future No Problem, 2012
Pencil, ball-point pen on rag paper
18″ x 24″

It’s About F***ing Time

March 18th – April 17th, 2022


Curated by Amelia Biewald

The Royal @ RSOAA is pleased to present It’s About F***ing Time, an exhibition curated by Amelia Biewald featuring Paul Brainard.

“Someone once had said to her that the sky hides the night behind it…at any moment the rip can occur, the edges fly back, and the giant maw will be revealed.”
– Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

Paul Brainard’s drawings and paintings invite us to travel with him to a shrouded land of liminal spaces, both bizarre and familiar. Like dreams whose cadence you can’t describe, his works lurch and lumber through a dominion disfigured yet defined by everyday media saturation, tinged with attendant despair.

From the smoothed incisions of antique gravestones to the babble of images in bundled newsprint, Brainard leans into a feedback loop of self-reflection, questioning the compromises we make in the banalities of life that provide us daily with a temporary spiritual safety. His works attempt to capture a void, a moon’s far side deepening a well of blackness encircled by a lethally vast starfield.

Brainard compels us in these works to weigh the value of artificiality against the reality we can grasp in hand, with the time we have; a non-factual but poetic biography. Time and memory are unmasked as unreliable crewmates on this expedition.

Judgment and core mentality are whispered questions in Brainard’s art, a strange grammar hinting at the restless traces of his process.