Sometimes a sink is just a sink. And sometimes — in the craftsmanship of Robert Gober, at least — it is memories remade and recombined. “I can remember,” Gober once wrote, “a recurring dream of a roomful of sinks, the fact that a friend was dying of AIDS.” Gober’s sculptures grew more theatrical over the years: in scope, with room-size installations, and concept, like the leg with rolled-up black chinos, gray socks, brown shoes, and shadowy leg hair on the strip of exposed skin. This leg sticks out of the blank wall starting mid-calf, like the unacknowledged detail of a surrealistic play. The Heart Is Not a Metaphor follows a loosely chronological path representing the changes in Gober’s career and America during the tumultuous Eighties, when it peaked. To reduce his work to metaphor is an insult to its wry humanism: These works are alive and perhaps even kicking.

Mondays-Sundays, 10:30 a.m. Starts: Oct. 4. Continues through Jan. 18, 2014

This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on October 1, 2014

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