#heather-ferbert

#heather-ferbert

"Most people don't stop to observe the crews' work or the infrastructure they uncover," Tentler-Krylov said. "But these unseen things keep the city going."

Both are one-night-in-hell slashers about two estranged sisters forced to fight their way out of a lair of rich people who've joined a devil cult and are hellbent on sacrificing them to their dark lord. They even debut one week after another, the latter on March 20, the former on March 27.

Jasper Johns seemed to reject the tortured, in-the-moment 'I' of Abstract Expressionism, ironically commenting on the heroism and spontaneity associated with Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning in his early work.

"The first step towards a cure is admitting you have a problem," artist Josh Kline writes, highlighting the inequities in New York City's real estate market and its impact on art.

"These works are an exploration of the human body's elasticity and capacity to metamorphose. Informed by my own experience of pregnancy and the birth of my first child last year, these paintings are a meditation on physiological transformation and the body's underlying animalistic and mammalian nature."

Laura Berger continues her explorations of communion in a suite of staggering paintings that place her signature minimal figures in intimate fellowship with one another and the earth.

The visual and chemical properties of the pigment Prussian Blue function as a metaphorical anchor, tying together a cast of watchful female figures within Huitema's hazy, dreamlike worlds.

In many ways working in the tradition of Kazimir Malevich and Josef Albers, his compositions employ a language of squares and rectangles known as "Cells" and "Prisons," connected by bold lines called "Conduits." Together, these geometric and linear arrangements tap into the inherent geometry that structure reality, and conceptually refer to the construction of everyday life, both public and private as well as physical and psychological.

There's this push and pull between feeling unease and discomfort, the nature of the spaces, and why they feel uncomfortable. But there is also tenderness and warmth, people adapting to these spaces and finding ways to make them comfortable.

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.

Dealers like artists with established sales records because it lowers their already considerable financial exposure. Renting a gallery space in Tribeca costs anywhere between $8,000-30,000 a month on top of staff, marketing, and daily operations. With that kind of overhead, very few business owners can afford to take on the financial risk of untested artists.

I work outside, carving and shaping the stone. Outside my house, I have a table, an extension cord, and tools. It's very cold and I have to wear all my winter clothes. When it's too cold, I do the filing and finishing work inside after I shape it outside. I listen to all kinds of music. I listen to Eminem all the time; his albums are all my favorites. For drawings, I work at Kinngait Studios or at home on my kitchen table.

Mornings are best for concentrated work. In the winter, I turn on the heat at 8am and get started around 10am. Summer, I start around 9am. I have two areas in the studio for projects. The large, heavy wood sculptures are carved in the front section of the studio, closest to the roll-up wide door. Smaller sculptures are placed on a hydraulic workbench. Before I start, I focus, connect with the Source, and ask for guidance.

After six centuries of Swedish rule, and more than a hundred years as a grand duchy of Russia, your nation is finally on the brink of independence. To the south, Europe is tearing itself to bits in the First World War; to the east, there's the Russian Revolution. Most of the art you've seen at this point is either second-rate or beats a patriotic drum-lakes and forests and scenes from the "Kalevala," a national epic featuring some cosmic eggs and a drowned girl.

Karina Lumiere paints like someone who trusts color more than language. Her work does not whisper its intentions. It glows, pulses, seduces. This is abstraction born not from theory, but from devotiondevotion to intuition, to sensation, to the unapologetic power of hue as an emotional instrument. Her path to abstract expressionism was never academic. It unfolded in solitude, shaped by meditation and spiritual practice, where listening became more important than learning and presence eclipsed instruction.

The paintings are charged with potential discomfort- from middle school angst to family dynamics. The work wrestles with the nebulous nature of memory and piecing together the past. Taylor embraces the power of sentimentality and nostalgia, but also confronts the complexity of misunderstood communication. Even shared experiences can be perceived vastly differently. By looking to the past we can begin to better understand ourselves, and those around us.