Dinner With Those Who Might Wish Me Dead: Prior Reinhardt Examines The Effort Of Existence
By Elizabeth Brabham
The title of Prior Reinhardt’s solo exhibition, Such An Effort might seem a bit incongruous, considering that the show is only three pieces. Upon closer examination, it becomes clear that this is not the case. The conceptual richness of the small show appeals to those like me, who grow weary of constant visual bombardment. Displayed on the lower floor of The Plastic Club — a repurposed row home in the heart of Philly’s Gayborhood— each work hangs on its own wall, and bears a title that alludes to the theme of the show: the artist’s recovery, post-gender-affirming surgery.
The paintings, rendered in Reinhardt’s preferred medium of oils, are displayed in a dining room, which is set as if to host an intimate conversation between friends over dinner. The collection of self-portraits could pass for a tryptic, but their staggered placement indicates that they should be encountered as individuals. The arrangement offers autonomy, and something feels “correct” about viewing the pieces in sequence from right to left.
The first piece, “Sedentary,” depicts the artist mid-convalescence. Bare arms resting on the bandaged torso, this is the only figure in the three works with discernible facial features. The fevered skin glows next to the coolness of the blankets and surrounding walls. Although cast in shadow, a visible question rests on the face of the figure— perhaps whether or not the pain will be worth it?
The second piece, “After All That,” depicts a bare and headless torso standing before a bright green wall, the limbs and hands searching a set of scars. The pose reminds me of the moments I’ve spent dissecting my own body in front of a mirror, examining the familiar and changed, with combined disbelief and excitement. Given the financial, psychological, physical, and emotional turmoil with which gender dysphoria manifests, the simplicity of the composition might be a hint at the obviousness of the solution.
The final piece, “Lycanthrope,” portrays a darkened figure, cast in light from behind. Again appearing shirtless, the near-featureless figure is in shadow, but the “questioning” present in the previous pieces has been replaced with confidence. The brushwork is active and bright. The figure, shoulders back, is sure. The recovery is complete, but the title suggests a duality. Standing in the Plastic Club’s dining room amongst tables and chairs, with a kitchen sink in my periphery, I cannot help but be reminded of the fact that the modern American dining room is a microcosm of our current political climate, and the implications of a trans artist entitling a self-portrait “Lycanthrope” within this context are not lost.
Although Reinhardt’s work is not presented as bearing any political leaning, within the contemporary lens, there is not much space for the personal to be removed from the political. The trans community’s exceedingly-vulnerable status (courtesy of the current administration) means that identity itself is an endeavor. “Such An Effort” refers not only to Reinhardt’s artistic investment in the collection, but also the day-to-day demand placed upon them, simply as a byproduct of their existence.
‘Such An Effort’ was on view February 2nd—February 20th in the Bob Jackson Gallery at The Plastic Club, 247 S. Camac St., Philadelphia, PA 19107. Check out Reinhardt’s work on their website and Instagram.
About the Author
Elizabeth Brabham is a Fine Arts junior at Moore College of Art and Design who splits her time between making art on the surface of the earth, and cocktails 30,000ft above it.
This post is part of a collaborative project between Artblog and Chenoa Baker’s Writing for Art and Design class at Moore College of Art and Design.
