EVIL RAT / LIVE ART / EVIL ART / LIVE RAT
Anders Dickson, Ian Miyamura, and Olivia Reavey
May 16–June 14, 2026
New York, New York
In 2026 it is said the rat supremacy in New York has ended. Poison has worked. Birth control has worked. Is the sign of fewer rats a sign of prosperity? A sign of an anesthetized environment, a cleaner society, a richer civilization—one without the melodrama of vermin sociality?
Does the rat need to be summoned back? Does art need to be live? Does art need to be evil? Does the rat need to be evil? Does the evil rat live an evil life? Does art live as an evil rat?
Starting from scratch and by scratching, the live artist keeps a toy close: a rat. To the artist’s surprise, the rat is a god pulling strings that connect their marionette body. In Ratatouille, the rat, Remy, sits atop Alfredo’s head, tugging strings on instinct and whispering his ideas into form. The artist is the proxy, and the rat makes meaning, guiding their limbs into action.
The evil rat exists in a shadow world that acknowledges life as an impoverished form. In the artist’s studio, detritus collects in abundance. Art is the excess that makes us trip up when we speak, when Remy pulls too hard. Art is the broken open wound, the unhealed schism. We see a tail disappear into the wall, and through here, an expanse is almost in sight.
