The dream is the confusion machine I didn't have to build, a space where perception slips beyond authorship. Within Communal Dreams, influence operates as a subtle signal rather than a directive force.
Oshatz worked on a monumental scale to represent underwater scenes, creating a full stage silk backdrop. He also designed hand painted silk waves that dancers moved across the stage.
The entire indoor journey, from entry to elevator to the 100th floor, has been reimagined as a multi-sensory, immersive environment. The overhaul comes via a collaboration between experiential design firm Journey, multimedia studio Moment Factory and NYC-based design outfit SOFTlab.
"It's an amalgamation of the Chicago neighborhood aesthetic with a Bulls fan, quite literally. It's kind of on the nose, but that's how I juxtapose the elements of my work, with the structure of a home and then a figure who is around or in the home."
"It's bizarre to watch people in this way - even in gay cruising areas you wouldn't stare at other bodies this intensely. Now, whenever I go to a concert, especially at the Berliner Philharmonie with its encircling seating, my gaze hovers over the audience as well as the stage."
Seeing the Alhambra in Granada was an extraordinary experience for me. It was the first time that I understood painting as something other than an object hanging on a wall. I thought that paintings could be in a fixed place, made for that place, made for the light of the place, experienced kinesthetically.
On Franklin Street in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, one non-commercial gallery fosters 'a small, stubbornly human space for friction.' Friction—the ubiquitous buzzword that captures the simultaneous delight and discomfort of doing things the slow way—is at the heart of artists Pap Souleye Fall and Char Jeré's current show at Subtitled NYC. It also reflects the overall spirit of this little exhibition space and of a burgeoning movement to reject our culture of optimization in favor of a bumpier, more intimate, less alienating experience.
In 2024, I made a vow to never base my art criticism on wall labels. My decision came after reading reactions to that year's Whitney Biennial. "If every label in 'Even Better Than the Real Thing,' the 81st installment of the Whitney Biennial, were peeled off the walls and tossed into the Hudson, what would happen?" asked Jackson Arn in the New Yorker. (He went on to suggest that the overall show would have been much better.)