• Gavin Fahey
  • Priority Mail 2023
  • Devotional Objects 2021-22
  • American Myth 2021
  • Suburbs 2021
  • Consumption 2021
  • Political Signs 2021
  • Tabloids 2020
  • Trompe L'oeil 2019-20
  • Press/Interviews
  • About/CV/Contact
Gavin Fahey
Priority Mail 2023
Devotional Objects 2021-22
American Myth 2021
Suburbs 2021
Consumption 2021
Political Signs 2021
Tabloids 2020
Trompe L'oeil 2019-20
About/CV/Contact
Press/Interviews

These pieces represent a myopic suburban self-absorption in which any sense of the communal is discarded.  What is left is an alienating world where your home is your castle and outsiders are treated with suspicion.  Freshly Cut Grass is a physical metaphor for this pervasive individualist mindset: a white washed window framing a perception of reality which is incapable of seeing beyond the well-manicured lawn outside. 


Stop Emailing my Wife and Property Line represent an imagined future in which the rising floodwaters of climate change have reached the suburbs.  Even in this moment of assured annihilation, the suburbs cannot let go of their petty paranoias.  One resident, having retreated to his rooftop, cannot shake the feeling he is being digitally cuckolded.  Rather than cry for help, he instead implores his neighbors to stop emailing his wife.  Nearby, another homeowner floats past on the remnants of their living room floor, desperate to cling onto the last vestige of middle-class personhood: their property line. 

Freshly Cut Grass (2021), Oil, latex paint, panel, pressure-treated wood, and cordless blinds, 39" x 35"

These pieces represent a myopic suburban self-absorption in which any sense of the communal is discarded.  What is left is an alienating world where your home is your castle and outsiders are treated with suspicion.  Freshly Cut Grass is a physical metaphor for this pervasive individualist mindset: a white washed window framing a perception of reality which is incapable of seeing beyond the well-manicured lawn outside. 


Stop Emailing my Wife and Property Line represent an imagined future in which the rising floodwaters of climate change have reached the suburbs.  Even in this moment of assured annihilation, the suburbs cannot let go of their petty paranoias.  One resident, having retreated to his rooftop, cannot shake the feeling he is being digitally cuckolded.  Rather than cry for help, he instead implores his neighbors to stop emailing his wife.  Nearby, another homeowner floats past on the remnants of their living room floor, desperate to cling onto the last vestige of middle-class personhood: their property line. 

Freshly Cut Grass (2021), Oil, latex paint, panel, pressure-treated wood, and cordless blinds, 39" x 35"