You walk into Nine Gallery and see no show title, no artwork titles, not even a sign announcing who the artist is. The works on the wall are too bad to be good but too good to be bad: sophomoric abstract paintings that are painfully self-aware in their amateur chic. Whoever painted them has ambitions that exceed their grasp. A phone call to the gallery director turns up the answer to some questions. The artist is Jesse Hayward, who, in a precious, “Look at me—no, don't!” move, placed his name so low down on the door jamb that gallerygoers would not see it. Likewise, according to the director, Hayward left an explanatory brochure about the show “in an unassuming spot” so unassuming that viewers could not find it. It sort of makes sense that any artist who would throw together a show this mediocre would not want to be that closely associated with it. Closes Feb. 3.
122 NW 8th Ave.