Ruckus

“These different points of access, the multiple ways of engaging with the space and work, and the physical function of the design of the show intentionally required a change in how I process space and my awareness of other bodies within that space. This beautiful shift that the exhibition opened up should not just be a learning opportunity for myself, but also for others building exhibitions.”

At the link in our bio, read Christina Nafziger’s () review of “Don’t mind if I do,” co-organized by Finnegan Shannon () at the Museum of Contemporary Art () in Cleveland, Ohio.

Images:

Images 1-3: Don’t mind if I do installation view at moCa Cleveland, 2023.

Image 4: Felicia Griffin, Pom-Pom, 2020. Yarn. Courtesy of the artist and NIAD Art Center.

Image 5: Finnegan Shannon, House that I modified to be stair-free and planted lavender in the garden for us (detail), 2023. Modified vintage tissue box cover kit.

All photos by Jacob Koestler.

“I can’t say the self portraiture is taking a pause, but I can say this current series is very important to me.There are specific angles I can only get when I’m behind the camera, so my self portraits are on hold as I figure it out. Now, I’m taking the focus off of myself and putting it on what I see in the world. I’m taking self portraiture by painting the bodies of those I see myself reflected in, I’m giving them voice through my work. As an artist, I can make those who often go unseen feel more visible, and I can do it in a way that pays homage to them. I believe my sense of self portraiture has not been erased, rather, it has evolved. I’ve learned that I can’t run away from myself or my family. I know that I’ll show back up in these paintings, I just don’t know how or when.”

At the link in our bio, read Kenneth Woods’ () interview with Louisville-based artist LaNia Roberts ().

Image 1: LaNia Roberts, We Hold Each Other Up (2023). Acrylic and paper collages on canvas.

Image 2: LaNia Roberts, This is Us (2022). Acrylic and paper collaged on canvas.

Image 3: LaNia Roberts

All photos courtesy of the artist.

“A keloid is hypertrophic scar tissue. Essentially, it’s your skin cells healing on top of each other. This is from the words of Camille G. Bacon, a manic healing, which I thoroughly enjoy thinking about. It’s like a constant need to repair something, but it’s also trying to heal too much.

That’s what I think of as the keloidal landscape. In making the exhibition, I’ve compared it with the Black Midwestern landscape; a space that also people don’t look at or want to see at times. People are constantly saying that they’ve never been to the Midwest or asking if St. Louis is the North or the South. They definitely don’t know where Brooklyn or Cairo, Illinois are. Spaces that kind of want this healing or are trying to heal, but are completely forgotten about; but, for me, like keloids, it’s hard to not see them.”

At the link in our bio, read Shawné Holloway’s () interview with artist Katherine Simóne Reynolds about her exhibition at Graham Foundation () earlier in 2023.

Images: Exhibition view, Katherine Simóne Reynolds, A different kind of tender and the practice of overhealing, Graham Foundation, Chicago (25 March–10 June 2023). Courtesy Graham Foundation. Photo: Nathan Keay.

“Like a poem, anything with light is moving
& shouldn’t be described. I’d rather unname
shapes in retrospect: intestines whether you see them or not;
a box with a marquee in it where everything get gone”

At the link in our bio, read Hannah Rego’s () poem “A Lyric Criticism,” written in response to artist Hannah Smith’s () 2022 installation “Big Gulp” at KMAC Contemporary Art Museum ().

All images: Hannah Smith, “Big Gulp” (2022), thermoformed plastic, animated LED circuit, programmed hologram, papier-mâché, laser-cut chipboard, UV printed plexiglass, fiber optics, automatic bubble blower.

Courtesy of the artist and KMAC Museum.