”...SHE SET THERE MOTIONLESS. HER BODY WAS A BLANK CANVAS AND I HAD THE URGE TO TOUCH HER BUT SHE WAS TOO FAR TO BE TOUCH AND TOO CLOSE TO BE REACHED. A WINDOW HAS OPENED AND THE WIND BLEW THROUGH IT. I HEARD ONCE THAT WHEN THIS KIND OF FIRE STARTED IT BURNED DOWN EVERYTHING. IT MUST HAVE BEEN AWFULLY HOT THERE BUT SHE STILL LOOKED FROZEN. HER PALE FACE HAD NO COLOR EXCEPT THE DRIPPING BLOOD FROM HER NOSE. OH, PLEASE, SOMEBODY, DO SOMETHING AND GIVE A KLEENEX TO THIS POOR GIRL-I THOUGHT-BUT THERE WAS NO NEED FOR IT BECAUSE THE DRIP WAS ONLY PAINTED. A DOOR WAS SHUT VIOLENTLY. ON THE SAME BEAT HER OTHER SELF HAS FALLEN OUT OF HER BODY. SLAM…SLAM…SLAM…AND WHITENESS HAS TAKEN OVER AGAIN, JUST AS NOTHING HAPPENED BEFORE EVER OR AFTER. I DON T THINK SHE EVER HAS TOUCHED A GUN BUT THIS GIRL COULD CLEAN A BATHROOM WHITER THAN SNOW…..” Rita Ackermann

Lillian Ludlow’s history as a designer (Imitation of Christ, Somnus) filmmaker, and artist has inspired New York’s downtown scene for years. In her first solo show she offers up a group of paintings made mostly of graphite and gesso. Figures in dreamscapes often erotic and even violent are left excruciatingly vulnerable, made from thin lines in chalky white. Lily claims her debts as far reaching: American poet Hart Crane, the early drawings of Hans Bellmer, the poems of Gilbert-Lecomte and the erotic watercolors of Rodin.