Nick Kramer (MFA '08) solo exhibition at Anthony Greaney in Boston


The Thing About This Town

April–May, 2011
Opening reception: Friday, April 8th, 6-8 pm

Anthony Greaney
450 Harrison Avenue
Boston, MA 02118
Wednesday-Saturday, 12-6 pm and by appointment

Two untitled texts by Michael Ned Holte—

What is real and what is make believe?

The stunt double, something of a cunning stud, stumbles onto the set at the last possible moment and immediately falls through a false wall—almost casually, but never missing the invisible marks.


The wall is propped up, just like new, brick by brick. Then, once and twice again, this event, this collapse—same as before but each time with gestures ever more subtle, if one could measure it.

In any event, it's over in a split second. And in this brief instant, a painted backdrop suddenly becomes foreground before dissolving into the blankness of space. This is the daily rhythm of constructing illusion: hurry up and wait, the urgency of vacant potential.

Humming softly, the double exits—past the grips and riggers, props and craft services, tools, scraps of foamcore and rope awaiting an art director—to the edge of the frame and the limit of peripheral vision.

Pull back to reveal the expanding seams of a larger reality: life itself, or perhaps its perfect mirror. In this mirror artifice disappears; the double is the actor; the stage is the grid of everyday reality if one could only see the difference.


Something vacant (almost, but never invisible) is awaiting the ever expanding limit of peripheral vision: a false brick wall or its cunning illusion of rope (Grips and Riggers), the painted edge of a stud casually propped up, subtle marks dissolving the blankness of a grid over foamcore.

In the foreground the double—a perfect double—is the mirror of this larger reality, and in the mirror the backdrop becomes the new frame. Real space (perhaps) disappears into the seams of this brick wall, and in this brief instant props and scraps double any missing gestures.

And if one could wait... suddenly, at the last possible moment, the actor (humming softly by the exits) falls back to reality—onto the stage of everyday life, with the director, same as before.

What this event services, then, is but the collapse of an artifice in a split second. More pull each time, just like before. The event is daily rhythm and, if art, it stumbles past craft and tools to reveal itself constructing difference one could see through.

And, what is the potential urgency of this stunt? The hurry is only make-believe.

Measure twice, cut once, and immediately it's set up again.