Ended
Nicholas Sullivan
Chrysler
Nov 13, 2024 – Jan 11, 2025
Nicholas Sullivan’s practice is caught between American historical fetishism and the direct material arbitration. He mines bygone forms and figures for the benefit of his own dimensional investigations. Each of Sullivan’s objects begin as metal forms or armatures. In earlier bodies of work, he used rolled paper as the structural components, then covered them with newsprint. Recently, however, the artist traded in paper for round bar steel, absorbing Lee Bontecou’s method of stretching fabric over welded constructions. Over time, Sullivan began sheeting the objects entirely, prior to collaging them. This has allowed for a more stable surface to push paper into. Three of the works on view follow this method - their pulpy mosaic exteriors as evidence.
There is also beauty lodged in the materials; Sunburnt lithographic images connotate works from Jasper Johns or Rauschenberg and their particular New York moment that is generative for Sullivan. He sources antique newspapers and magazines for the sake of these sculptural skins. Many are from the Nixon-era–American dream epoch. Sullivan relates these subjects back to the present day, how all of the projections from the mid-twentieth century have materialized. Much like the stove–an object on the edge of obsolescence–these ideas and headlines follow the same logic.
The two car-stove hybrids are a continuation of his ongoing subject in sheet metal, but this time they’ve been negotiating in pressed tin or steel toys from the same eras as the found newspapers. They’re also cast around the base shape of the car, with a continuity between automobile and wood stove that forms its own collage. Here, the artist references Robert Grosvenor: his excavated car interiors and polished exteriors. A confluence of ears decorate another untitled work, reflecting an interest in the relationship between interiority and exteriority as well as pulling the representational body into the fold. They largely obstruct the inside of the form, yet provide slight windows into the artwork. In a compatible sculpture, Sullivan reveals antique brass bells hanging within expanded metal grating. The suspended objects represent organs, conflating the experience of anatomy with that of the stove. Heat and fluctuation are also operative themes here.
Finally, there’s the horizontally bound sculpture, which is one of the largest and least vernacular forms in the show. Based on a sewing machine cover, the pale yellow and silver object developed after a series of experiments in the studio. For the most recent iteration, Sullivan extrudes the frame and cuts a cross shaped opening into its face. Martin Puryear’s Confessional and Richard Prince’s hoods were the referents for this object, and Sullivan minds the gaps between these two while impressing his own logic upon the works in this show. This particular work provides a formal counterpoint to the other objects in the exhibition with its extreme horizontality and flattened point of contact. Its vital organization has tendrils that pervade into the exhibition: automobiles, industry, Americana, and Modern art.
Nicholas Sullivan (b. 1987 in Canterbury, USA) lives and works in Brooklyn, USA.
He received his BFA from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, Amherst in 2010, and his MFA from Massachusetts College of Art and Design, Boston in 2013.
Solo and two-person exhibitions of his work have been held at International Waters, New York; Underdonk, New York; Catbox Contemporary, New York; My Pet Ram, New York; Mumbo’s Outfit, New York; HG, Chicago, and No Place Gallery, Columbus.
His work has been included in group exhibitions at Ki Smith Gallery, New York; Fortnight Institute, New York; Shoot The Lobster, New York; The Pit, Los Angeles; Galería Mascota, Mexico City; Klaus Von Nichtssagend Gallery, New York; Amity, New York; Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston; Brennan & Griffin, New York; Amity / Carlyle Packer, Los Angeles; International Objects, New York; Thierry Goldberg Gallery, New York; Alyssa Davis Gallery, New York; and P71, Berlin.









