SLATER BRADLEY ROSE TO PROMINENCE seven years ago as part of Team Gallery’s stable of New York-based twenty-somethings who collectively gave Pop art a dark twenty-first-century makeover. Alongside Banks Violette’s black-metal-inspired minimalism, Cory Arcangel’s vintage electronics and Ryan McGinley’s scenester snaps, Bradley’s referentiality-adroit work felt, at least superficially, at home. There was his video The Laurel Tree (Beach) (2000), in which Chloë Sevigny delivers a screed on dilettanism from Thomas Mann’s Tonio Kröger (1903) over the soundtrack of Godard’s Le Mépris (1963), and then The Doppelganger Trilogy (2002–4), Bradley’s suite of constructed ‘lost’ performance footage of Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain and Michael Jackson, all played by Benjamin Brock, who equally resembles Bradley. After befriending the artist in the late 1990s, Brock went on to become his perennial onscreen alter ego, dramatising Bradley’s negotiations with the cultural field in a way that felt dead-on to anyone who ever experienced the pull of fandom, or yearned to be someone else. When the trilogy was purchased by the Guggenheim and exhibited in its New York museum in 2005, Bradley became the artworld equivalent of his musical icons.