Memories fade. That’s the one good reason, as far as I can see, to compile an end-of-year list. It’s sometimes startling to retrace what attracted my attention over the course of a year; it is also instructive to determine where such a miscellany of shows fits in with ongoing areas of interest, and which ones, in hindsight, merited the time it took to review them.
The Icelandic landscapes in Kris Graves’ photographs are not pristine, not all of them. There’s a road here, a guardrail there, the lights of a distant town beneath a neon-green aurora borealis.
Sometimes art happens by accident, like teenage pregnancy. On occasion the mishap can be fortuitous.