Review of New Museum : "New Humans: Memories of the Future," Anicka Yi’s “In Love with the World”

 

Review of New Museum : "New Humans: Memories of the Future," Anicka Yi’s “In Love with the World”

By Evan Wu

The reopening of the New Museum in 2026 stands out as one of the most anticipated events in New York—not just because of its new building, but because of what the institution represents for contemporary art today. Unlike institutions such as the MET or MOMA, the New Museum is often described as the only museum solely devoted to contemporary art in Manhattan. The museum has built its reputation on showing artists early in their careers, often before they gain global recognition. The museum debuts with a large show featuring 150 artists to discuss and speculate on the world right now, especially in relation to AI and humanity.

I would explain the show as a strong demonstration of Masahiro Mori’s idea of the uncanny valley. The art in the show evokes a sense of uncanniness in the viewer. Uncanniness relies on our internalized understanding of norms and expectations; even a small disruption in a familiar object can expose the invisible structures that shape our behavior. Anicka Yi presents “aerobes,” machines that float in the air, inspired by ocean creatures and mushrooms. These machines blur the line between machine, biology, and atmosphere, reimagining how robots (AI) might exist in the modern world.

Yi’s work makes the space feel alive, with automated moving machines floating throughout the space, breaking boundaries and the typical museum approach to space and confinement. These machines float on their own. The museum staff explained that “these machines are running on their own, almost like cyborgs, with cameras set within the roof of the room to give boundaries to the ‘aerobes’; other than that, they are running by themselves.” Yi’s work represents the reopening of the New Museum and its dedication to another era. The work represents the future and gives viewers a chance to imagine what our future might look like, and the merging of humanity and robots.

Review of the New Museum: "New Humans: Memories of the Future", Precious Okoyomon's "When the Lambs Rise Up Against the Bird of Prey"

Review of the New Museum: New Humans: Memories of the Future, Precious Okoyomon's When the Lambs Rise Up Against the Bird of Prey

By Alicia Li

    

    After a two-year-long wait, the New Museum opens its doors to its newly renovated building, welcoming visitors to their new exhibition: New Humans: Memories of the Future. The show features more than 150 artists to discuss the history, cultural, and societal changes to our conceptions of what it means to be human and the impacts of new technology. One such artist's work was presented in Precious Okoyomon with her piece titled When the Lambs Rise Up Against the Bird of Prey.

    Okoyomon's piece is tucked away quietly in the stairwell of the older New Museum, which connects the third and fourth floors. The Figure sits within the wall of the stirwell, surrounded by a pinkish-salmon-toned felt that takes on a muscle tissue appearance. The animatronic itself is kneeling, dressed in all white, has blonde hair, and has lamb ears. Within the space, she darts her eyes and upper body around, in an infinite cycle of gazing.

    The figure was designed to play off the tension of predator and prey. Okoyomon originally installed the figure in a forest-like environment, having the animatronic move from a naturalistic place to one that is made of of frabric that mimics bodily organs, encouraging the conversation of predator and prey. Is the figure surrounded by its consumption, or has it been consumed? The New Museum's curatorial choice to place the figure within the stairwell heightens this concept, as well. When I first encountered the piece, I knew something was in the wall. Imagine my horror to find out it was moving as well. This choice was an exceptional one as it forces the viewer into the position of prey while encountering the cultural symbol of prey.

    
  

The 2026 Whitney Biennial Review

 

The 2026 Whitney Biennial
Teresa Baker Voluminous Day, The Harvest Melting On Our Tongue
review by Minji Kim

The 2026 Whitney Biennial continues to center the question of what “American art” means, but rather than defining it as a singular idea, this exhibition expands that definition outward. Instead of focusing on specific issues such as AI or other pressing contemporary topics, it draws attention to connections between people, systems, and land, suggesting that American art today operates less as a fixed identity and more as a network of relationships shaped through ongoing interactions. In this sense, the exhibition feels less about categorization and more about mapping these shifting connections. This direction is also reflected in the curatorial approach. As Sawyer noted during the official preview, “Rather than coming to our research for the Biennial with a preconceived container, Marcela and I let our conversations with artists guide us.” As a result, the exhibition avoids a singular narrative and instead allows multiple practices to coexist. The absence of a clearly defined theme does not feel like a lack, but rather creates space for different narratives to unfold simultaneously, allowing for a more open and layered reading of the works.

This sense of “connection” is evident in the work of Teresa Baker. In Voluminous Day and The Harvest Melting On Our Tongue, she combines materials such as yarn, buckskin, and synthetic turf to construct surfaces that exist between the natural and the artificial. As these materials overlap and collide, boundaries blur, reflecting connection as something layered, shifting, and continuously in transition.

             

"When the wind dies down, and the rain grows gentle" (Sarah Imani) Review by Janine Olshefski

 With modernism on the rise, it is hard to find art work that I feel a connection to and/or inspired by as a traditional artist. To keep up with the art world many galleries have been focusing their attention towards what is “popular” during these times. That is why when I stepped foot into the 

The exhibit, “When the wind dies down, and the rain grows gentle” by Sareh Imani, was especially eye-catching for me, not only because of Imani’s technical skills, but because of the reason why she draws what she draws. All of her drawings are rooted in observation during Imani’s routine walks through the forests of Upstate New York, where she resides. The materials she gathers are from various stages of the natural life cycle. In order to preserve these materials Imani produces replications of these organic forms with plaster to use for her still lifes. 

Her composition, scale and medium are all intentional. Her decision to use pastel allows her to be precise while the composition and scale of the pieces forces the viewer to take in the whole drawing by viewing natural elements in a new perspective. What I enjoy about not only the art but the artist is how Imani is able to find the beauty in things most of us would just pass by on the street or even step on going about our daily lives.  

Cinga Samson “Ukuphuthelwa”

 Ishana Sen Das

Cinga Samson “Ukuphuthelwa”

Cinga Samson’s exhibit at The White Cube embodies the isiXhosa word Ukuphuthelwa, which translates to “unable to sleep.” Samson uses shades of grey and white sparingly to convey human figures against dark backgrounds, as though the scenes are illuminated by only the moon. This careful use of color and light gives the impression of a dream or a memory imprinted in the mind. His work features characters with bright white, pupil-less eyes, adding to the insomniac feeling of his paintings. 

In Ukuwelwa komda, the dynamic posing of the figures is reminiscent of a renaissance-style painting. The characters all feel deeply engrossed in what they’re doing, almost as if in a trance or carrying out a ritual. The painting, like others in the show, depicts a guardian-like bird at the top of the work, looking down at the humans. 

As the press release explains, Ukuphuthelwa does not have the same negative connotation that insomnia has in English: “for Samson, sleeplessness is not a condition to be cured, but rather a state of spiritual alertness, a sensitivity that deepens in the dark.” Through Samson’s eyes, we experience this sensitivity in the way that his vision adjusts to the low light, but also through the level of detail that he captures.

Review of Whitney Museum: 2026 Biennial

   This week I visited the Whitney Museum to see the 2026 Whitney Biennial. As one of the most important surveys of contemporary art in the U.S., the Biennial brings together a wide range of artists and works, offering a snapshot of the current artistic moment.

   Unlike exhibitions with a clear theme, this Biennial feels more focused on atmosphere and emotion. Many works explore connections between people, technology, and the environment, while also reflecting a sense of uncertainty and transition. What stood out to me is that the exhibition does not try to give clear answers. Instead, it presents a subtle tension—touching on topics like environmental issues and social instability in indirect ways. 

   Among the works on view, Michelle Lopez's Pandemonium stood out to me the most. Presented on a circular overhead screen, the work requires viewers to look up, creating an immediate sense of immersion. Fragments of newspapers and debris drift across the sky in a continuous loop, appearing chaotic yet clearly constructed. The circular format removes any clear beginning or end, reinforcing a cyclical system that the viewer is placed within rather than observing from a distance. This work reflects a broader concern within the Biennial: how individuals navigate systems of information and crisis. It is visually compelling, but also somewhat ambiguous in how far it pushes its ideas.

   -Kaixin Lu

Review of Guggenheim museum

 Every single time I visit the Guggenheim, there is something great, and it was no exception for Carol Bove. The exhibition occupies the rotunda beautifully, showing a great amount of Bove’s pieces, from early conceptual work and drawings to some more recent monumental sculptures. 

Bove’s sculptures appear with heavy material like stainless steel or scrap metal, yet they feel flexible and soft in their gestures, like they’re enjoying the crowd and dancing as an inflatable tube man in front of a restaurant. I find that to be satisfying to look at and experience the art, where there was an indescribable tension from the industrial material and unexpected delicacy.

 A few of my favorite pieces were these metal “drawings”, featured with some really interesting colors. The colored shapes appear almost like glowing inserts or cutouts with the anodized background, giving me a strict but playful feeling at the same time. 

The exhibition also reveals the evolution of Bove’s practice, which I later did a little bit of research on. Bove’s earlier work, incorporating bookshelves, found objects, or printed materials, emphasizes cultural references and intellectual associations, while the later large sculpture moves toward a more physical engagement with space and perception. Seeing her practice gradually shifting from more conceptual assemblage to something that’s kind of gestural abstraction in three dimensions is also quite interesting. 

-iAN CHEN