Daniel Rich by Miles McEnery Gallery

DANIEL RICH

DANIEL RICH BACK!TO!THE!FUTURE

520 West 21st Street New York NY 10011

tel +1 212 445 0051 www.milesmcenery.com

525 West 22nd Street New York NY 10011

A!NEW!TEMPORAL!UNDERSTANDING By Emily McDermo! Using the window as a metaphor is old news: Painted windows that look onto the world have been wri!en about since the Renaissance. Yet, upon stepping into Daniel Rich’s studio, nestled in Wedding, a northwest neighborhood in Berlin, I was indeed surrounded by paintings that offered windows onto different parts of the world—some figuratively, others much more literally—and my understanding of temporality was temporarily confused. I was at once on the upper levels of a building in Houston viewing a skyscraper across the street; at the Empire State Building’s 86th floor observatory looking down on Midtown Manha!an; in a helicopter, in a small plane, or even on the Acropolis’s hill seeing Athens from above; and si!ing in a nosebleed section of Arthur Ashe Stadium, peering through binoculars at the tennis courts where the U.S. Open takes place. Like photographs by Bernd and Hilla Becher or Andreas Gursky, Rich’s artworks offer clinical, complex architectural views onto the world that are filled with subtleties. Where Rich differs from the Bechers or Gursky, however, is in his painstaking, intricate process of translating found images into paintings. His paintings are so minutely detailed that they might be mistaken for photographs from afar. Here, one might be reminded of Gerhard Richter. Both Rich and Richter mediate on the found image, using it as a propeller for painting. In the 1960s and early ’70s, Richter painted images from newspapers, personal snapshots and aerial views of cities or landscapes; on the canvas, he imitated the photographs’ color pale!es but dissolved iconographic demarcations through blurred strokes. While Rich similarly uses a variety of photographic source material, he then devises his own color schemes and almost exactingly replicates the pictured architectural sites and cityscapes. Moreover, a certain uncanniness befalls Rich’s work, definitively separating him from the Bechers, Gursky, or Richter: the complete lack of the human figure.

Architecture, as it is commonly understood, is designed and implemented to house the human and is itself the manifestation of our constructed realities and temporalities. When looking across the street into another skyscraper or apartment building, there are both darkened and lit rooms with shadows or people mulling about. When peering down over a city from a plane during its ascent, cars zooming down highways are transformed into single-file lines of slowly marching ants. Elements like these can make architecture almost comforting in its functional uniformity, so when such signs of life are missing, the result is in an unsettling subversion that upends and questions what we’ve come to expect of both architectural spaces and the organized linearity of time. In this way, among others, Rich’s painted landmarks—be they instantly recognizable or purely aesthetically remarkable—o#en strike an unse!ling chord, probing viewers to consider what lies beyond the surface.

“I use architecture as a vehicle to talk about history and politics,” Rich explains without hesitation when we meet. Take for example both the large and small versions of City Square at 4am (Palazzo della Civiltá Italiana) (2020), a pair of nearly identical paintings, each portraying the corner of a grandiose building with towering arched windows bathed in variations of midnight blue. Viewed by an unsuspecting visitor and without the title, it appears to be an anonymous, albeit monumental, European building rendered in a soothing, almost meditative, tone. But beneath the surface lie a number of allusions, unearthed by those who take the time to look not once but thrice, and who not only read but also fully register and even analyze the title. Only then does one come to realize the building and city square are part of one of the most exemplary icons of fascist architecture. Rich’s chosen subject ma!er stands within Rome’s Esposizione Universale Roma district, which was planned and initiated in 1935 by Benito Mussolini to host the projected 1942 World’s Fair. Following the cancelation of the Fair in 1941, however, the building stood empty and abandoned for over a decade. In its seemingly ahistorical style, Rich’s work addresses the Palazzo Della Civiltá Italiana’s sociopolitical contexts, which in turn reflect on its temporal trajectories; these two paintings speak to the fact that fascist architecture was meant to stand the test of time, but

also to fascism’s failure and to the unrealized future of what could have been—how urban Italy might appear had the fascist regime not fallen during World War II. Yet Rich doesn’t just reference architectural sites whose roles are already cemented in the historical canon. Ten days a#er I visited his studio, Covid-19 was declared a global pandemic, and shelter-in-place laws were going into effect worldwide. Office buildings and bustling city centers emptied, and architecture of all kinds assumed new functions. Homes became offices and schools; sports complexes became overflow hospitals. Listening to WNYC-Radio online, as he o#en does while working, Rich heard that one such transformation might take place at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, home to Arthur Ashe Stadium as well as an indoor training center with 12 tennis courts. The facility itself is the largest tennis stadium in the world, with 24,000 seats and 90 luxury suites, from which one might imagine company executives having watched Serena Williams defeat Elina Svitolina in the 2019 semifinals. But now, it was suggested that the signature blue and green courts be lined with beds. This reminded Rich of an image he had seen earlier in the outbreak: hundreds of empty white beds lining the floor of the Wuhan Sports Center in China, in preparation for what was to come. From this succession of associated news, thoughts, and images, Rich’s painting Empty Courts, Queens, NY (2020) was born: a close-up view of two blue courts, surrounded by green, and two (empty) viewing platforms. “In a way, it’s a playful image,” Rich says. “It’s a bit fun.” And it is: The painting is stunning, a pristinely executed geometric composition with complementary colors. But beneath the aesthetics is a haunting reminder of the history we are currently living. The painting was made while the world was living in isolation and essential workers were risking their lives on a daily basis, so the tennis court inherently “has this underlying thing,” Rich continues. “It could be an overflow hospital space for victims of the virus.” The Billie Jean King National Tennis Center has become an architectural site of possibility, where its existence in relation to different temporalities leads to polarizing sociopolitical associations; it is a place that at once evokes memories of the communal and the playfully suspenseful events that once were and the terrifying, uncertain future that could be.

Empty Courts, Queens, NY, 2020 Acrylic on dibond 18 1⁄2 x 15 3⁄4 inches 47.5 x 39.5 cm

Gleaning such insight, however, is no easy task. As with City Square at 4 am, fully understanding Empty Courts requires a connection between the imagery, the title, and, in this case, the year it was painted. It is precisely these sociopolitical understandings and complex examinations of time that serve as Rich’s inspiration and motivation. As with the news surrounding Arthur Ashe Stadium, if a story or piece of information he hears on the radio, reads in the papers, or reads in a book strikes him as interesting (a perfectly ambiguous term, for this could be something neutral, positive, negative, or somewhere in between), then he embarks on his own research project. Books are added to his reading list, additional articles are saved online. Throughout this process, he also looks at the accompanying photographs and eventually begins a purely visual search. Once he has found an architectural image that harkens back, in one way or another, to the initial impetus, the creation of the painting begins. Rich enlarges the found photograph to his desired size and projects it onto a panel covered in transparent masking material. He traces the image and then, without the projection, removes temporal markers—people, shadows, cars—and adjusts the composition ever so

slightly to fit his artistic vision. When the preliminary drawing is complete, he retraces the entire outline with a knife so individual pieces of the masking material are freed from each other. He removes them section by section and applies acrylic paint to each area using a special squeegee. This part of his process might sound similar to screen printing—and that’s because it is. Early on in his career, he found inspiration in Robert Rauschenberg, Pop Art more generally, and photography, all of which resulted in many screen-printed works and printmaking projects. When the masking material has all been removed, he finalizes the painting with a small brush, although the stokes can rarely be discerned. In a way, Rich’s multistep process of creation reflects the layered process of viewing and understanding the works. Rich, in what he describes a “very heavily process-oriented practice,” extrapolates subject ma!er from its context and its temporality, deliberately compressing the medium’s message and clinically rendering it with a method derived from screen printing—a technique that is o#en mediating and distributive. But he then reverts to a paintbrush with its strokes, historically the most auratic artistic medium there is. Inversely, viewers begin with an auratic painting without context, save for their personal experiences, and must deliberately seek additional information: a title or text to reinject certain pieces of the previously removed contextual demarcations. In his elimination of such information and the subsequent, subtle reintroduction thereof, Rich encourages the viewer to ruminate on sociopolitical ma!ers and their (bygone) temporalities through an architectural, aesthetic, and intriguingly ambiguous journey.

Emily McDermo" is a Berlin-based writer and editor. She was a Fulbright fellow in 2016–17 and her writing has been published by Frieze, ArtReview, Wallpaper* and New York Magazine, among others.

DANIEL!RICH By Ara H. Merjian Daniel Rich’s reticulated cityscapes and slick façades appear at first glance to be quite literally superficial. Whether it’s a geometric exterior pressed close to the picture plane or a cluster of multiple structures glimpsed from a distance, we experience architecture in his painting as a wholly exteriorized phenomenon— looming close up or made smaller through a bird’s-eye view. In this day and age, a “bird’s-eye view” is just as likely to turn out to be a view from a drone. Certainly, some of the digital images on which Rich bases some of his paintings originate in drone-sourced photography. Yet their significance lies precisely in the glib anonymity of Rich’s imagery. Unruﬄed and unflappable surfaces belie a deeper concern for what the artist has called “failed utopias” and “changing political power structures.” In their seeming permanence, the fixed and rigid edifices that populate his work speak to a late capitalist urbanism that sees its monuments not as contingent, but as immovable and eternal. In the past, Rich’s painting o#en homed in on structures that served as the proverbial backdrop to various political events. One prominent (and haunting) example is the pair of works he completed on the Red Army Faction, commonly referred to as the Baader-Meinhof Gang. With fastidious precision, Zelle (2013) presents an exterior view of the cells at Stammheim Prison, where the group was confined and its members evidently commi!ed suicide on October 18, 1977. Arrest (2013) is modeled on a contemporary real estate photograph of the street in Frankfurt where members of the group were arrested in 1972. Rich has long pursued the representation of architecture and urbanism as a kind of mute witness to historical events. As with various conceptual practices, the structures depicted in Zelle and Arrest take on meaning only with the divulging of their aesthetic premise; that is, once we know what historical phenomena these sites are bound up with, they shake oﬀ their apparent banality and emerge in a proverbial new light. Yet even structures

unbound to specific historical anecdote prove, in Rich’s body of work, to be shot through with ideological and social significance.

Even when Rich brings the viewer near to the exterior of buildings, as in the recent 555 California, San Francisco (2020), 700 Louisiana, Houston (2020), or Tower, Houston (2020), the paintings afford not even the faintest whiff of voyeurism. Painted at a very slight angle, the stepped skyscraper in 700 Louisiana spreads across the entire picture plane, just as the dark pink structure in 555 California (except for two patches of sky at the upper right and upper le#) unfurls vertically in the same manner. In a sense, Rich draws closer to these structures in order to underscore their opacity. The sunlight reflected in the windows of Tower, like those blackened in the other paintings, exacerbate that impenetrability. Not coincidentally, 555 California and 700 Louisiana are both skyscrapers owned (or previously owned) by Bank of America, and they served as its headquarters in the respective cities. “Life’s Be!er When We’re Connected,” proclaims Bank of America’s most prominent marketing slogan. Rich’s paintings ironize that eponymous connectivity. If company members can see out of these structures, we cannot return that gaze. In the years leading up to the 2008 financial crisis, Bank of America peddled various risky credit loans while simultaneously pursuing untenable acquisitions. Thousands of homeowners found themselves underwater or evicted. The structures housing these lending institutions appear almost eerily immaculate, however. The paintings also accrue new meaning—however unwi!ing or involuntary—in the wake of subsequent historical vagaries. In the wake of recent, widespread unrest over the police brutalization of black bodies and a seemingly inveterate racism in America, some protesters have been accused of “looting” private and corporate property. Lacking the spectacle of graffiti or broken glass, the more insidious depredations of predatory lending—o#en aimed squarely at black and Hispanic families—wears an imperturbable façade in Rich’s images. It was, in fact the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) that filed charges against Bank of America in 2017 for these very practices. Rich’s striking painting, Robert C. Weaver Building, Washington D.C. (2019) renders the “HUD building” (as it is known) overlaid by one of the window la!ices from Thomas

Robert C. Weaver Building, Washington, D.C., 2019 Acrylic on dibond 49 x 31 1⁄2 inches 125 x 80 cm

Jefferson’s Monticello. We might think of this superimposition of American Palladian architecture over the building of an exiled German modernist as an allusion to Rich’s own American and German roots. Designed by Marcel Breuer, this brutalist fixture of D.C.’s architecture (made of precast concrete) housed the new agency launched under the Johnson administration in 1965. Raised on concrete pilotis, the building curves on its various sides in a gesture of welcome, though its uniform, deep-set windows evince a coldly bureaucratic air. HUD’s first director and the building’s namesake, the economist Robert C. Weaver, had already served during the New Deal in Franklin D. Roosevelt’s so-called “Black Cabinet”; he reprised that service as part of Lyndon B. Johnson’s drive for a postwar Great Society. The placement of Jefferson’s window design over a partial view of the Weaver building conjures up a number of potential intersecting meanings: Jefferson’s estate as the locus of a deeply fraught American humanism, the haunting of colonialist architecture by the enslaved bodies who erected it, and the persistent urban dispossession of the descendants of those same individuals.

Rich’s interest in “housing and urban development” is hardly a passing curiosity. The origins and consequences of a global, postwar architectural modernism (and postmodernism) and their silent structuring of social and political life form the foundation of his entire aesthetic. A few paintings explore the prehistory of mid- and later twentieth-century housing solutions and architectural utopias/ dystopias. Bearing telltale primary colors on the sides of deep sunken window bays, Unité d’Habitation, Marseille (2019) offers a slice of one of Le Corbusier’s most emblematic “machines for living.” Cast in rough concrete and raised on triangular pilotis, Marseille’s Cité Radieuse (1947–52) anticipated not only Breuer’s Weaver Building, but also the brutalist movement at large. Le Corbusier was himself a deeply complex individual who embraced French fascism early on, while inspiring countless progressive housing solutions by le#ist architects—precisely the kind of paradoxical subject toward which Rich’s brush gravitates. Indeed, his work serves almost as an inventory of various postwar urban and architectural phenomena. To wit, Rich’s interest in Gropiusstadt in the eastern suburbs of Berlin—a project named for a famously progressive architect that provided much needed social housing but that also effectively concentrated poor families in enclaves isolated from the life of the city. The antiseptic ideal of Gropius’s design in Rich’s paintings of the Bauhaus stairwell (2018) suggests the frequent disjuncture between architectural ideals and the messy reality of public practice. Rich has been drawn to the Hansaviertel apartment blocks for similar reasons. This social housing project involving Alvar Aalto, Walter Gropius, and other luminaries near Berlin’s Tiergarten interests Rich not simply in its own right, but for its affinities with certain residential architecture developed in Pyongyang, North Korea—structures designed not merely to incorporate green space per se, but to accommodate the potential ruin entailed in aerial bombings. The dra#ing and execution of Rich’s paintings involves a labor-intensive process resonant with architectural practice itself. Basing much of his imagery on source photographs, Rich prepares a film stencil that is peeled away. The resulting outlines are painstakingly filled in, sealed and smoothed. He uses aluminum composite board—notably the same material o#en employed in billboards (and in high-speed German trains). Cast shadows relieve the unremi!ing flatness of Rich’s imagery,

Carl Grossberg The Paper Machine (Die Papiermaschine), 1934 Oil on wood 35 7⁄16 x 45 11⁄16 inches 90 x 116 cm

whether Unité d’Habitation or 700 Louisiana, lending depth and perspective to the play of geometric planarity. If some of the renderings are entirely flat and plumb with the picture plane (555 California or Nostalgia of the Infinite [2019], for instance), others are cropped and captured at vertiginous angles: The stepped levels of the 700 Louisiana skyscraper exacerbate its slanted perspective. Rich’s work shares a great deal with the works of some other contemporary figurative painters of urban and architectural predilection, perhaps most notably Petra Trenkel, Dean Monogenis, and Marco Petrus. Yet his work has also notably been exhibited in group shows of largely abstract painters, such as Marco Casentini. As much as Rich’s work resonates with contemporary aesthetics, it also echoes aspects of early twentieth century modernism, particularly the licked—and o#en eerily quiescent—paintings of Germany’s Neue Sachlichkeit (New Objectivity) of the 1920s and ’30s. From George Grosz to Carl Grossberg to Franz Radziwill, Neue Sachlichkeit painters concentrated predominantly on the disaﬀections of modern urban life, whether its embodied subjects or, just as frequently, their uninhabited urban abodes. The uniformly illuminated rooftops in an image like Markbreit (1931) by Grossberg (who studied architecture in Aachen and Darmstadt, Germany,

before becoming a painter) anticipates both Rich’s wider cityscapes and the serried tomes of his Amazon series (2017)—yet another image whose crisp precision belies meanings about the unseen individuals who maintain that precision. That Neue Sachlichkeit artists were heavily influenced by Giorgio de Chirico’s socalled metaphysical cityscapes comes as li!le surprise. Nor does Rich’s own oblique allusion to the Italian painter’s work in Nostalgia of the Infinite (Green Window), which features a soaring structure based on the Mole Antonelliana in Turin, Italy. A green framework divided into six quadrants at once interrupts and edges a view of various ascending structures in Rich’s image. The building’s top and ground levels appear neatly framed within the borders of the painting, and the green la!ice suggests the view from another building’s interior. The green strips also call a!ention to the painting’s own architecture—its support as a standing, tectonic object reinforced from behind, something evinced in many of de Chirico’s images of wooden stretcher fragments and lathes, which he painted in Ferrara, Italy, between

1915 and 1918. The specter of metaphysical painting arises even more unnervingly in City Square at 4 a.m. (Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana) (2020)—a building in Rome’s EUR district colloquially dubbed the “square coliseum.” Part of an entire complex built under Mussolini to host a world’s fair in 1942 (never held because of World War II), the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana sits today in what has become a relatively upscale neighborhood. Part of a compromise between rationalist-modernist architects and more conservative traditionalists, the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana proclaims its appeal to Roman glory with a façade of six bays by nine (corresponding to the le!ers in “Benito Mussolini”— the kind of hidden significance that Rich’s paintings, in their understated response to historical ma!ers, evince in turn). Like their Neue Sachlichkeit contemporaries in Germany, Italian fascist architects responded to de Chirico’s strange conflations of cold modernist severity and classical gravitas, exemplified in his repeated use of the stripped-down Roman arch. The electric blue hue of Rich’s painting amplifies the painting’s uncanny sense of human absence, as does the head-on rendering of the building’s corner. As with all of Rich’s images however, what you see is never all of what you get. Since 2015, the building has served—rather polemically—as headquarters for the fashion label Fendi, which sought to dodge the thorny questions a!endant on the structure’s original (and aggressively imperialist) symbolism. Rich does not wade into this controversy explicitly so much as he lets it bathe, however faintly, his image of the building in an even more insidious light. A pendant to this painting might be Rich’s Server (2012), or WTC (Blue) (2016), or even his Empty Courts, Queens, NY (2020): an image that in its own o-and way suggests the glimpse of a very diﬀerent empire in decline.

Ara H. Merjian is a professor of Italian studies and an aﬃliate of the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University.

Tower, Houston, 2020

Acrylic on dibond 78 3â &#x201E;4 x 59 inches 200 x 150 cm

Manha$an, 2019 Acrylic on dibond 39 x 23 5â &#x201E;8 inches 99.1 x 60 cm

Midtown, NYC, 2020 Acrylic on dibond 78 3â &#x201E;4 x 55 inches 200 x 140 cm

99 Park Ave, NYC, 2020

Acrylic on dibond 67 x 44 inches 170 x 112 cm

Houston, 2019 Acrylic on dibond 31 1⁄2 x 23 1⁄2 inches 80 x 60 cm

700 Louisiana, Houston, 2019 Acrylic on dibond 72 1â &#x201E;2 x 55 inches 184.5 x 140 cm

Nostalgia of the Infinite (Green Window), 2019

Acrylic on dibond 61 1⁄2 x 47 1⁄4 inches 156 x 120 cm

City Square at 4 am (Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana, Small Version), 2020

Acrylic on dibond 26 1⁄2 x 21 1⁄4 inches 67 x 54 cm

City Square at 4 am (Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana, Large Version), 2020

Acrylic on dibond 61 1⁄2 x 47 1⁄4 inches 156 x 120 cm

555 California, San Francisco, 2020 Acrylic on dibond 62 1⁄2 x 39 1⁄2 inches 158.8 x 100 cm

Bauhaus (Orange), 2019 Acrylic on dibond 31 1⁄2 x 21 5⁄8 inches 80 x 55 cm

Hong Kong Stairwell, 2019 Acrylic on dibond 23 1⁄2 x 19 1⁄2 inches 60 x 50 cm

UnitĂŠ dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Habitation, Marseille, 2019

Acrylic on dibond 22 x 16 inches 56 x 40.5 cm

DANIEL RICH Born in Ulm, Germany in 1977 Lives and works in Berlin, Germany

2008 “Downburst,” Perry Rubenstein Gallery, New York, NY 2007 “Black Sunday,” SUNDAY, New York, NY “Baghdad,” Mario Diacono Gallery, Boston, MA

EDUCATION 2004 Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture, Skowhegan, ME 2004 MFA, Tu#s University, Medford, MA/School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA

2006 “Torre Velasca,” Mario Diacono Gallery, Boston, MA 2005 “Project Space,” Elizabeth Dee Gallery, New York, NY

GROUP EXHIBITIONS 2001 BFA, Atlanta College of Art, Atlanta, GA

SOLO EXHIBITIONS

2020 Miles McEnery Gallery, New York, NY 2018 “Never Forever,” Peter Blum Gallery, New York, NY 2015 “On a Boat, Looking to Land: Gil Heitor Cortesao & Daniel Rich,” Carbon 12, Dubai, United Arab Emirates 2014 “Systematic Anarchy,” Peter Blum Gallery, New York, NY 2012 “Platforms of Power,” Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA 2010 “Berlin: Daniel Rich and Wieland Speck,” Horton Gallery, New York, NY 2009 “1989–2009: Paintings of the Berlin Airports 20 Years a#er the Fall of the Wall,” Andrew Rafacz Gallery, Chicago, IL

2019 “Mensch in Moll,” Inter Port, Berlin, Germany “Geometric Heat,” GR Gallery, New York, NY “Invisibli,” Anna Marra Contemporanea, Rome, Italy “Set for the Sun” (curated by Jenne Grabowski), Lobe Block, Berlin, Germany “#” (curated by Markus Linnenbrink), Cindy Rucker Gallery, New York, NY 2018 “In My Room: Artists Paint the Interior, 1950-Now,” Fralin Museum of Art at The University of Virginia, Charlo!esville, VA 2017 “A#er the Fall,” Peter Blum Gallery, New York, NY “Urbanopolis,” Galerie LJ, Paris, France 2016 “Postcard from New York,” Anna Marra Contemporanea, Rome, Italy “Summer Group Show,” Joshua Liner Gallery, New York, NY 2014 “Résonance(s),” Maison Particulière, Brussels, Belgium “Epic Fail 2,” Active Space, New York, NY

2013 “October 18, 1977” (curated by Bridget Rathsmann), Gasser Grunert Gallery, New York, NY 2012 “Summer Group Show,” Joshua Liner Gallery, New York, NY “Divergence,” Lower East Side Printshop, New York, NY

2003 “Properties,” The H. Lewis Gallery, Baltimore, MD “CGR Advisors & Dragon Foundation Scholarship Recipients,” Museum of Contemporary Art, Atlanta, GA “Referencing Perspective,” Gallery 100, Atlanta, GA

AWARDS 2011 “LANY” (curated by Mario Diacono), Peter Blum Gallery, New York, NY “Chainle!er,” Golden Parachute, Berlin/Samson Projects, Boston, MA 2009 “Ra!led by the Rush,” Andrew Rafacz Gallery, Chicago, IL “Slow Photography,” Sunday LES, New York, NY “Transitions-Painting at the (other) end of art,” Collezione Maramo!i, Reggio Emilia, Italy 2008 “Supernova,” Art Basel Miami Beach, Miami Beach, FL “A Sorry Kind Of Wisdom,” Perry Rubenstein Gallery, New York, NY 2006 “Material Ma!ers,” Maryland Art Place, Baltimore, MD “We Build the Worlds Inside Our Heads,” Freight + Volume, New York, NY 2005 Elizabeth Dee Gallery, New York, NY “Skowhegan Projects,” Skowhegan State Fair, Skowhegan, ME 2004 “Combined Talent,” Tallahassee Museum of Fine Art, Tallahassee, FL “Summer Distillation,” Miller Block Gallery, Boston, MA “Site Specifics,” ArtSpace, Malden, MA “The Sublime is (still) now” (curated by Joe Wolin), Elizabeth Dee Gallery New York, NY “Axiom,” Gallery 4, Baltimore, MD “Constellations,” Tu#s University, Medford, MA

2017 Print Residency, Lower East Side Printshop, New York, NY 2015 Traveling Scholars Grant, School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA 2012 Painting Fellow, New York Foundation for the Arts, New York, NY 2011 Keyholder Residency Award, Lower East Side Printshop, New York, NY 2010 Marie Walsh Sharpe Art Foundation Space Program, New York, NY Artist in Residence, Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts, Omaha, NE 2004 Full Fellowship, Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture, Skowhegan, ME Travel Grant, School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA 2001 Graduate Fellowship, School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA Ben Shute Scholarship for Excellence in Representational Art, Atlanta College Art, Atlanta, GA Dragon Foundation Scholarship, Atlanta College of Art, Atlanta, GA

Published on the occasion of the exhibition

DANIEL!RICH

BACK!TO!THE!FUTURE 10 September – 10 October 2020 Miles McEnery Gallery 520 West 21st Street New York NY 10011 tel +1 212 445 0051 www.milesmcenery.com Publication © 2020 Miles McEnery Gallery All rights reserved Essay © 2020 Emily McDermo! Essay © 2020 Ara H. Merjian Director of Publications Anastasija Jevtovic, New York, NY Photography by Martin Müller, Berlin, Germany Christopher Burke Studio, New York, NY Color separations by Echelon, Santa Monica, CA Catalogue layout by McCall Associates, New York, NY ISBN: 978-1-949327-33-5 Page 14: Digital Image © The Museum of Modern Art/ Licensed by SCALA / Art Resource, NY Cover: Tower, Houston (detail), 2020