Edelman Arts is delighted to extend its current exhibition, "Scott Covert: The Dead Supreme," through September 5, 2011. The exhibit is Covert's first comprehensive solo exhibition of works created from 1996 to 2012.

Recent press has confirmed the public's enthusiasm - Time Out New York just named "Scott Covert: The Dead Supreme" as the top Critics' Pick in best shows for the week of August 9-15, 2012:   

Another highlight includes a review of Scott Covert's exhibition in Shore Magazine on Monday, August 13, excerpted below:  

The crowd last month at Edelman Arts in Manhattan was lively and enthralled. Gathering to see "The Dead Supreme," the exhibition of New Buffalo native Scott Covert's gravestone rubbings, the crowd discovered there was something for everyone: color, celebrity, mystery-even glitter!

Color is the first thing you notice in the canvases. The vivid colors strike you even from outside the gallery. It was fascinating to watch several people (who had clearly not come out intending to visit the gallery) be unexpectedly charmed as they passed by the gallery windows and then went inside for a better look. I'd bet it was the color that attracted them.

On closer examination comes the celebrity: names of the famous dead from popular and high culture, mostly from the past few generations. It's soon apparent, however, that Covert is not just reveling in celebrity. Some of his subjects, like Indiana's own desperado John Dillinger, we probably don't want to celebrate anyway. Covert is creating a visual experience instead. The fact that many of the names, dates, and epitaphs require the viewer to work at deciphering them is important in this regard. With layer upon layer of color and names built up over many sections of the canvases, we discern traces of the effort that was put into creating the images. And we understand that the works are not mere recordings but are suggestive offerings to the viewer.

Covert's art, then, is a humanist art. It made me think, for a moment anyway, about that rush of life, its fleeting presence, its greatness. One of the epitaphs Covert captured-from Don Knotts' gravestone-is apt: "He saw the poignancy in people's pride and pain and turned it into something hilarious and endearing."

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