Camille Henrot, A Numer of Things: Collision Between Nature and Order

"A Number of Things" located on 22nd Street in New York, Camille Henrot presents an exploration of order and structure. The exhibition is a journey of Caimille Hernot's personal growth, guiding us through her understanding of civilization, obedience, and societal pressure.

The dog sculptures in the door way immediately caught my attention. Beside on how entertaining they look, Caimille has put a seed in our mind to suggest the order and obedience within our civilization.

The two Sculptures, 1263 / 3612 (Abacus) and 73 / 37 (Abacus) are in a shape of an undefinable creature, the motion reminds me of the dog sculptures. My childhood memory flooded into my mind when I saw these sculptures. In my early years, the abacus was not a playful educational instrument but a structured tool of learning, often associated with tests and competitions. However, the abacus eventually are removed from the education system due to the rapid modernization in China, and by the time I finish primary school, it completely disappeared, and younger generations were no longer required to learn it.

This sculpture is full of surprise, it truly brought me a unexpected experience, and recalling old memories. It got me wondering, even though I hate politics, it is inevitable to see its effect on people mind in a society.

- Logan Ping

Authority Problem At Satchel Projects: An Opposition.

Authority Problem is a group show curated by Satchel Projects Gallery, hidden at 526 W 26th Street, #913, NYC. Featuring artists Kris Chatterson, James Esber, Jane Fine, David Humphrey, Clare Kambhu, Karimadeebora McMillan, Mira Schor, and Peter Williams, the exhibition rejects Henri Matisse’s notion of “pure” and “relaxing” art from Notes of a Painter. Instead, the work stands against institutional authority, abuses of power, and the role of protest in today’s global shift toward authoritarianism.

Upon stepping into this white-walled, institutional, and conventional gallery space, the spit of saturated colors from the various acrylic or oil paintings and prints places viewers in a space where political urgency collides with formal aesthetics, making it impossible to passively observe. Near the entrance, Jane Fine’s American History X stands out with neon graffiti marks and charged symbols referencing artists like Trenton Doyle Hancock and Philip Guston. Across the room, Mira Schor’s This is Not Political ironically becomes deeply political, simply because there are no right answers. 

 Thus, overtly and subvertly, I see themes of power, protest, reclaiming, and resisting. Yet, this intensity does not match the conventional space it resides in, almost muting the voices leaping from the canvases. Or perhaps the intimacy and confinement feel less like an exhibition and more like being caught in the middle of a heated debate.

Nicola Tyson at Petzel Gallery: An Exploration of Playfulness and Ambiguity

    Nicola Tyson’s exhibition I am a teapot investigates the material qualities of paint while playfully exploring themes of the body. Her paintings are bold in size and color, and Tyson’s simplification of the human/animal form into a gestural language of mark-making feels just as confident as her choice of color palette and scale. Simultaneously, her brush strokes feel almost haphazard or coincidental, placing the figures in her paintings and us as the viewer in a precarious position, teetering between certainty and vulnerability. This in-between space that Tyson creates, and that we and her characters are left in, extends past mere preoccupations with the painted surface into a space where topics of bodily ambiguity unravel: Tyson approaches this topic with a genuine humor, making the images — although elaborate in their dualistic nature of being intentional yet incidental  — easy to digest. In Their Dog, an image of a conjoined couple enveloping their dog sits atop a vibrant, red background. The couple’s facial features are simple yet effective: with two holes for eyes and a half-circle for the mouth, Tyson intentionally carves the rest of the figure’s form around these negative spaces to reveal the underpainting. Excluding the simplified yet distinct facial features, Tyson removes any indication of the figures’ genders. This interplay between clarity and ambiguity – persistence and restraint – sums up the complex quality of the show itself.

Tyson, N. Their Dog (2023). Acrylic on canvas, 77 x 66 in.

    - Molly Keenan

The Woods Woman Method by Saya Woolfalk from the Susan Inglett Gallery

Saya Woolfalk’s show, “The Woods Woman Method”, was shown in the Susan Inglett Gallery from 31 January to 15 March 2025. This show explored themes of identity through feminist theory, anthropology, and oral storytelling. She showed a series titled “Birthing a New Sky”, made using mixed media collage, which depicts six plants with a figure alluding to moon phases. The center of the 7 pieces is slightly larger, drawing attention to a figure surrounded by organic shapes, and alludes to lunar imagery in the center of the figure. Symbolically, the figure feels spiritual and cosmic with connections to nature as a theme in the work. The plants shown in the collection are colorful, using light pastels in a blue and purple palette. The soft palette adds to the feminine energy of the work that is also often associated with plants. 

Each plant holds medicinal properties that were commonly passed down orally by the African Americans enslaved in the South. Woolfalk depicts the plant meadowsweet, which was traditionally used as a medicine to alleviate joint pain and heartburn. Beautiful as it is, Woolfalk reminds us that representing it also keeps a tradition of teaching about these plants alive.

WC 201

-Sonja

Isabelle Brourman, Exhibit 1: Paper Trail, Will Shott Gallery on New York’s Lower East Side

 Isabelle Brourman: Will Shott Gallery, Exhibit 1: Paper Trail

At a tiny hole-in-the-wall gallery on New York’s Lower East Side is Exhibit 1: Paper Trail, a disinctive collection of work by courtroom artist Isabelle Brourman. Her artworks are unlike the more realistic illustrations typically produced by courtroom artists. The pieces depict Donald Trump’s various court battles in the past two years. Her sketches reveal the theatrical frenzy of the current American psyche and are a document of the increasingly absurd political climate under the new Trump administration. 

With what Brourman describes as “Tasmanian-devil glamour style,” cartoony, adrenaline-filled sketches capture the strange spectacle of the courtroom in a fast and wild manner. Caricatured faces capture not only the defendant but are morphed with depictions of all the players in the room: the judge, jury, lawyers, and the witnesses. The illustrations are layered with strings of testimonies, becoming a visual record of the courtroom atmosphere itself.

“The work knows more about the trial than I do,” says Brourman. This is evident in pieces like "Gauntlet Press Conference" and "I Want to See It,” where Brourman’s improvisational style allows those not present in the court proceedings to truly feel the messiness of the moments. Instead of keeping her gaze out of the sketches, as typical courtroom artists do, she is open about her political views and leans into her own experience of being a part of a media-sensationalized trial.

“I never broke the rules — except for my JUUL, but I never got caught.” (Brourman).

While she may be “trespassing the tradition,” her work still gained the respect of both sides of the political system without pandering to either of them, and it even captured the attention of President Trump himself, who later sat for her as she painted him in Mar-a-lago.

What begins as a quick jot of dialogue grows into a fleshed out snapshot capturing the tension, energy, and weirdness of the courtroom.

- Trinity Vu

Rexy Tseng: Mouthful of Dirty Copper

Located in the basement level of Magenta Plains Gallery, Rexy Tseng’s Mouthful of Dirty Copper creates a foggy atmosphere that mirrors the muted palette and the almost apocalyptic feeling evoked by his paintings. Tseng’s work directly engages with the surge in AI-generated imagery, and in turn the growing value of traditional painting as a medium. 

Tseng’s paintings capture images of landscapes, in the aftermath of destruction, from an aerial view. Using rough color blocking, alongside areas of high detail, he creates a tension between chaos and order. His work echoes the abstract and sporadic feeling that is common within AI renderings, utilizing multiple perspectives that morph into each other, reproducing a similar feeling of disorientation that often comes with generated imagery. His painting titled Open Wound captures scenes of destruction in a more literal sense, obviously depicting an abandoned pileup of semi-trucks. Whereas, Wet Walls is slightly more ambiguous, and in line with AI-generated imagery, forcing the viewer to interpret the scene and engage with the uncertainty often present in AI-generated images

Tseng’s work resonates strongly in the context of increasing natural disasters and the growing sense of unease as we witness events similar to those he has depicted unfold in real time, reflecting the fragility of our environment and the unsettling consequences of our technological advancements and human actions.

-Harper Burt

Alexis Trice; "Deep Sea Swallow Me"

Alexis Trice’s "Deep Sea, Swallow Me," currently on view at Long Story Short Gallery, takes viewers on an emotional journey into the heart of the ocean. Through her powerful use of color and texture, Trice explores the way water mirrors our own emotions—how it holds both beauty and danger, both light and shadow. The pieces evoke a sense of constant change, like the shifting tides or the layers of memory that accumulate over time. It’s a stunning exploration of how our feelings evolve, much like water - flowing, transforming, and sometimes, sinking deep below the surface.

Standout pieces included "Salt of the Earth" and "I Had a Dream I Was Crying", depicting long-haired dogs crying pearly tears into the water below. There’s something incredibly moving about the imagery—those tears, both delicate and weighty, with their pearly sheen, are a haunting symbol of how emotions, even the most painful ones, can crystallize into something enduring. It’s like watching grief or loss transform into something that stays with you, just like a memory. These works, along with the rest of the show, leave you thinking about the rhythms of time and how everything—emotions, memories, even the ocean—moves in cycles. Trice's exhibition isn’t just a visual experience, but an emotional one, inviting you to dive into the depths of what lies beneath the surface, both in nature and in ourselves.

Salt of The Earth

I Had a Dream I Was Crying