Latest Rob Pruitt show at 303 Gallery is a deeply personal one (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
SKYSCAPES . . .
303 Gallery
555 West 21st. St. between 10th & 11th Aves.
Through March 7
www.303gallery.com
www.robpruitt.com
In the fall of 2023, Rob Pruitt presented “The Golden Hour” at 303 Gallery in Chelsea, a show in which the DC-born artist faced his approaching sixtieth birthday with one of his “Flea Markets,” in this case a collection of personal objects that visitors could pore over and take one home; as I write this, one of Pruitt’s cigar boxes is right next to me.
His latest exhibition at 303, today titled “Watching the Sun Set and Drinking Beer with Friends Is the Highest Form of Art” — the name changes every day; it began on January 15 as “Skyscapes” — is another deeply personal show, focusing on the loss of his sister, Gina, who died on December 7, 2025, following a stroke. The works on view include his monthly 2025 “Sunrises” watercolor and silkscreen ink calendar series, ceramic fruit bowls, selections from his “Bright Light” acrylic on linen series, two of his “Suicide Paintings,” and the concrete sculpture Karen, a cat on the floor looking up at Bright Light — Purple.
In the back room are two works by his partner, Jonathan Horowitz: the video Father land: Wilhelm Reich, Jacques Morali, et al., about gay culture and authoritarian political ideology, and the gold-plated bronze Crucifix for Two.
There is a warm radiance to the gallery as Pruitt explores time. The show is accompanied by a heart-wrenching artist statement that places everything in context and is worth adding here in full:
Tragedy, like joy, can fall out of the sky.
When I was working on this show, my sister Gina suffered multiple strokes and was rendered paralyzed from the neck down, unable to speak. She made the decision to stop treatment and end her life on her own terms. This changed the show for me and I changed the show.
As I sat with Gina and recounted memories from our childhood, I thought about what she might be experiencing. She liked the room filled with light and liked to face the sun, even with her eyes closed. I imagined that she might be seeing bright, vivid colors.
The suicide paintings started for me as an expression of my own social anxiety. They were about punching a hole through a wall to make an escape, leaving one space and entering another space. With the paintings I made for Gina, the metaphor became literal. But not suicide from a place of darkness and depression. Just a choice.
Also, while the show was coming together, I could hear my partner Jonathan Horowitz from the room next door, working day after day on a video project. He never told me what the video was about, but I would occasionally hear familiar fragments – a Village People song, clips from the movies Cruising with Al Pacino and Saturday Night Fever, chanting political rioters. When Jonathan was finished and showed me the work, I was blown away. It’s called Father land: Wilhelm Reich, Jacques Morali, et al. and it’s about hyper masculinity and gay history and the political nightmare that we’re all living through today. Somehow, the particularity of his work seemed like a perfect counterpoint to the generality of mine. I asked him if I could put his video in the project room of the gallery, coming through the wall like at our house.
These were my days when I made the show. They are embedded within the work.
Rob Pruitt