Exhibitions

In these turbulent times, creativity and empathy are more necessary than ever to bridge divides and find solutions. Artnet News’s Art and Empathy Project is an ongoing investigation into how the art world can help enhance emotional intelligence, drawing insights and inspiration from creatives, thought leaders, and great works of art.
The Danish-Icelandic artist and climate activist Olafur Eliasson was pacing around his studio and had vanished from the camera’s field of vision. He excused himself politely.
“Sometimes, to better concentrate, I might walk around the table. Just so you know I have you with me at all times,” he explained, breathing heavily into his microphone during a video interview with Artnet News about his show at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery in New York, which is titled after a new artwork (“Your Ocular Relief,” March 9–April 24).
“I think that through moving, you also access other parts of your brain,” he said.
For years, Eliasson has been exploring the possibilities of embodied experiences that can sharpen our awareness of our surroundings and each other. He speaks in terms of thinking “through your body,” or “eliminating the boundary between the brain and the body, the body and space, the body and time.” In his work, he makes heavy use of natural phenomena, particularly light, which he concocts into immersive, wonder-inspiring art installations and sculptures.
Drawing inspiration from, and collaborating with, hip hop artists, philosophers, cooks, perfume-makers, architects, economists, political commentators, anthropologists, dancers, and other artists, Eliasson is constantly looking to deepen connections across disciplines. His art, as he puts it, is an opportunity to “host” divergent viewpoints and spark debate.
After a little more pacing, Eliasson sat down and said he hoped his new show would give viewers a chance to “exhale.” The trick, he said, is to challenge visitors, but also to leave them feeling seen.
Olafur Eliasson, Your ocular relief (2020). Courtesy of the artist.

How does Your ocular relief fit into the context of your work, and what possible new directions does it take?
It’s essentially a work that uses light and projections. So it’s very much an extension of my work. It’s not really different in that sense. 
One and a half years ago, I started thinking about the way everything was changing. It seems so far away now, when there were wildfires and climate concerns related to that. We had this quite hectic year, all the way back to Trump winning the election, the killing at the Saudi embassy [in Turkey], and the general from Iran being shot in Iraq by the Americans. And I thought, “Oh my God, what a hectic time we’ve come out of!” Two months later, we had Covid, and just two and a half months into Covid, we had the George Floyd killing, and we gradually realized that 2019 was just the warm up. 
So I thought a lot about how everything seemed to escalate, and the kind of destabilization that came out of that. Because I have worked with stress reduction and meditation, I was very intrigued by exhale and relief, so from the beginning, I wanted to do an artwork that was somehow welcoming this notion of the exhale. 
We are incredibly over stimulated. We have the challenge of concentrating, because social media is omnipresent. That’s the world we are in now, and that inspired me to try to react to it with what I had worked on already for some time, namely lens flares and glares. In the science of optics, a flare is like the waste product, light not being used for what it’s supposed to be used. I thought that’s a nice narrative, because it’s so exceptionally beautiful, but it’s a little bit like homeless light.
Homeless light, I love that idea.
In the spirit of the times we live in, there’s a diversification of the lens because we have lenses everywhere. Everyone can make their own news. Everyone can post themselves, and this is of course complex, but nevertheless, this is why George Floyd was filmed. And one can say that the decentralization of lenses has led to a new kind of witness. Namely, that you can actually exercise your point of view by filming it, almost like a crowdsourcing of evidence.
As it turns out, the film [in the exhibition], which is an abstract film with many colors—if anything, it looks like a psychedelic or experimental film with no narrative. It is really analog. It’s really real world. It’s surprising the extent to which you can clearly see there are no pixels. This is a non-digital thing, which is not to suggest that I’m the binary opposite of the digital. I’m not against digital, but I am interested in maintaining a sense of the real, because the digital has also introduced a questionable source of reality. It’s suddenly important that the film is analog.
In terms of immersive things, I’m just very interested that with four handfuls of lenses and lights, and a few small motors that come from car windshield wipers, you have something that looks like it’s made by a giant computer. I think it’s important not to forget that. 
Olafur Eliasson, Atmospheric wave wall (2020). Willis Tower, Chicago. Photo: Darris Lee Harris. © 2020 Olafur Eliasson.

What else can you tell us about the show?
In the exhibition, there are a couple things that might come across as astronomical models, [suggesting an] idea of outer space, and the ability to imagine what is going on inside a black hole. These places are beyond our imagination. We are all very much aware that there is something behind that horizon, things we do not know. The dangerous thing is when we don’t know that we don’t know them, because then we take reality for granted as it is, and then we stop questioning it.
What other ideas animated these works?
If you look at society at large, there is an increasing sense of polarization. People disagree. And it seems to be the norm that they don’t seek to address conflict in other ways than making it into abuse. It would be great if we could come together and sit. We don’t have to hold hands in a circle and smoke, just to host the view of someone else, acknowledging it’s not my view. It is these spaces that I think culture is capable of [creating]. 
When I talk about relief, it is also in the sense of, “I have courage again, to be with someone who is different.” What is the fastest way to make a populist into a humanist? It is to look them in the eye, hold their hand, and to listen to them.
You’re answering one of my questions about empathy in your work, and how you address or encourage it. 
I think one should be careful making rules about it, because it can be art regardless of being capable of [encouraging empathy]. But I do think that an artwork is also capable of hosting a meeting of different trajectories, just like a work is capable of sharing a set of principles that might make you feel included.
I have found a principle that, as a metaphor, covers all this very well. [When you see] a work of art you identify with, it’s as if the artwork is giving structure or form or color or language, even, to something you alone were not able to articulate or express. But the artwork suddenly creates this situation where you feel heard. 
Feeling heard makes you feel validated. An incredibly fundamental sentence that I will use for a title someday, is, “You’re good enough as you are.” You’re already doing a lot. Let’s start from here. 
Olafur Eliasson, Your uncertain shadow (colour) (2010). Installation view: Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, 2020. Photo: Erika Ede © 2010 Olafur Eliasson.

When we feel heard, do we also tend to listen to others more? 
I do think it drives your consciousness towards opportunities in which you feel better and less stressed. You have more endorphins from meeting another person, than you would have if the meeting was more fear-based. 
I think the work of art alone won’t make you more empathic, but I do think that art, as it turns out, is like a sequence of spatial and memory-driven activities. I think [art] asks things and [lends to] a state of indecisiveness—of just not knowing. We don’t all have to have these solitary statements that are tweetable. I think it’s actually wonderful to say, “Well, I am taking it in, and then I will let you know how I feel. I actually don’t even know how I feel anymore.”
On that note, how do you find energy to be creative right now? 
The truth is, it kind of goes up and down. I’ve followed the general pattern of being on and off and being less and more motivated, and occasionally depressed as well. But all in all, I count myself as privileged in the sense that I’ve had work to do. I’ve actually been very busy, with ongoing exhibitions opening and closing.
Here at the studio, there have been various teams around, and we’ve all worked together, really focused, and that’s how I was not afraid to make a show now. It’s hard just to call it optimism. It’s not that people are naïve, but I think that people are trying, and they’re just going to put a higher bet on tomorrow than they were putting on yesterday. I think that has kept me afloat.
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For those who doubted that the experience economy would survive the pandemic, look no further than New York’s Artechouse, which had lines down the block on Friday night for the preview of its new exhibition, “Geometric Properties,” featuring a 30-minute experiential artwork by Julius Horsthuis.
Like all non-essential business, Artechouse shuttered at the onset of the pandemic last March, just six months after opening. (Its first location opened in Washington, DC, in 2017, followed by a second one in Miami that opened in 2018).
Cofounders Sandro Kereselidze and Tati Pastukhova had to furlough 100 workers, but say they were able to bring back 95 percent of them to reopen in September, just in time for the space’s one-year anniversary.
Since then, Artechouse says it has welcomed over 150,000 visitors across its three locations. (Tickets range from $17 for children, to $24 for adults.)
“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“People were saying ‘I missed being around art—I didn’t know how much I needed this,’” Artechouse visitor experience director Lena Galperina told Artnet News. “During this time of isolation, an artwork can help you feel connected. That kind of experience is what’s bringing people to the space.”
The Instagram trap “museum,” tailor-made for photo ops, seems like the last kind of place that would be safe mid-pandemic. But “Geometric Properties” presents swirling, dizzying images that can be photographed from anywhere in the room, allowing for at least some social distancing.
“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

Even in normal times, Artechouse isn’t filled to capacity to ensure optimal visitor experience. “We’re well below the 25 percent” legal capacity limit in New York, Galperina said.
And though there wasn’t always a full six feet between parties, especially while filing into the space, it was fairly easy to keep my distance for the duration of my visit. In that regard, it actually seems safer than a traditional art museum.
(At my only visit to MoMA since museums reopened, it seemed that every work in every gallery had at least one person in front of it at all times, making social distancing all but impossible.)
“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

The Artechouse exhibition is an impressive display. “Julius was able to create these incredible surreal worlds that are actually an expression of mathematics,” Galperina said.
“Only in the last 15 years have our computers become fast enough and powerful enough for us to start to explore three-dimensional fractals,” she added. “Now, using the latest video and audio technology, we’re actually allowing people to stand inside a fractal and experience it as a surreal, almost narrative journey.”
See more photos from the exhibition below.
“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Alex Maysonet, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis at Artechouse NYC. Photo by Max Rykov, courtesy of Artechouse.

“Geometric Properties” by Julius Horsthuis is on view at Artechouse, 439 West 15th Street, New York (at Chelsea Market), March 1–September 6, 2021. 
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For John Feodorov, spirituality is a thorny issue. The California-born artist is of mixed Native American and Euro-American descent, which provides the source material for his work addressing stereotypes of America, consumerism, and identity.
Feodorov’s work highlights the vastly different values held by Western and Native societies—and specifically contrasts the “Disneyfication of nature” that appears across the West with the veneration of the natural world in Native mythologies.
To grapple with these contradictions, Feodorov has created a “hybrid mythology” using kitschy objects, archival imagery, and paintings to visualize the chasm. In an exclusive interview with Art21 featured as part of its flagship Art in the Twenty-First Century series back in 2001, Feodorov describes his upbringing and the culture clash that inspires his work.
Growing up spending summers on the Navajo reservation where his grandparents lived, the artist was introduced to traditional aspects of the culture. His grandmother was known as a hand-trembler, sought out as an oracle figure by those seeking answers; his grandfather was a Yei Bi Chei dancer who performed the ritualistic dance of the gods. Back home, the artist was part of a family of Jehovah’s Witnesses.
The two cultures, he says, are “completely opposed to each other.” His solution: to use humor in his art “to try and make sense of it all.”
The artist’s series “Totem Teddies” juxtaposes the materialism of America with shamanism and ritual by posing stuffed animals with Native American totemic masks. “They’re just examples of the issue of commodifying spirituality,” he says. “I’m not debunking spirituality, I’m not making fun of it… Well, yeah I am,” he adds with a laugh. “It’s only because I think it’s necessary.”
Right now at New York’s CUE Art Foundation, an exhibition spanning the breadth of Feodorov’s career is on view, curated by Ruba Katrib. The works on view further probe ideas of spirituality, religion, and the artist’s personal journey navigating his dual heritage.
Watch the video, which originally appeared as part of Art21’s Art in the Twenty-First Century series, below. The brand new 10th season of the show is available now at Art21.org. “John Feodorov: Assimilations” is on view at CUE Art Foundation through March 31, 2021.
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This is an installment of “Art on Video,” a collaboration between Artnet News and Art21 that brings you clips of newsmaking artists. A new series of the nonprofit Art21’s flagship series Art in the Twenty-First Century is available now on PBS. Catch all episodes of other series like New York Close Up and Extended Play and learn about the organization’s educational programs at Art21.org

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In these turbulent times, creativity and empathy are more necessary than ever to bridge divides and find solutions. Artnet News’s Art and Empathy Project is an ongoing investigation into how the art world can help enhance emotional intelligence, drawing insights and inspiration from creatives, thought leaders, and great works of art. 

“James Turrell: Into the Light”at MASS MoCA through 2025
What the museum says: “In James Turrell’s hands, light is more than simply a source of illumination: it is a discrete, physical object. His sculptures and architectural interventions elevate our experience and perception of light and space. Squares of sky seem to float, suspended, in ceilings or walls; architecture disintegrates; and brilliant geometric shapes levitate in mid-air.
“Turrell began using light as a sculptural medium in 1966, painting the windows of his studio in Santa Monica to seal off the natural light and experiment with projections. His practice has been shaped by the ongoing manipulation of architecture, framing and altering the way viewers engage with the environment.”
Why it’s worth a look: In MASS MoCA’s extended exhibition, “Into the Light,” one Turrell work from each decade of his years-long career is on view, revealing how his practice has evolved. Early works—such as Afrum from 1967, in which a beam is projected into the corner of a gallery—were revolutionary for Turrell’s use of architecture, and for making seemingly three-dimensional objects simply out of light.
In later works, Turrell mastered the Ganzfield (whole field) effect, in which viewers are fully immersed in light that changes color. Turrell’s controlled environments are a full sensory experience—which is just what the artist intends. With a background in perceptual psychology, he has dedicated his work to calling attention to light and space in all its majesty.
MASS MoCA is now building a Turrell Skyspace in a concrete water tank on its campus. The project has been more than 30 years in the making, and began when Turrell first visited the (then empty) museum, and imagined one of his colored sky works there.
How it can be used as an empathy workout: Being inside one of Turrell’s light spaces can be disorienting, like walking out of a dark theater into the harsh daylight; the drastic light change is often jarring. But as a shared experience, it can be extremely rewarding. Many of the artist’s inspirations come from his study of the cosmos, but not only that. Turrell is also a devout Quaker who emphasizes silent contemplation as a means to enlightenment.
Turrell’s works invite viewers to consider their own place in the world, which ultimately means considering those around us, and how we impact one another. The artist is especially invested in having viewers feel the same wonder and appreciation he does; he wants them to “enter the realm of the artist.”
“This world that we inhabit has a lot to do with the reality we form through vision,” Turrell said in a 2011 interview. “It’s taking your thinking to this other level. This happens in flight, and this is what art does… it broadens our perspective.”
What it looks like:

James Turrell, Perfectly Clear (Ganzfeld), (1991). Gift of Jennifer Turrell© James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Perfectly Clear (Ganzfeld), (1991). Gift of Jennifer Turrell. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Perfectly Clear (Ganzfeld), (1991). Gift of Jennifer Turrell. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Dissolve (Curved Wide Glass), (2017). Collection of Hudson C. Lee. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Afrum (Projection), (1967). Collection of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Raethro II, Magenta (Corner Shallow Space), (1970). Collection of Myffanwy Anderson. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Once Around, Violet (Shallow Space), (1971). Collection of Tallulah Anderson. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Once Around, Violet (Shallow Space), (1971). Collection of Tallulah Anderson. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

James Turrell, Perfectly Clear (Ganzfeld), (1991). Gift of Jennifer Turrell. © James Turrell, Photo by Florian Holzherr. Courtesy of MASS MoCA.

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As galleries and art institutions around the world begin to slowly reopen, we are spotlighting individual shows—online and IRL—that are worth your attention.

“Awol Erizku: New Visions for Iris”Citywide in New York and Chicagothrough June 20, 2021

What Public Art Fund says: “Awol Erizku’s distinctive visual language emerges from thoughtful, contemplative underpinnings into layered, colorful, and striking photographs. Erizku (b. 1988, Gondar, Ethiopia) has created a new body of 13 photographs for 350 JCDecaux bus shelters across New York City’s five boroughs and throughout Chicago. ‘New Visions for Iris’ marks Public Art Fund’s first simultaneous presentation in two cities, and first ever in Chicago.
Growing up in the Bronx and influenced by its diverse milieu, Erizku’s approach to photography is informed by both contemporary life in the United States and global culture. In ‘New Visions for Iris,’ Erizku highlights the paradoxes of how hybrid identities are treated within American society. His bold and vibrant images contain evocative juxtapositions and compositions with highly saturated colors that call to mind the improvisational expressiveness and poetic nuance of his adopted forefathers: David Hammons, Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Kobe Bryant, Nas, and others.”
Why it’s worth a look: In the midst of the confusion, sadness, and anxiety of 2020 on an international scale, artist Awol Erizku was managing a tectonic shift in his personal life: the birth of his first child, a daughter named Iris. The experience profoundly affected the photographer, who rose to superstardom with his dramatically lit, meticulously staged images that challenge historical Western narratives by re-framing them through contemporary arbiters of identity.
Recalling early genre paintings and still lifes, Erizku’s tableaux feature a melange of icons and objects, including cowrie shells, African masks, Egyptian busts, colorful plastic toys, and Ethiopian letterforms, all references to aspects of personal and global identity, religion, nationality, and consumerism.
“As a father, I think about how to raise a daughter in this world and explain cultural parameters and gray areas,” the artist said in a statement. “I want my daughter Iris to grow up with these images so they’re the norm for her.”
Also included in the suite of photos are contemplative portraits, including one of Michael Brown Sr., pictured in profile and cast in shadow against a green backdrop. In another, a man is seen from behind wearing a Kobe Bryant jersey as he kneels in prayer on a small rug in a park. A great bird is perched on the seat of a motorcycle next to him. Birds occur frequently in the series, wings outstretched, either about to take off in flight, or just alit. These, like many aspects of the works in the show, serve as symbols of renewal and transformation.
“With ‘New Visions for Iris,’ I want to reflect a less fixed, rigid, institutional understanding of the spaces we occupy,” Erizku says.
What it looks like:

Awol Erizku, Deep Shadow (Michael Brown Sr.) (2020). Commissioned by Public Art Fund. Courtesy of Awol Erizku.

Awol Erizku, Letters for the Nigist (2020). Commissioned by Public Art Fund. Courtesy of Awol Erizku.

Awol Erizku, Visions for the Nigist (2020) in Chicago. Photo: David C. Sampson, Courtesy of Public Art Fund, NY.

Awol Erizku, 13 Months of Sunshine (2020). Commissioned by Public Art Fund. Courtesy of Awol Erizku.

Awol Erizku, Park Match (2020) in New York. Photo: Nicholas Knight, Courtesy of Public Art Fund, NY.

Awol Erizku, Zuhr (2020). Commissioned by Public Art Fund. Courtesy of Awol Erizku.

Awol Erizku, Pharaoh Whispers (2020). Commissioned by Public Art Fund. Courtesy of Awol Erizku.

Awol Erizku, Going Home (2020) in Chicago. Photo: David C. Sampson, Courtesy of Public Art Fund, NY.

Awol Erizku, Arrival (2020) in New York. Photo: Nicholas Knight, Courtesy of Public Art Fund, NY.

Awol Erizku, Going Home (2020) in Chicago. Photo: David C. Sampson, Courtesy of Public Art Fund, NY.

Awol Erizku, Going Home (2020). Commissioned by Public Art Fund. Courtesy of Awol Erizku.

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