Re-Collecting the Past with Benjamin Freedman's Positive Illusions

Image credit: Benjamin Freedman


text by Karly Quadros

Every morning, I swipe open my phone to check the weather, and there, nestled in the top right of the screen is a little box with one word: memories.

Today, it’s a point five picture of me and two friends lounging in the grass at a music festival (Eliana is a blur, Ashley is caught mid laugh.) Yesterday, it was a picture of my ex from a few years ago welding his motorcycle pipes, sparks flying around his bare torso. My “memories” are clustered, sometimes by vacation (my recent reporting trip to Argentina), sometimes by person (my old roommate Sheila dressed as a table for Halloween), sometimes by arbitrary day (a particularly good estate sale haul followed by a post-tears selfie and a thumbs up.)

Are these my memories?

Canadian artist Benjamin Freedman has been wondering that too. How does technology shape our relationship to the past? It’s something he explores in Positive Illusions, his new photo book – but wait, are they photos? Freedman’s artwork is rooted in the language of photography, but the images themselves are 100% digital, CGI renderings of a 1999 road trip his family took to a coastal cabin in Maine when he was eight. The images are warm and hazy, all telephone wires and glowing TV screens. They’re indebted as much to William Eggleston and Paul Graham as they are to any digital artist. They unfold just like a memory, snapshots of details – ants climbing on a watermelon, bubbles floating in the breeze – all from the slightly shorter, slightly canted perspective of a child taking it all in.

A snapshot of a picnic table covered in toast, eggs, lemons, and a spider.

Image credit: Benjamin Freedman

Some of his memories are quintessentially ‘90s. There’s the time they went to Blockbuster and his parents asked the video store clerk if I Know What You Did Last Summer would be too scary (it was.) There were the hours spent playing boardgames like Monopoly and the Game of Life. And then there were the more universal moments: watching telephone poles and McDonalds arches disappear through the car window on the freeway. Or there was the time he got heat stroke on the Fourth of July and watching the fireworks from the cabin window.

Notably, Freedman actually did have evidence of the trip in a form that those who lived through the era are probably most familiar with: grainy handheld video, home movies-style, that his father, a pharmacist by day, photography enthusiast by night, took. One of his early memories from the trip is trying to grab the camera out of his father’s hands and take photos of his own, one of his earliest memories of wanting to be a photographer. He waited until almost completing the project before he looked back over this footage, lovingly archived in the family home by his mother. As with all memories, there were similarities and slippages: a different kind of car, a different room layout.

“Positive Illusions has become more true than the documentation that my father made in some ways because this is how I remember the past, and how we remember the past is core to who we become,” said Freedman.

The whole project creates the sense of safety and wistfulness that only comes from a child being on the brink of adolescence. But it also paints the pictures of a culture on the brink, the last gasp of the pre-digital world.

Image credit: Benjamin Freedman

As one aesthetic influence, Freedman cites the early-CGI graphics of 90s educational tools, a design style affectionately dubbed “utopian scholastic.” Think edutainment programs like Reading Rainbow or the Eyewitness Book series, all computer-generated models of school supplies like pencils, clocks, notebooks, and rulers, erupting and spiraling around nature like animals, clouds, and oceans. 

“It was born out of optimism around the Internet, it being this utopian space where we can connect,” said Freedman.

In the ‘90s, at the end of history, there was optimism about interactivity and technological capabilities in the Information Age. Our ability to photograph and access those photographs at the swipe of a fingertip revolutionized the act of memory-making, but it also shortened our attention spans and distorted our senses of truth. With the advent of social media, an internal schism had formed – many began to watch themselves from the outside, preparing to capture the perfect photo, the perfect memory before it had even happened. This is the uncanny place that memory occupies in our digital world.

“When working on the project, I was thinking about illusions, simulation, and memories being these spaces that we haunt, that we visit, that have these moving walls. Uncanny memories are uncanny places,” said Freedman.

For Millennials in particular, nostalgia became a major cultural touchstone (“only ‘90s kids will remember”). It also became an aesthetic anchorpoint. In the early years of Instagram, filters made to look like Polaroids and faded Kodak prints proliferated. These days, hope of returning to a pre-digital innocence is long gone, but nostalgia is still more salient than ever. I find myself scrolling through the archives of my Camera Roll with regularity, literally re-collecting the images of my past (or, at least, the ones I’ve managed or chosen to capture, anyways.) Freedman, who was in a long distance relationship at the time he was making Positive Illusions, says that yearning for a time passed subconsciously suffused his work.

“I was a little bit obsessed with nostalgia, the desire to go back in time, to make different decisions, the naive desire to play with the past,” he said.

The title for Freedman’s book comes from the PhD thesis his mother was working on at the time of that fateful 1999 road trip to Maine. (“I’m sentimental,” he joked, “A mama’s boy.) Freedman recalled the sound of her acrylic nails clacking on the keyboard, her face bathed in the glow of the cabin’s personal computer while she worked, sometimes until midnight. Her work was centered around the psychological concept of “positive illusions,” a form of self-deception. People who score highly for positive illusions remember the past more fondly than when it actually occurred. It’s a distortion, yes, but also one that she found leads to more contentment.

“I think I overwrote some memories,” confessed Freedman. “In the process of making [Positive Illusions] I started to fantasize about a childhood that maybe didn’t happen to me.”

So what do we lose in our technologically guided recollections? What do we gain? Freedman said that, as large language models proliferate and AI continues to unsettle the art world, working on the project allowed him to find some kind of happy medium between tech and art. Barreling into this future, we’d all be happier believing that the past is through with us once and for all. But maybe that’s just an illusion too.

Image credit: Benjamin Freedman

Read An Interview Of Robert Wilson On The Occasion Of His Installation During Salone del Mobile →

Michaelangelo was working on the Pietà Rondanini the week that he died. Perhaps eclipsed by his naturalist and expressive Pietà housed at Saint Peter’s Basilica, which is considered one of the great masterworks of the Renaissance, the Pietà Rondanini may seem crude in comparison. Many scholars regard the work as unfinished. And, yes, there is an openness to it—in the roughness of the features, in the ambiguity of the figure cradling Christ, and in the specifically rendered but detached arm that stands beside the sculpture’s primary characters like a sentinel.

The statue, which confounded art critics for many years, was championed by the great modernist sculptor Henry Moore. In his collected writings and letters, Moore noted of the statue, “This is the kind of quality you get in the work of old men who are really great. They can simplify; they can leave out.” At 88-years-old when he sculpted the Pietà Rondanini, Michaelangelo’s sculpture was less of a sermon and more of a prayer: some things need no explanation.

At 83-years-old, Robert Wilson is something of an old master himself, although he has approached his entire career with the confidence of an artist who knows not to carve away more than is needed. Beginning with light and formalist performance schematics, Wilson has staged some of the most renowned avant-garde theater works of the 20th century. From collaborating with minimalist composer Philip Glass on 1976’s marathon opera Einstein on the Beach to directing theatrical masterpieces from Vagner, Brecht, and Beckett, his formalist approach provides structures for audiences to encounter extended stretches of space, time, and silence.

Born in Waco, Texas, Wilson moved to Brooklyn in 1963 to study architecture at Pratt. A day job working with comatose patients at the Goldwater Memorial Hospital on Roosevelt Island sparked an early interest in signs and signals that transcend language, which suffuse all his performances. Wilson has collaborated on theatrical works with Rufus Wainwright, Laurie Anderson, Tom Waits, Lou Reed, Anna Calvi, and William Burroughs.

On April 6, Wilson will kick off the Salone del Mobile.Milano with a new installation at the Castello Sforzeco titled Mother, centered around Michaelangelo’s final and unfinished Pietà. Featuring music based on a medieval prayer arranged by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, Mother will explore the enduring universality of the image and emotion of Michaelangelo’s final work. In the run up to Salone, Autre editor-in-chief Oliver Kupper spoke with Wilson about his early years in New York, his creative process, and the limitations of interpretation. Read more.

Noah Davis and His Painted Lines Between Reality and Fiction

Walk through Noah Davis’s scenes of timeless, raw sentiment at the Barbican

Noah Davis, 1975 (8) 2013 (c) The Estate of Noah Davis Courtesy The Estate of Noah Davis and David Zwirner

text by Maisie McDermid

Paintings make space for imagination in a way photographs almost can, but cannot. This distinction lives between a photograph Noah Davis’s mother, Faith Childs-Davis, took in 1975 of a boy jumping into a crowded pool and a nearly identical painting Davis created in 2013 of the same scene. As both a photographer and a painter, Davis’s eye wandered between the two manifestations of a story. 

Up close, one sees how the people Davis’s mother captured on camera appear above and below the water; while, in Davis’ painting, cyan blue water covers the underwater legs and fluttering arms. One captures truth, and the other captures what can be. 

Noah Davis at work, Los Angeles, 2009, Patrick O'Brien-Smith

Davis (1983 - 2015) began painting in high school from his hometown of Seattle, Washington. While later studying film and conceptual art at Cooper Union in New York (2001 - 2004), Davis began also exploring the unique position of a camera in front of a scene. In 2004, he moved to LA to pursue his own artistic education and began working at the bookshop Art Catalogues. He referenced artists like Caspar David Friedrich, Mark Rothko, Romare Bearden, and Kerry James Marshall as he developed his own sharp talent for merging history with fiction.

In 2012, he and his wife and fellow artist, Karon Davis, co-founded the Underground Museum, a heart-center for the historically Black and Latinx neighborhood of Arlington Heights in Los Angeles. Although the museum — slash studio, slash residency site, slash exhibition space — is temporarily closed, its legacy continues to illuminate Davis’s commitment to his people and the responsibility he felt to capture their beauty. Davis had curated 18 exhibitions by the time of his untimely death in 2015. 

The Barbican’s Noah Davis retrospective — which includes 1975 (8), the photographed and painted boy jumping into water — encourages a close reading. Through its chronological showcasing of over fifty of Davis’s paintings, sculptures, and works on paper, the exhibition communicates Davis’s evolving interests in politics and current affairs, everyday life, ancient Egypt, family history, the racism of the American media, art history, and architecture. His characters, some fiction and some not, tell stories of normal days in communities, but in this normalcy, Davis discovers magic. 

“Noah Davis believed in the power of art to uplift others, and if you spend time with the often surreal and fantastical aspects of his paintings, you will see that he also believed that life — against hardship and violent histories of racism — could also be otherwise,” curator Wells Fray-Smith said. While his paintings of Black communities dancing, resting, swimming, and playing, certainly capture what is; they also capture what can be. 

Opportunities to see Davis’s work have remained rare up until now. The first and only exhibition of Davis’s work in London was in 2021, and there has never been an institutional solo show that showcases the breadth of his work. Today, his work feels all the more timely. “We are living in a world of dehumanization, crisis and upheaval in which there is a drought of love and connection. This exhibition, full of love, hope and humanity, felt like it needed to be now,” Fray-Smith said. As the Barbican emerged from a post-war context with a belief similar to Davis’s — that culture can powerfully transform life — the institution hopes to bring people together through Davis’s art and create challenging and delightful spaces for debate and reflection. 

“Davis’s approach to making exhibitions was often both deeply serious and hilariously funny, choosing combinations of artists and themes that contained lightness but asked profound questions,” Fray-Smith said. The exhibition features loans from public and private international collections, while also extending the retrospective visit to a multidisciplinary program of related events like figure and portrait drawing workshops and a speaker series from Claudia Rankine, Jason Moran, and more. Some notable pieces from the showing include: 40 Acres and a Unicorn, 2007, a painting that references the unrealized order that formerly enslaved families freed during the American Civil War would be given ‘40 acres and a mule,’ and Seventy Works, 2014, a selection of painted collages, which combine images of friends, anonymous figures cut out from magazines, newspaper clippings, and modernist sculptures.

“In Painting for My Dad, as we see a man on the precipice between this world and the next, we also notice that the rocks on which he stands are painted thinly. We can see instances of the canvas underneath washes of veiled paint. It’s the black, starry abyss beyond that has substance, texture, opacity, as if to say that this infinite beyond is the real thing,” Fray-Smith said.  

Noah Davis’s retrospective is a large-scale showing of the many convergences of fiction and reality people experience daily — where the truth lies somewhere in between. 

Noah Davis will be on display at the Barbican until May 11, 2025. Tickets are available on the Barbican website.

A Meier St/ Installation During Frieze Los Angeles 2025

During Frieze Los Angeles 2025, Meier St/, located in one of 52 historic Gregory Ain homes in the Mar Vista Tract built in 1948, showcased a unique group installation by artists Mike Nesbit, Tofer Chin, Mieko Akutsu, Thomas Linder, and Daniel Derro Regen. This house, which is being re-imagined as a dynamic hub for community and creativity, became a platform for unique works that coalesced around the ethos of the home as a work in progress and Los Angeles as a constantly expanding sprawl of expansion. Tofer Chin’s charred black picket fence was a stark reminder of our dark ecological ambitions—it was especially prescient just after two of the most destructive wildfires in Los Angeles history. He said, “[The] work challenges notions of security, exclusion, and resilience in the face of climate change.” Photographs by Taiyo Watanabe

The Los Angeles Confidential: Read Our Interview of Devin Troy Strother →

We caught up with Devin Troy Strother on a sunny afternoon right after a bustling LA art week, where his latest exhibition opening had fans overflowing into the street. We chat a few moments before the debut of his first-ever digital commission, which marks the relaunch of Different Leaf, the trailblazing magazine founded by Michael Kuseck, broadening its horizons from cannabis to a new cultural platform encompassing art, music, and fashion.

Strother reaches an even broader, more diverse audience through Coloured Publishing, his independent press that rolls out artist zines, books, and editions that pop up everywhere, from the Printed Matter Art Book Fair to Undefeated. Strother’s publishing work connects him to a lineage of artists who have explored the book as an art form, including Henri Matisse, whose iconic cut-outs began for his own illustrated book, and Ed Ruscha, whose accordion-like photobook Twentysix Gasoline Stations stretched across galleries at MoMA and LACMA during his recent major retrospective. Or Kandis Williams, whose publishing and educational platform, Cassandra Press, took over an entire floor of the 2022 Whitney Biennial. These artists have utilized the medium to extend their visual narratives, blending text and image in innovative ways that challenge and enrich the viewer’s experience—and make their work more accessible. 

In a way, Coloured Publishing doesn’t just broaden his studio’s creative horizons; it lets him and other artists dive deep into more personal, experimental print work. At the center of his latest exhibition, which was on view at Good Mother Gallery, sits a bright green newsstand bursting with zines and prints, surrounded by Strother’s new paintings—a testament to his commitment to making art communal and accessible.

The return of Different Leaf magazine, with its expanded focus on cannabis, art, music, and fashion, embodies a similar spirit. By commissioning Strother for its relaunch, the magazine not only underscores its commitment to artistic exploration but also celebrates the enduring significance and adaptability of boundary-blurring print projects in the digital era, promoting creativity over commerciality amidst a shifting media landscape.

In our discussion, Strother shares insights into his latest artistic and publishing endeavors, the newly reimagined Different Leaf, and how these efforts interweave to foster a community. Read more.

Suburban Atmospherics: Read Our Interview of Olivia Erlanger →

 

Olivia Erlanger
Prime Meridien, 2024
Aquaresin, aluminum, LEDs, drivers, cord
59 1/2 x 71 x 36 inches
(151.1 x 180.3 x 91.4 cm)
Image Courtesy of Soft Opening, London. Photo: Daniel Terna

 

Multimedia artist and filmmaker Olivia Erlanger is a suburbanist in multiple senses of the word: her oeuvre, a combination of sculpture, scale miniatures and shadow boxes, furnishings, short films, performance, as well as vernacular and technical histories of the home, takes its inspiration from American suburban geographies and the domestic interior that form its primary mise en scène. But Erlanger’s work also explores the world of margins, thresholds, and coulisse implicit in the etymology of the sub-urb—a space that, by definition, is beneath or outside of a physical and discursive center. Hers is a work that often eschews the stabilizing components of characterization, materiality, and setting for what, absent a sturdier, more easily translatable, descriptor, might be called a suburban atmospheric.

But what precisely is a suburban atmospheric? Beyond its seeming interest in combining the milieu of the suburb with a study of speculative environments, the term remains labile and fugitive, as atmosphere tends to be. The topic of suburbanism is itself obscured in a certain kind of epistemic veil, enforced by an enduring urban-centric ambivalence toward its historical or cultural import that says indignantly, “I’d prefer not to.” The suburb has long been the subaltern to its urban hegemon. Equally, the notion of an atmosphere is resistant to any center. It is neither material/spatial nor strictly rhetorical or conceptual, but more like an environmental “mood” accompanying these objects or categories. Peter Sloterdijk, the great thinker of atmosphere, describes it as an affective envelope that shelters self, other and world in various existential interiors. Its ur-space is the home, whether hut or tract house, though the feeling of at-homeness is as much an architecture of familiarity as it is materiality. Atmosphere, however, will always retain some essential mystery or exoticism. Appearing in disguise under designations like “the sensorium,” “the spectral,” “interiority,” “microclimate,” and “the nobject,” it haunts the world of people and objects from its dark purlieus, much like the suburb haunts the city and thrives in the nooks and verges.

Erlanger’s works hover in this same elusive topology with its outré images of possessed housewares, adolescent bedrooms in miniature, deteriorating snow globes, manic realty agents, piscine nymphets, and trompe l’œil terraria. Evoking the sort of Gothic unheimlich that emanates from a landscape of empty cul-de-sacs, dead shopping malls, and vacant ranch ramblers, they play in the interstices of the quotidian and the storybook. The result is a spiritist practice that is simultaneously an “anthropology of the near,” in the words of Marc Augé, and a “space of elsewhere,” in those of Gaston Bachelard. And, perhaps, most of all, Erlanger’s works echo Longfellow’s observation in “Haunted Houses” (1858) that “All houses…/Are haunted houses/…The spirit-world around this world of sense/Floats like an atmosphere…”

On the occasion of Erlanger’s new exhibit, Spinoff, at Luhring Augustine Tribeca, the artist spoke on a variety of topics, including the mysteries of the suburb, the pleasures of the miniature, Last Year at Marienbad and the haunted house genre, Nabokov and the “final girl.” Read more.

Nam June Paik: Rear Window Offers a Posthumous Glimpse into the Mind of a Master

Micki Meng’s gallery viewing encourages viewers to look above, behind, and below Nam June Paik’s allegorical work

Photo credit: Graham Holoch

text by Maisie McDermid

Friends Indeed, a storefront gallery between San Francisco's Chinatown and Financial District, is housing a Nam June Paik dollhouse. Tangled cords drape from the house's backside, with ten miniature, '90s TV sets placed into its windows. The pixelated footage loops four scenes from Alfred Hitchcock's classic Rear Window, teasing visitors into thinking they're glimpsing into private moments inside the plaster-painted dollhouse. 

The sculpture, like the film, is about a stranger peering into private spaces, says curator John Morace. "It becomes a kind of hall of mirrors." 

Paik, widely known as the founder of video art, grew up in Seoul, Korea. From a young age, he studied piano and composition, later moving to Japan where he studied aesthetics at the University of Tokyo with a focus on composer Arnold Schoenberg. After further music history studies at Munich University and a brief return to Tokyo – where he bought his first Sony Portapak and joined the avant-garde art movement, Fluxus – Paik emigrated to the United States where he lived in New York City and eventually died in Miami, Florida in 2006. Although most of his art manifests in digital formats – video sculptures, performances, installations, and television productions – his paintings and drawings also reveal his interests in how humans connect.

Rear Window (Hitchcock Dollhouse) is one among three other Paik pieces – Untitled (small painting with film strip jewelry), Untitled (Toy Robots), and Untitled (Allen Ginsberg) – being showcased at Friends Indeed. Visitors walk through the space opening closet doors and peeking behind black curtains at either one of Paik’s detailed paintings or a laser-generated, neon photograph. The works vary in their approaches to perception and play. All – including the six others available for viewing upon request – are on consignment from the owners and available for sale to other collectors or institutions.

In its voyeuristic slant, Rear Window (Hitchcock Dollhouse) combines questions both Hitchcock and Paik ask of viewers who stare into the “windows” of either a screen or a house. "Rear Window itself is a very interesting film because it is about viewing and viewership – who's viewing whom, and under what circumstances. This is one of the themes that Paik has always worked with – how we communicate and how information is passed between people," said Morace. 

Photo Credit: Graham Holoch

Between Alan Ginsberg's vibrating, laser-generated photograph and the toy robots splattered onto a doodled canvas, Paik made art silly, professionally. He celebrated tasteful fun. 

"What a subtle little thing for him to show us," Morace said, reacting to some inch-sized black brushstrokes at the bottom of Untitled (small painting with film strip jewelry). "You know, he's communicating in his Fluxus way by mixing media that was around him. Paint, jewelry, life, and art are all together in this one tiny piece. Look at those little black birds on the bottom, they are a motif he's used in many works – like flying TVs – and it links beautifully to his entire body of work." 

In other public displays of Rear Window (Hitchcock Dollhouse), curators have concealed the many wires, dials, and plugs spilling from the house. "It's like an octopus of cables with all sorts of different colors and widths, and you're like, oh my god," Morace joked. Paik envisioned the lives of his sculptures beyond their years. "He had this theory that if the technology improved, and his piece was going to be up again, you could move the technology forward. So if it went from cathode ray tubes to LCD screens, you could update it as long as it didn't affect the work's physical manifestation." But Morace and co-curator Mickie Meng, unlike other curators who may have likened the “guts” to a distraction, believe the “guts” are the piece’s purpose. Viewers, therefore, peek into the principal theme of peeking. 

The combination of both video and traditional fine art in Nam June Paik: Rear Window’s collection is what makes the showing of these four works – which have never been displayed together – particularly interesting. Not all of Paik's work buzzes, flashes, and sparks. Some of his most sincere art exists on paper. After suffering from a stroke in 1996, he spent much of his remaining decade in a wheelchair. 

"His dealer at the time, Holly Solomon, visited him in the hospital and brought him paper, crayons, and these oil stick colors to give him something to amuse himself. She was doing it to say, ‘Hey, you are still you, and you can go on,’" said Morace. His drawings draw-up dimensions through his use of layering and pressure shading techniques. Untitled (a small painting with film strip jewelry) features a bedazzled film strip with empty photo slots. Paik used the spaces to fill in his own storyboard: a blank face in one, a smiling face in two, a mysterious face in three, and two faces in the fourth above the word "kiss." Even on canvas, Paik could tell a moving story.

"I hope the work nudges people to think about art in a broader way than is typical of many people today when they're really focused on painting. I encourage people to say, 'Wow, I can get some pleasure, enjoyment, and some satisfaction from seeing this video, these sculptural objects, and these weird hybrid paintings with toys stuck on them,’" said Morace.

Nam June Paik: Rear Window will be on display at Friends Indeed from March 13, 2025 to May 02, 2025.

Borderlands: Read an Interview of Artist Hugo Crosthwaite on the Occasion of His Solo Presentation @ Luis De Jesus Los Angeles

Hugo Crosthwaite, La Linea (The Line), 2024, Acrylic and color pencil on canvas
Courtesy of the artist and Luis de Jesus Los Angeles

Ex-votos are a form of Mexican folk painting, part prayer, part diary, they are a dedication to the saints and a plea for guidance during difficult times. They’re sometimes crude, sometimes polished, sometimes funny, sometimes heartwrenching. Te pido perdon virgencita pues jugue con fuego (I ask you to forgive me, Virgin, because I played with fire) reads one on a painting of a woman with red skin and devil horns beckoning a man in bed while the Virgen de Guadalupe looks on. Another celebrates two luchadors who met in the ring and found love. Another thanks the Santo Niño de Atocha for surviving a late night encounter with two extraterrestrials.


Inspired by his own close encounter with death, Tijuana and San Diego-based artist Hugo Crosthwaite decided to take on the tradition of ex-votos with a new series of large-scale paintings. The show, Ex-voto, is a series of overlapping snapshots of the city of Tijuana, dense narratives of daily life at the border. Just as in the ex-votos, the physical and spiritual world mingle in scenes of border crossings, street vendors, and women at rest. The Tijuana of Crosthwaite’s paintings is not quite the real one and not quite the sin city of the American imagination. Instead, it is multilayered, a place that we tell stories about and are always returning to across the border fence. Read more.

Color Vision: Read Our Interview of Master Printers Guy Stricherz & Irene Malli →

William Eggleston 
Greenwood, Mississippi (red ceiling), 1973

Phillips is set to present Color Vision: Master Prints from Guy Stricherz and Irene Malli, a landmark series of auctions celebrating the unparalleled artistry of the dye transfer process. The first auction, happening on March 18, 2025, will feature the master prints of William Eggleston, including his Los Alamos portfolio and the highly sought-after "Magnificent Seven" large-format dye transfer prints. These works, crafted by Stricherz and Malli at Color Vision Imaging Laboratory, represent the pinnacle of color photography, offering collectors a rare opportunity to acquire the definitive prints from one of the most influential printers of the past four decades. I sat down with Guy and Irene to discuss the rare and fleeting magic of the dye transfer process in anticipation of next Tuesday’s auction at Phillips. Read more.

Georgia Gardner Gray's Chrysalis Reminds Us That Transformation Demands Confrontation

 

Georgia Gardner Gray
Walk-In, 2025
Oil on canvas
75 x 63 inches (190.5 x 160 cm)

 

Georgia Gardner Gray’s exhibition CHRYSALIS, currently on view at Regen Projects in Los Angeles, marks a defining moment in her career as her first large-scale solo presentation in the United States. Expansive in both scope and ambition, the exhibition encompasses new paintings, sculptures, and an original theatrical production, all bound by an intricate exploration of transformation, ritual, and cyclical processes.

At the heart of CHRYSALIS lies the chrysalis itself—a potent emblem of metamorphosis and renewal. Gray draws inspiration from Salvador Dalí’s 1958 pharmaceutical pavilion, a surreal structure that fused art and alchemical symbolism, to probe the nature of ritualistic reenactment, the repetition of history, and the evolving language of artistic expression. Her work reframes transformation not as a singular event but as an ongoing process shaped by cultural, historical, and personal forces.

Gray’s paintings interrogate the paradox of historical reenactment, specifically through the lens of Civil War pageantry. In Belles (2025), figures adorned in antebellum costumes evoke a distorted vision of Scarlett O’Hara, where the romanticization of the past collides with its inescapable weight. Through this juxtaposition, Gray exposes the absurdity of attempting to relive or aestheticize historical trauma, inviting viewers to confront the cyclical nature of cultural mythmaking and the complexities of inherited identity.

The exhibition also engages with contemporary notions of femininity and self-construction. Gray’s depictions of women in transitional spaces—trying on clothes, gazing from windows—resist passive voyeurism. Instead, these figures assert their agency, shaping their own narratives within the liminal spaces of modern life. Here, transformation is not merely biological or historical but psychological and performative, implicating the viewer in the act of perception.

Further deepening the exhibition’s conceptual rigor, Gray presents CHRYSALIS as a theatrical production. Performed by Los Angeles-based actors, the play unfolds as a meditation on modernity’s contradictions, drawing upon archetypal characters and fragmented narratives to interrogate the tension between progress and nostalgia, innovation and repetition.

Through CHRYSALIS, Georgia Gardner Gray’s deft synthesis of painting, sculpture, and performance constructs a multilayered inquiry into the nature of change—whether historical, social, or personal. The exhibition is a powerful reminder that transformation is not an endpoint but an enduring process, one that demands both confrontation and reinvention.


Performance documentation of CHRYSALIS by Georgia Gardner Gray. Regen Projects, Los Angeles. March 1, 2025
Photo: Evan Bedford

Emma Webster "That Thought Might Think" At Petzel Gallery In New York

Emma Webster, The Material World, 2025. Oil on canvas102 x 190 x 2 in259.1 x 482.6 x 5.1 cm. Photo: Marten Elder. Courtesy of the artist and Petzel,New York

Emma Webster's inaugural solo exhibition at Petzel Gallery, "That Thought Might Think," is a mesmerizing journey into expansive, otherworldly landscapes that challenge our perception of reality. On view from March 7 through April 12, 2025, this exhibition showcases Webster's largest works to date, offering viewers an immersive experience. Central to the exhibition are two monumental paintings: "The Material World" and "Era of Eternity." "The Material World" transports viewers to a primordial realm, where lush foliage thrives under an obscured sun, evoking a sense of ancient majesty. In contrast, "Era of Eternity" captures a celestial spectacle—a spiraling sunburst accompanied by a flock of geese soaring over a canyon—eliciting feelings of awe and contemplation. Webster masterfully manipulates light and atmosphere, leaving us pondering whether we are witnessing the dawn of creation or the quietude of an impending dusk.

What sets Webster's work apart is her innovative fusion of traditional painting techniques with modern technology. By integrating virtual reality, hand-drawn sketches, and scans of handcrafted sculptures, she constructs digital dioramas that serve as the foundation for her paintings. This approach not only pays homage to historical artistic tools like the camera obscura but also propels the genre of still life into the contemporary digital age. The resulting landscapes are immersive and uncanny, blurring the lines between the tangible and the virtual, and prompting reflection on our relationship with nature in the Anthropocene era.

The timing of these works is particularly poignant. Created amidst the Los Angeles fires, Webster's paintings resonate with the urgency of ecological crises. She reflects, "It was surreal to make this work while just outside the studio; the orange, smoky sky was raining ash from the fires." Yet, through her art, she celebrates the resilience and complexity of natural systems, inviting viewers to engage with environments that are both familiar and fantastical. "That Thought Might Think" is not just an exhibition; it's an invitation to explore the delicate interplay between reality and artifice, nature and technology. Emma Webster's visionary landscapes beckon us to reconsider our place within the natural world and the digital constructs we inhabit.

Emma Webster, Era of Eternity , 2025 Oil on canvas 108 x 180 x 2 in 274.3 x 457.2 x 5.1 cm. Photo: Marten Elder. Courtesy of the artist and Petzel, New York

The Long Journey Home: Read Our Interview of Composer Sbusiso Shozi and Fondation Cartier Artistic Director Isabelle Gaudefroy →

Picture © Zivanai Matangi

Before judging someone, walk a mile in their shoes.

It’s an age-old adage. Our shoes carry the weight of our daily lives, our stories, our hardships. They represent the wear and tear of our history but also the tenacity and possibilities of new paths forward. 

For writer, composer, and musical director Sbusiso Shozi, shoes are a way to explore the many pathways of the African diaspora. Blending traditional South African musicality, oral tradition, and contemporary instrumentation, he’s mounting a new performance, African Exodus, for the Centre for the Less Good Idea, in collaboration with Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. 

Founded in 2016 in Johannesburg, South Africa, the Centre for the Less Good Idea is an incubator for experimental and cross-disciplinary art. The “less good idea” is the one that is more marginal, more daring and more ripe for invention and discovery. It also has to do with resourcefulness; a Sechuana proverb advises that ‘when a good doctor won’t cure you, find the less good doctor.’ The Centre for the Less Good Idea is the first organization to be hosted in residence by the Fondation Cartier, beginning with a week-long takeover of Fondation Cartier’s performance spaces in Paris in May 2024. African Exodus continues that partnership at the Perelman Performance Center in New York City, running from February 27 to March 2.

Autre editor-in-chief Oliver Kupper sat down with Sbusiso Shozi and Fondation Cartier artistic director Isabelle Gaudefroy to discuss performance and the two organizations’ ongoing partnership. Read more.

Get to the Tate Modern; The World Needs Leigh Bowery’s Unrelenting Fearlessness

For featured artists and collaborators, the retrospective is a “gift from beyond the grave.”

Charles Atlas, Still from Mrs Peanut Visits New York 1999 © Charles Atlas. Courtesy Courtesy of the artist and Luhring Augustine, New York.

text by Maisie McDermid

This spring, the Tate Modern will take on the ambitious role of showcasing the rich life of Leigh Bowery— one of the most bold and original artists of the 20th century. While Bowery was many things to many people –artist, performer, club kid, model, TV personality, fashion designer, and musician— his mission of resisting convention always remained the same. 

In Bowery's short but full life, he challenged norms of aesthetics, sexuality, and gender– and wasn’t subtle about it. His lively self-expressions shocked and stuck with those lucky enough to witness his presence. His otherworldly costumes and makeup always pushed the limits of taste and gender. It’s no wonder he named his notorious club night Taboo. In a first of its kind retrospective, Tate Modern will display not only Bowery's outlandish and dazzling costumes but also other works produced by friends and collaborators including paintings by Lucian Freud, photography by Nick Knight, and films by Charles Atlas and John Maybury. 

Charles Atlas, Still from Because We Must 1989 © Charles Atlas. Courtesy Courtesy of the artist and Luhring Augustine, New York.

The exhibition covers Bowery's arrival in London from Australia in 1980 to his ventures into music with his band, MINTY, near the end of his life in the early ‘90s. Emerging alongside notable figures like Scarlett Cannon, Boy George, and Princess Julia, Bowery had a large impact on London's legendary ‘80s nightlife. Opened in 1985, Taboo was the center of an underground club culture notorious for its hedonism and New Romantic decadence. His dress code for these events: "Dress as though your life depends on it, or don't bother."

Capturing all that Bowery accomplished is no easy feat. "Anyone who has the courage to attempt a show about the work of Leigh Bowery– and within an institution like Tate Modern– deserves all the support we can give them," said Michael Clark, dancer, choreographer, and long-time collaborator of Bowery. However, Clark wonders if they may encounter limitations on what they should display. "Will they show the shawl he painstakingly made for my work in the early ‘90s – a pixelated portrait of Adolf Hitler made from the rags Lucian Freud had used to wipe his brushes clean on? I doubt it. But in situations like this, I try to keep an open mind."

Sofia Vranou, a teaching associate at Queen Mary University of London, penned the first full-length critical exploration of Bowery’s practice in her forthcoming book, Leigh Bowery: Performative Costuming and Living Art. Thirty years after Bowery's death, Vranou believes that his work is more relevant than ever.

Nigel Parry - Photoshoot at home (c) Nigel Parry

"Revisiting Bowery's work is not just about appreciating his artistic innovation but recognizing his legacy as a cultural figure who fought against the very forces that are attempting to reassert rigid definitions of "acceptable" bodies, behaviours, and identities… His commitment to challenging societal norms—whether related to gender, beauty, or traditional roles— can be seen as a sort of resistance that continues to resonate in the face of rising conservatism.”

Visitors will have the opportunity to closely examine his detailed costumes, created in collaboration with Nicola Rainbird, who later became his wife, and corsetier, Mr. Pearl. The bold costumes speak for themselves— a collection of exaggerated shapes, neon patterns, and wildly sewn gems, jewels, and buttons. Photographs by Fergus Greer will demonstrate how Bowery revolutionarily brought these designs to life. Including yet another immersive exhibition attribute, a music and video installation, made especially for the exhibition by filmmaker and resident DJ at Taboo Jeffrey Hinton, will sensually bring viewers into the energetic Taboo scene. 

Leigh Bowery! will also showcase Bowery's boundary-pushing performances. "The role of performer almost certainly gave him the greatest freedom of expression, especially in non-institutional spaces like nightclubs,” said Vranou. “For many years, Bowery was celebrated as a fashion designer. Therefore, I hope the Tate exhibition reestablishes his legacy as a performance artist." 

In 1984, Bowery designed costumes for Michael Clark's dance works, marking the beginning of a long-lasting friendship and collaboration. Within the exhibition, excerpts from Charles Atlas's semi-fictional documentary Hail the New Puritan (1985) and the film Because We Must (1989) represent their unique partnership. Clark himself looks forward to the new life the exhibit will bring to Bowery's works. 

Costume Photography Leigh Bowery Tate Photography

"Leigh's work was made to be seen. I consider the audience to be the ultimate collaborators. The next generation reveals more and more as they are exposed to these existing works in new contexts, spatially and with fresh eyes," said Clark. "So, for the late, great, larger-than-life masterpiece which was Leigh Bowery, this is a most welcome and long overdue gift to us, from Leigh, from beyond the grave."

Leigh Bowery! opens Bowery's life to those curious to explore the complex and creative figure who left a distinct and undeniable mark on contemporary art, club culture, and beyond. 

Bowery’s exhibition will be on display at the Tate Modern from February 27 to August 31, 2025. Tickets are available on the Tate Modern website.

Last Chance to See R.L. Greene: A Black Hobbyist Painter Whose Work Now Hangs at Ventura County’s Government Center

 
 

text by Maisie McDermid

LA-based artist and photographer Rossellini Harris did not find a stained chair or finicky electronics at an estate sale last year; he found nearly 100 original oil paintings by an unknown black artist, Robert Lee Greene. After realizing their cultural importance, he moved quickly to acquire the remaining work from Greene’s family. Paintings that had been growing dust now hang proudly in the Ventura County Government Center, celebrating both Greene’s life and Black History Month. 

Robert Lee Greene (RL Greene) was an Oxnard-based artist who, as a hobby, captured the legacies of historical Black figures in a large series of portraits. The exhibition of his work, “Gallery of Heroes,” commemorates Black cultural innovators, authors, civil rights pioneers, and more. His abstract and landscape paintings, too, accompany the personal commemorations, boldening the exhibition’s cultural heritage sentiments. The show features private collection pieces and represents the first public display of his artwork in decades.

 
 

Born in Charlotte, N.C., Greene served in both the Korean War (1953) and Vietnam War (1963) before ending up in Ventura County for over five decades. He earned a B.S. in psychology and behavioral science from La Verne College and an M.S. in sociology and psychology from the University of La Verne. In addition to his paintings, Greene was a published poet, religious educator, and humanitarian, dedicating his life to community service and personal spiritual development. Ventura County seeks to recognize Greene’s many community-oriented contributions. 

The Ventura County Arts Council invited Harris to display Greene’s paintings in their Hall of Administration. The large building accommodates the entirety of the work. “Gallery of Heroes” primarily displays Greene’s many portraits of Black legends— James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, and Matthew Henson, to name a few. Collectively, the art stimulates a power that has also spread on social media. 

 
 

Accompanying their public viewing, Harris has also creatively showcased individual compositions from the collection on his Instagram. As videos zoom into small details of Greene’s paintings– Angelou’s charm necklace or Baldwin’s grin– Harris’ voice and the voices of special guests share insights on the pieces and their subjects. Here, too, Harris shares notes on the exhibition. 

In one video, he tells how Greene’s son arrived at the exhibition with one more of Greene’s paintings tucked under his arm– an extraordinary portrait of Malcolm X. Harris had been aware of its existence, but he thought someone else had bought it at the estate sale. Now, it hangs amongst the other acclaimed portraits. In another video, Harris showcases vibrant posters for the exhibition, available for purchase through his Instagram, with all proceeds going to Black families impacted by the wildfires in the historic Black neighborhood of Altadena.

Amidst the current political climate, the celebration of R.L. Greene’s work feels all the more significant. This show may be the last of its kind in a government building for a while, as Black History Month and DEI initiatives and programs remain under threat. On Instagram, Harris expresses his many hopes that people visit and experience the golden eye of R.L. Greene. “DM me. If I’m available, I’ll give you a private tour!”

R.L’s Greene work will be displayed at the Atrium Gallery of the Ventura County Government Center through February 28, 2025. Monday – Friday, 8:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m. 

Lisa Yuskavage Looks Back

text by Karly Quadros

It’s no secret Lisa Yuskavage has a bit of a fetish. If not a sexual one then certainly an artistic one. She’s best known for her paintings inspired by hippie dippie Penthouse porn featuring buxom white girls licking lollipops and lounging around in nothing but beaded panties and rainbow striped socks. For a long time, these girls occupied imaginary spaces like wild fields and technicolor dreamscapes, fantasy worlds where the body bounces and drips and nipples are always pointed to the heavens. But her latest show, 21 new large and small scale paintings on display now at David Zwirner in Los Angeles, has a new preoccupation: the artist’s studio.

The exhibition was inspired by, in part, an ongoing effort to archive every painting in Yuskavage’s more than forty year career. With the help of a few Zoomer assistants, Yuskavage has meticulously catalogued and cross referenced her paintings on her website, tagged with an exhaustive taxonomy of recurring motifs. Gallerist David Zwirner, moderating the artist’s talk back in the absence of curator Helen Molesworth, spoke about what initially drew him to Yuskavage’s paintings. “The work was always complicated,” he said. “The work always looked back at you.” Now Yuskavage is looking back at the work.

There is a looming reflexivity to the show. Consider Painter Painting (2024), in which the artist portrays herself clothed in a white lab coat at work in a studio bathed in the warm glow of a red light district. She’s dwarfed by her creation, a large-scale grisaille based on a 1995 black-and-white photograph that Yuskavage took of her sculpture titled “The Motherfucker” (today, the photograph lives in the MoMA.) The artist from the painting works from a reference photo taped to the wall while the original “Motherfucker” sculpture is tucked in the corner on a pedestal. In the studio, mediums and ideas echo and reflect off of each other, unbound by time.

Yuskavage is a contrarian at heart, and the real-life paintings referenced in the exhibition are often her most controversial. In the Company of Models (2024) features the artist’s iconic Rorschach Blot (1995), a rendering of a rubbery and gaping sex doll, leaning against a wall in a stack of canvases. Other paintings in the fictional artist studio feature the artist’s ‘Nel’zeh’ motif, little peasant women most prominently featured in the artist’s output in the 2010s, looking on disapprovingly like so many puritanical critics. 

The previous paintings hidden in the new ones are often rendered in the thin lemony-yellow of a cadmium underpainting, the technique that gives Yuskavage’s paintings their distinctive candy-tinged glow. This layering, technically and thematically, animates the show. Expect Yuskavage’s many hallmarks – juicy color palates, rotund bellies, and perky breasts – but these are not her usual subjects. Instead, they’re models, memories, recurring ideas unearthed from the clutter, like a painting tenderly pulled from a stack in the attic.

In 2025, the shock of Yuskavage’s pliant sex kittens isn’t what it was in the mid-90s when she last exhibited in Los Angeles. After all, OnlyFans has gone mainstream and some contemporary fashion editorials make Penthouse seem all but quaint. Instead of a sexual guilelessness as her subject, Yuskavage has returned to a creative innocence: the artist in her studio, the student at her easel, and the model on her pedestal. For Yuskavage, the creative act is like a well-loved sexual fantasy – it’s a well she can return to again and again.

Lisa Yuskavage is on display through April 21 at David Zwirner in Los Angeles.

Jeremy Scott and Katherine Bernhardt's exhibition brings Pop, Play and Pure exuberance to Kansas City

 
 

text by Poppy Baring

“It’s F-U-N—that’s it, that’s all it is”

These are the words rapper A$AP Rocky once used to describe fashion designer Jeremy Scott. This sentiment naturally extends to contemporary artist Katherine Bernhardt’s work, but are these artist’s works merely playful or do they carry greater significance? In their new exhibition “A Match Made in Heaven,” Scott’s designs are partnered with their Bernhardt equivalent, producing a maximalist fun-filled world full of exuberant color and pop culture references. Although the pair were both born in Missouri in 1975, they met for the first time in November 2023 when the Executive Director of the Nerman Museum of Contemporary Art, JoAnne Northrup, noticed their commonalities. This exhibition, taking place in Overland Park, Kansas near where both of these artists grew up, is the first to explore the shared references in Scott and Bernhardt's work. 

Thirty-five of Bernhardt's energetic paintings are punctuated by one hundred of Scott’s looks from his archive, including those made under his namesake brand and those designed during his time at Moschino. The use of consumer and popular culture symbols in these works act as vessels for the artist's shared sense of irreverent humor which leaves audiences questioning whether they are examples of sophisticated satire or just dramatic up-endings of today’s cultural standards. For Bernhardt, the use of iconic symbols like McDonald’s golden arches, the Pink Panther, cigarettes and Doritos simply comes down to their shape and color. They allow her to fill canvases with combinations of these shapes making infinite paintings that all feel like a complete thought made in a stream of riotous consciousness. Starting with spray paint, Bernhardt first outlines her composition before taking her canvas to the floor where she uses watered-down acrylics to freely cover her characters and shapes; creating vibrant patterns. 

Jeremy Scotts has also been known to avoid over-complication. Often letting emotion guide his practice, it is not that his work is anti-intellectual but that ‘rational’ is not part of his creative vocabulary. Whether Scott’s work has loftier inspirations than Coca-Cola, for example, or not, his success in the fashion industry is undeniable. So much so that his work is now weaved into many celebrity moments including Britney Spears's “Toxic” music video and the video for Lady Gaga’s song “Paparazzi;” showing that his love for pop culture is very much mutual.

Both Scott’s and Bernhardt’s works are also inspired and reflective of their environments. In Bernhardt’s case, she grew up in a home filled with color and throughout her career, having completed residencies across the globe, has picked up imagery from her vicinity. The use of coffee and cigarettes in her work, for example, is heavily influenced by the New York delis that surround her where she currently lives and works. In terms of Jeremy Scott’s designs, his fanboy take on pop culture seemed increasingly spot-on as social media exploded. So while they may both be fully immersed in an unapologetically vibrant world, inspired by nostalgic Americana, Scott and Bernhardt’s work can tell us a lot about our current climate while also providing a much-needed escape.

A Match Made in Heaven is open through August 3 at the Nerman Museum of Contemporary Art in Overland Park, Kansas. 

Fuck Art Let's Dance: Read Our Interview of the Iconic Colette Lumiere →

Fuck art, let’s dance.

It’s the attitude that Colette Lumiere had become known for, immortalized in a mural that she painted on the wall of iconic ’70s downtown New York nightclub and art scene haunt Danceteria. She’s celebrated for her bold personas and expansive multimedia projects from street art to installations to fashion collaborations, yet her later evolutions have received less attention. A new show at Company Gallery, Everything She Touches Turns to Gold, running until March 1, explores the artist’s career in the ’80s as she ventured off to Berlin under the guise of a new persona, the mysterious Mata Hari and the Stolen Potatoes.

Lumiere always had a surprisingly contemporary attitude toward blurring the boundaries between the public and the private, between art and commerce. She began by painting cryptic sigils on the SoHo pavement at night and has shown art everywhere from the MoMA to Fiorucci shop windows to German nunneries to nightclubs. Her longest running piece was a 24/7 installation in her own apartment, stuffed from floor to ceiling with champagne and blush-ruched fabrics, a polymorphous punk rock Versailles. Lumiere took that louche crinkling of fabric from her Living Environment and translated it into harlequin frocks that she wore like a uniform. Her influence reverberates widely from Vivienne Westwood and Madonna’s ragged, spunky takes on period clothing to the elaborately staged personas of Cindy Sherman and Nadia Lee Cohen.

Growing frustrated with the limitations put on a young female artist, in 1978 Lumiere staged her own death in a performance at the Whitney Museum. She emerged a few days later at PS1 Contemporary Art Center, beginning an ongoing dynasty of artistic personas and eras. Everything She Touches Turns to Gold features the artist’s under-celebrated paintings, mostly from the early ’80s, “metaphysical portraits” exploring herself, her friends, and the subconscious. While her ’70s works recall historical reclining nudes including staged photos and durational performances in which she napped in poses modeled after classical paintings such as Manet’s Olympia. Her Berlin period, instead, foregrounded motion. The figures in her portraits wave. They evade. They drift and dream and run away.

I recently met up with Lumiere at Company Gallery to explore the new collection. Now in her  seventies, Lumiere is as true to herself as ever in a ruffled white blouse beneath a hot pink Victorian riding coat. Tunisian-born and French-raised, her accent is caught somewhere between her native French and a dry German lilt. We spoke about Berlin before the wall came down, resisting categorization, and, of course, potatoes. Read more.

Fierce Cuts: Linder’s Timely Retrospective

Linder, The Sphinx, 2021. Photomontage. 35.5 x 34.5 cm. 14 x 13 5/8 ins. © Linder. Courtesy the artist & Modern Art, London.

text by Poppy Baring

Arriving at a time when women's rights are being increasingly called into question, Danger Came Smiling takes London through Linder Sterling's eminent fifty-year-long career for the very first time. Exhibiting her iconic photomontages as well as her more recent unseen works, the Hayward Gallery underscores the enduring relevance of her feminist art, while showcasing the vibrancy and variety in Linder’s practice.

Often aiming to make viewers interrogate stereotypical gender narratives, Linder uses scissors and scalpels to liberate images that were often produced to perpetuate traditional gender roles. The use of sexualized and commercialized images of the female body, contrasted against clippings of seemingly banal bourgeois household objects manufactures a playful mockery that is characteristic of Linder’s style. By repurposing these found images to tell a radically different, less restrictive narrative, she restores agency on the page and across prints thanks to the ‘violent power of the cut.’ These anarchic collisions powerfully highlight the similarity in pressures felt by women today and those felt when the works were first created; inviting viewers to question the then and now.

Installation view of Linder: Danger Came Smiling. She/She, (1981). Photo: Mark Blower. Courtesy the artist and the Hayward Gallery.

Born in Liverpool in 1954, Sterling was part of the 1970s punk scene and created art and music alongside some of the most famous British voices of that period. In the 1980s, she formed the band Ludus and performed at nightclubs such as Manchester's famous Hacienda. One of the most remembered aspects of this performance was Linder's choice of costume, where her 'meat dress', which came 20 years prior to Lady Gaga’s similar unexpected look, and black dildo commented on the heavily macho culture of the venue at the time. This same spirit can be found in all of Linder's subsequent work and is arguably what has led her to be viewed as a truly unrelenting and rabble- rousing British art hero.

This exhibition includes a photomontage reminiscent of one of her most famous works, the cover art for the single “Orgasm Addict” made for the punk band, the Buzzcocks in 1977. This work shows a woman’s naked body covered in oil with an iron as a head and perfect smiles placed strategically on her breasts. While this, along with Sterling’s other early works, relied on found images from local magazines and newspapers, her post-2006 montages matured in imagery. In the ’70s, she sourced material from men's pornographic magazines and women's homeware catalogues, later expanding to more diverse sources, creating richer juxtapositions.

Throughout the years, Linder’s process has evolved but she has continued to investigate the shifting trends in lifestyles, sex, domesticity, and fashion that propel feminist conversations and inspire necessary rebellion.

Danger Came Smiling opens today and is on view through May 5 at the Hayward Gallery,  London.

 

Linder Untitled, 1976. Tate, purchased 2007. © Linder. Photo: Tate.

 

Ellen Carpenter's “Hair Care:” Devotion and Responsibility in the Hands of a Caretaker

Lovingly, in a starch white nightgown, Ellen Carpenter tended to a wooden chair dressed with synthetic hair in her two-hour-long performance at John Street Gallery

text and photos by Maisie McDermid

Minutes before Ellen Carpenter's 2-hour-long performance of "Hair Care" began, Chair II sat below a spotlight at the end of a white hallway doubling as a staircase. The levels leading down to the curious furniture piece showcased twenty other art pieces contributing to John Street Gallery's latest collection, "Misery's Child" – a black rubber-coated rocking horse, an oil painting of two swans on a lake, and various stoneware pieces. But Chair II, the result of 40 hours of tedious sewing, stood proudly, awaiting Carpenter's adoring hands.

"I know the chairs very intimately," Brooklyn-based multimedia artist Carpenter said, describing the many hours spent at the legs of these chairs sewing. While joining individual locks of synthetic hair onto polyester stretch fabric, she tended to the chair in front of an intimate group of viewers seated amongst the gallery steps on the show's February 6 performance. Dark skies outside contrasted sharply with the white, fluorescent lights illuminating Carpenter's acts of devotion: combing, shampooing, conditioning, blow drying, and braiding the hanging hair. 

Carpenter's cleansing and styling of Chair II contributes to a two-part performance: "Hair Care" and "Ruining My Life In Public." Both explore emotional extremes that occur within Carpenter's body and domestic space. One inhabits devotion and tenderness, while the other exposes rage and violence. The idea for "Hair Care" came to Carpenter while untangling, brushing, and braiding Chair I's hair before routinely putting it into storage. "It's a laborious process that often feels simultaneously thankless and required of me. After a while, I felt like this labor was a piece in and of itself," she said. 

Carpenter had not performed "Hair Care" live before this evening (her first performance of “Hair Care” was virtual.). "I think I practice the performance every time I take a shower," she said, laughing. Carpenter, either kneeling or seated with her legs crossed, catered to individual sections of Chair II's hair at a time, not one strand going unnoticed. The chair took several different forms: straightened after brushing, droopy after sponging, fluffy after blow drying, and twisted after braiding. Carpenter's hands matched a rhythm, not of sound, but of obsession. Carpenter, at times, appeared under a spell, surprising even herself when the chair called for a new demand. 

Carpenter fetched water from outside the tall, cloudy glass door beside her leading into a hidden portion of the gallery. The sounds from behind the door, amongst no other, provoked a confronting familiarity. The door's hinges sounded like ones from one's own home, and the dumping and refilling of water buckets reminded one of their own bathroom sink. "I loved the idea of ‘fetching water’ in service of the chair, especially since I could incorporate the use of opening and closing the gallery door as if it was my own apartment… Leaving the room also helped me incorporate short visual pauses into the piece without impeding my actual progress."

Her departures from the chair were brief but felt much longer. As the chair began to assume characteristics of both power and powerlessness, the absence of Carpenter created a feeling of uneasiness. Viewers wondered what would happen if Carpenter left and never returned, therefore leaving Chair II in a permanent state of incompletion. Carpenter's dependence on Chair II (the need to care for another) and Chair II's dependence on Carpenter (inherently incapable itself) oscillated throughout the performance – their interdependence the central theme. 

Carpenter's work pecked and pulled at living contradictions. "In 'Hair Care,' I inhabit the role of a caretaker in service to something outside myself, but in 'Ruining My Life in Public,' I inhabit the role of antagonizer or perpetrator of violence, and both roles are equally possible, equally true of almost anyone," she added. As much as Carpenter displayed relaxation and intention, she also exuded exhaustion and fatigue. When Carpenter stood to grab a hairbrush or rubber band, she stretched her back and wiped her bangs to the side of her face. Every now and then, a sigh slipped from her focused composure. Beyond devotion, this piece is about the heavy undertones of responsibility. 

For Carpenter, this, too, is a piece about agency. "Something about enacting performance with my body, with my full agency, is really powerful to me." As a multimedia artist, performance art is only one of her several other forms of expression. Notably, it is one she exercises the least. Nonetheless, she owns it, literally. "I can't be separated from the piece; in fact, the piece doesn't exist if I'm not there to perform it. That lack of separation feels like shouting 'I claim this thing!!' to everyone watching."

“Hair Care” is part of a group show titled, “Misery’s Child.” Ellen Carpenter’s live performance took place on February 6th, 2025. Chair II and the twenty other contributions are on display at John Street Gallery through February 12th, 2025.

Zoe Chait's 'What Dream' Is An Exploration Of Grief and Loss @ Micki Meng In Paris

 

Zoe Chait
cheeky, 2019
Archival pigment print
23 x 17 x 1 1/2 inches
Edition 1 of 3 + 2AP

 

Grief is unpredictable. It doesn’t follow a pattern, but it often brings us back to the same memories, searching for answers or comfort. We turn to photos, notes, and objects, trying to find meaning in them. Over time, both our perspective and the materials change.

Zoe Chait’s exhibition, What dream, revisits images first shown at Ramiken, New York, in 2021. These thirteen works document Chait’s relationship with music producer Sophie, capturing moments from 2017 to 2020 as Sophie transitioned from a private individual to the public figure SOPHIE. While the photos are intimate, they also highlight a sense of distance—the gap between personal connection and public persona. Chait’s work reflects an effort to reconcile the Sophie she knew with the one the world saw.

Sophie died in an accidental fall on January 30, 2021, six months before the exhibition opened. Nearly four years later, Chait revisited these images, altering them in response to her grief. She worked with printed positives and negatives, abstracting the images to explore themes of presence and absence. Sophie’s influence—her rituals, worldview, and music’s distinctive texture—continues to shape these works, which remain both unfinished and complete.

In Mexico City, Chait collaborated with a master printer of photogravure, a 19th-century printing process using etched copper plates and a gelatin resist. Chait was drawn to the unetched plates, mid-process, where the gelatin resist formed ghostly images on the copper. What dream features two pairs of such works, each showing a positive and negative version of the same image. The exhibition’s title comes from the first, a still from a video shoot where Sophie appears poised under dramatic lighting. The second image shows Sophie lying nude on a bed, open and serene. These works are material and painterly, presenting images that feel incomplete and vulnerable to time.

Chait also reimagined her video installation, projection reflected (2017–2020). Projected onto aluminum panels with varied grain alignments, the videos capture intimate moments between the artist, Sophie, and the camera. One video shows Sophie adjusting her hair before a shoot, focusing on her public image. Another captures Chait gently moving Sophie’s chin in soft afternoon light. Ambient sounds—breathing, pauses, background noise—create a sense of continuity. The videos loop at different lengths, offering endless opportunities to revisit and reinterpret these moments.

What dream is on view through February 20 by appointment only @ Micki Meng 2 Rue Beaubourg Paris 4e