‘Oliver Boberg / 1997-2005’

"Oliver Boberg / 1997-2005"

Lora Reynolds Gallery, through Oct. 7

In some sense, a reviewer's job is to help make the unknown more knowable: to give you enough information that you can see if a work is in line with the mood you are in or fits your tastes, to help reduce the possibility of wasted hours and money on your part. There are things that a reviewer ought to say, might be even bound to say – for example, in reviewing the work of a close friend or relation, the reviewer is obliged to be transparent about her relationship to the artist. Sometimes revealing things about a work can be helpful: If you were hoping to take your 5-year-old to a movie geared toward an older audience, you might appreciate the blatant revelations of sex and violence in a cautionary review. On the other hand, there are things best left unsaid, things that each viewer ought to discover for him- or herself. If you were going to see a thriller, would you want to know all the twists and the ending beforehand? So, before I go any further in this review, I guess I need to know one thing: Are you going to see the current Oliver Boberg retrospective at Lora Reynolds Gallery? If you are or think you might, I don't want to give away the secret. But if you aren't going, I guess I could tell you. Of course, I am dying to tell you. But in spite of that, I'm going to leave it at this: My opinion, take it for what it is, is that the implications of this work by Boberg are outstanding and that this set of photographs is a must-see. Why do I think so? Find me after you've been to Lora Reynolds, and I'll let you know.