Boudoir of Doubt, Animalic
Sadaf H Nava

Opens Friday 27 September 2019, 6-8PM
17 Essex St New York, NY 10002


โ€œThere is no difference between what a book talks about and how it is made.  Therefore a book also has no object.โ€  โ€“โ€“Deleuze & Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

 Intuition is precisely that which overflows.

A body of a thousand tiny engines metabolizing and ejecting text; flows, currents, paths, lineages, lifespans, leaves in the wind, migrations of a million arrows/eros sp[i/e]lling into every exterior, looping upwards and downwards and ducking sideways to create walls from flooring.  They do not compose words, barter with vessels of meaning: Iโ€™m not talking about tiles of text but textiles, pure closure, a tapestry of repeating (w)holes, a place of exchange between viewers and artifacts that constitutes no subject matter but the naked matter of the work.

Intoxication: the impossibility of finding out where the orchidโ€™s map ends and the waspโ€™s begins (or vice versa).

Maps inescapably physical; fabrics easily creased, torn, burned, taped to the wall, dropped in the corner of a bar where someone else could pick it up and use it differently or doodle in the margins or over the old markings or simply sweep it into the trash.  No preconceived set of possibilities, only touch, only the possibility of invention.

Seduction as this sole possibility; an act that doesnโ€™t take but only proliferates as immeasurable hazard, a contagion of vertiginous agency, a freedom that irreversibly locks you into your trajectory, away from the inchoate difference that could have been. โ€œAlternateโ€ histories never possible, existing only as apparitions of this single interior: a strong and beautiful horse, a mercurial waterfall twisted into a perpetual virility machine, feet of latex and concrete fiddling against the river's current.  To induce further significance, to suppose these automata possess insides of their own, chambers not yet explored, would be to browbeat, brutalize them into submission, into forcing a single (wh)Y for each X you engrave on their flesh.

They offer no shortcuts to finding out when the palace becomes a prison and when and if youโ€™ll ever come back from that point, of knowing whether itโ€™s your decor, or me?

โ€“โ€“Alex Boland

Sadaf H Nava is an Iranian born, New York city based visual artist and composer whose multidisciplinary interventions include sound, drawing, painting, performance and film. Sadafโ€™s visuals, sonics, and confrontational performative tactics oscillate between opacity and narrative, often layered with cinematic and literary iterations. Sadafโ€™s work aims to confound and upend the inward-looking affect inherent to contemporary performance, simultaneously drawing from and subverting the languages of auto-fiction and the artist/muse relationship. Her original compositions present a mรฉlange of intuitive and clashing material inspired by contemporary global archaeologies of sound, always flirting with noise. Her paintings and visual work follows a similar process of improvisation, with a focus on self portraiture, fragmented narratives and re-enacted memory.

Sadaf has presented work at : MoMa PS1 Warm Up and MoMa Sunday sessions, Issue Project Room, Performa Festival, Gavin Brown Enterprises, Yale Union art space, 9th Berlin Biennale, Fabrica de Arte Cubano, Museum of Fine Arts Montreal, 3HD Festival in Berlin and Hyperlocal Festival in LondonHer work has been featured in Pitchfork, The Wire, ID magazine, FADER and the Guardian UK. Sadaf released her debut EP, SHELL, on LA based label Outside Insight, and her first full-length LP, History of Heat, on Brooklyn based label Blueberry Records.