"After Willhide’s laptop was stolen, and then recovered, she discovered that the photographic files she'd stored there—some original, some appropriated—had been corrupted but not destroyed. Pictures had scrambled and repeated in such freakish ways that she was inspired to create more in the same vein. As a result, images of swimmers, athletes, and nude models stutter, shatter, or shift abruptly into abstraction, as if on a TV screen whose signals have gone haywire. Lips and breasts stack up like products on shelves; bodies flip and distort, often in clashing, unstable fluorescent colors. Willhide jolts psychedelia with a digital cattle prod. Through March 24"
Read more @ The New Yorker
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