Canyon Castator watches us watching villains. While we sit, shoveling down popcorn with avaricious enthusiasm, waiting for the hero to swoop in and save the day, Castator watches us. How we cheer when they’re taken down. Patting the backs of paladins, nodding to ourselves in knowing self-indulgent congratulations. We always knew we were on the right side of history. In America, we are liberty and justice for all.* We won. Evil is defeated. How good we feel when the hero is handed the key to the city. Cheers. Applause. Our support, we think, was part and parcel of Goliath’s downfall. We are good. They are bad. Life is black and white—a uniquely stupid concept increasingly ubiquitous with the new American Dream. Sure, the world is getting worse, but we are more moral than ever. WE’RE SPREADING AWARENESS and demanding the destruction of existing institutions without offering alternative solutions. Maybe that’s not ideal, but we’re busy. We’ve got selfies to take with “I Voted” stickers after blindly going down the ballot. *Lol, jk. In Castator’s solo presentation with Stems Gallery at Ibiza’s inaugural Contemporary Art Now, Castator pokes at our least reflective selves and stylistically advances the thematic exploration of narrative righteousness established in “Hero Complex” at Carl Koystal. Through this show, his attention to scapegoating and the irredeemably bad has evolved, with deft artistic choices that expand universal laws with a hint of cheek. These choices inherently induce an intelligent smirk, followed by a palm to the face—the end effect I can only assume Castator is hoping for. Featuring all-new work in a brand new medium, Castator’s CAN exhibition introduces a digital alternative to the market fetishized oil-on-linen. Using aluminum canvases and layered printing processes, viewers are introduced to the direct frangibility of digitally created art. Due to the aluminum’s nonexistent porosity, Castators colorful creations were subject to mechanical entropy—the printer deciding when and where colors would move with each pass. Even Castator was unaware of how it would turn out and was pleasantly surprised by the resulting visibility of the top-coated diaphanous line drawings that skeletonize his usual practice. Content-wise, Castator has stripped worldly laws from his usual crew of characters, ripping the sense out of their society. In a visually satisfying choice, his subjects that were previously confined to gravity and Earth, now swirl about without a leg to stand on. You know, like most people and their opinions. Acknowledging the aforementioned, to say Castator’s work is political would be offensive. The work isn’t grounded in specific democratic ideology, at least not inherently. To Castator, politics are a mirage of past cooperation and problem-solving; “political” could mean anything colloquially, and that’s the problem. Dogma is more aligned with branding than action, leaving those left behind even farther in the dust. Still, if you’re concerned about the notable dark thematic exploration, never fear. Where some nihilism might steer into Doestovaskian doom spiraling, Castator is interestingly more Nietzchien Übermensch (the only post-war existential hero for self agents). There is levity in the work necessary to transcend above the established morals and prejudices of human society to eventually define his own purpose and values in life. The latter is evident in his consistent turn to comedy in subtle ways not inherently obvious to the viewer at first. Instead, you must sit with the piece, and peel back the layers visually—a doubly poignant activity given the work’s production and premise, and one lighting up the debaucherous Iberian coastline. Text written by Canyon's hot friend Alexis Schwartz
CAN IBIZA: FECOEV Recinto Ferial, Ibiza
Past event