Continental Breakfast was a group show that took place at Mountain View Mausoleum in Altadena, CA, from May 11-24, 2024. Curated by myself, featuring the work of 9 artists, as well as readings + music in the chapel during the reception. Continental breakfast offerings were provided by Lizzie Klein, who also had work in the show.
Promotional Flyer by Madelyn Kellum.
Press Release
“He felt closer to dust, he said, than to light, air or water. There was nothing he found so unbearable as a well-dusted house, and he never felt more at home than in places where things remain undisturbed, muted under the grey, velvety sinter left when matter dissolved, little by little, into nothingness.”
- w.g. sebald
Continental Breakfast seeks recuperative interpretations of all that appears on the surface to be self-evident, pathetic, and obliquely lancing in our everyday lives. A glowing pitcher of orange juice in saran wrap head-gear, a sad croissant proposing some ghostly semblance of satiation...but what lies beyond these fallow textures and impressions? Can we hope for more than crumbs?
The answer is maybe, sometimes. The continental breakfast might constitute provisional nutrition, but there are restorative flavors to be found. Breakfast is the gastrointestinal dawn. Did you forget what came before?
Remember the dreamless sleep. In bed–yours, or someone else’s, or a sort of primeval no man’s bed in an unfamiliar location, a place that’s been left behind by countless travelers before you, receding into the tininess of a rearview mirror. Y ou tumble into a restless, meager nightmare that is somehow still many degrees less absurd than ‘real life’. Quotidian and claustrophobic, teeming with foregone conclusions, macerating portents, corpus twisted up in the sheet. There is no reprieve in the dark, only tawdry recreations of days gone by. And the days…geez. So what really is breakfast then, if not a febrile attempt to bring the light back into our lives after being plunged into the depths and powered down?
Oh, continental.
Look above, behind, and below--art and inurnment, the grief-stuff of life. Breathlessly we find our way out.
Thrive cosmic,
Jasminne Morataya
All documentation photos by Chris Hanke.
Think about doing something really cool (2023)
Amy Anderson
Color pencil and ink on paper.
Great (2023)
Amy Anderson
Color pencil and ink on paper.
I see the player piano as the grandfather of the computer, the ancestor of the entire nightmare we live in, the birth of the binary world where there is no option other than yes and no, and there is no refuge. (2024)
Sarah Ferrara
Ink on paper.
Soulseek (2024)
Sarah Ferrara
Graphite on paper.
Saint Michael Slaying the Demon (2024)
Madelyn Kellum
Oil on Canvas, 36 x 46.
Sign for Sending (2020)
Gabriel Garza
Cardboard, Sharpie.
Riverbed (2023)
Caitlin McCann
Oil on canvas, 40 x 50.
Lancaster (2024)
Lizzie Klein
Framed photographs.
I Celebrated My Birthday at Morongo Resort and Casino (2024)
Brad Urman
found t-shirt, wool and cotton thread, ink, wire, aqua-resin.
delightfull (2024)
Well Walston
Ink on bristol.
(Portrait of Her) (2024)
Harrison Wayne
12.5% hydrogen peroxide solution, butterfly wing, penny, glass bottle.
(Untitled (Jasminne)) (2024)
Harrison Wayne
Poplar, pine, reclaimed wood from Tennessee Casket & Coffin Factory, reclaimed church doors, latex paint, and various collected objects. Assembled collaboratively with curator.