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Max Roemer shows a score of creatures: Four monkeys, six dogs and ten hogs. And a tree with fifty feet. There are monkeys as monks in buddha poses eating ice cream and spinning basketballs. His work exudes joy and invites us to pause for double takes.  His art is pure play; nothing less. He plays with materials, symbols and art references, from Giacometti’s scrawny lines to Jeff Koons’ rotound gluttony. His creatures and creations beam with the many joys of double takes: Taking what is already there is both a shortcut to shapes and the shortest path from the whimsical to wisdom. He finds objects like poets find words and puns. Were his sculptures poems some might be Haiku, images found in nature with a twist; others might be parables of a simpler life. ​ The work is deceptively spontaneous yet deeply intentional. The artistic principle of “no ideas but in things” is turned into “all things are ideas.” It is a magical transformation, an alchemy of assemblage.  He makes art because it makes him whistle. And he likes to show his work because it makes people smile. And this smile he takes serious. Nothing is more subversive than humor.

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