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    Nina Chanel Abney and Jeffrey Deitch On Finding the True Artist’s Voice [Exclusive]

    “San Juan Heal” (2022), Geff en Hall, Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, New York City. Artwork © the artist, Nicholas Knight Studio. All images courtesy of The Monacelli Press, shared with permission

    Nina Chanel Abney and Jeffrey Deitch On Finding the True Artist’s Voice [Exclusive]

    October 6, 2025

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    This conversation is an exclusive excerpt from NINA CHANEL ABNEY © 2025. Reproduced by permission from The Monacelli Press. All rights reserved. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

    Jeffrey Deitch: Nina, I’ve always been inspired by your expansive vision of what an artist can do. Your achievement in painting and works on paper is really outstanding—as is your NFT startup; your interest in multiples—but I’m very curious about your interest in public art murals. We did several of them together; so Iʼd like to ask you to start [by speaking] about this expansive vision you have about being an artist and reaching a broad public.

    Nina Chanel Abney: I think it first comes out of my natural inclination to work in many different mediums. Growing up and looking at [the work of] Henri Matisse and Andy Warhol, my understanding of a masterful artist was an artist who evolved their practice through experimentation with different mediums. When I knew I wanted to be an artist, I aspired to have a career in which each body of work propels my practice forward.

    Deitch: I remember a discussion we had some years ago about proposing a balloon for the Macyʼs Thanksgiving Day Parade. They didn’t understand how great you were, but I was very impressed then—and that was some years ago—very impressed by your ambition to reach people with your art.

    Abney: I have always appreciated graffiti artists and their ability to reach a broad audience. The idea that anyone could access art just by walking by it and the idea of being able to share my work with a larger public has become more interesting for me, showing people how you can discover art in the everyday—whether thatʼs a sneaker or a billboard. I am always looking to find new ways to do that.

    Deitch: Our first project together was your great mural at Coney Island. Somehow, I had the instinct that we had to position you right at the center, give you the great entrance wall, and your work was phenomenal.

    Abney: Thank you very much.

    Deitch: Was that one of the first public murals you did?

    Abney: Yes, it was one of the first. The very first one I did was in Newark, New Jersey, off of McCarter Highway with Project for Empty Space. They did a program where they worked with about eighteen different artists through a long span of the highway, and each artist got a section of the wall. When given the opportunity, I said, “Of course I’ll do it.”

    Most everyone involved was a full-time graffiti artist. I completely underestimated what the project would entail. We were working crazy hours to avoid traffic, basically midnight to 5:00 a.m. It was about 1:00 a.m. and I went there with spray paint in hand, arrogantly thinking I could just start working directly on the wall. I realized, “Oh my God this is… an entire other way of working, a talent I don’t have.” I was on the verge of tears, panicking at 3:00 in the morning on the side of the highway, thinking, “I don’t even know how to do this.” It was a learning curve.

    In that moment, I had to figure out how to translate my work into a large-scale mural. Thatʼs when I began using tape and creating stencils to adapt my imagery to a larger scale. That was the very first mural. After I conquered the first mural, I did one in Detroit with Library Street Collective and Coney Island came after. Fortunately, every opportunity led to another, allowing me to improve my technique along the way. I might still do a balloon [for the Macyʼs parade]. I found a loophole, I think.

    Deitch: That would be very exciting. I love how you think. By the time you did your third mural at Coney Island, you had totally perfected it. It was incredible and so impressive to see you and your team. We more recently did this project in Miami with two gigantic multi-story walls and a tunnel, and that was phenomenal. It was amazing to see how you had put together this team that allows you to create massive works of public art.

    Abney: At first, I was doing the murals with one studio assistant, which was labor intensive because I work intuitively. It truly felt like doing an extremely large painting in a very condensed timeline, sometimes less than a week. It didn’t seem sustainable. Also, I realized that maybe I’m a little afraid of heights. Thatʼs when I came up with a different strategy.

    My friend JJ, who helps me manage my mural projects, introduced me to an amazing team of women painters who are capable of working on the side of skyscrapers with no fear. Theyʼre badass and have been helping me paint murals ever since. There’s great synergy.

    Mural for the Morrison Residence Hall basketball court (2018). Artwork © the artist, Nathan Klima Duke/UNC Nannerl O. Keohane Distinguished Visiting Professor, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

    Deitch: Oh, thatʼs fascinating. Iʼd like to talk about how you approach the work. I read in a previous interview that you do not do preparatory sketches. Is that correct? It seemed with the complexity your work, one would think that there are numerous preparatory sketches.

    Abney: There are not. If I sketched the piece beforehand, Iʼd lose interest and wouldn’t want to paint it. The excitement for me comes from the unknown—the spontaneity and problem-solving in the moment to create a cohesive composition.

    Deitch: Thatʼs extraordinary. It’s very rare that an artist can create these large-scale complex works without numerous preparatory drawings. I’ve seen that with Keith Haring, who would be able to start a large painting or mural in the upper left corner and move across, but thatʼs amazing that this is all internalized. It’s almost like a jazz improvisation that you do.

    Abney: Each painting becomes a puzzle for me to solve.

    Deitch: Something that I admire immensely in your work is the inherent rhythm of the composition: in classic critical art terms, one talks about the color, the edge, things that you associate with painting. Rhythm does not generally come up, but thatʼs something thatʼs so inherent in your work. Looking at a large painting of yours, I can see it move. I can feel the rhythm. Iʼd like to ask you about that aspect of your work, because thatʼs quite unique.

    The excitement for me comes from the unknown—the spontaneity and problem-solving in the moment to create a cohesive composition.Nina Chanel Abney

    Abney: The work is rhythmic because I aim to create movement across the canvas so that the viewer’s gaze is never stagnant. To achieve this, I have created systems and techniques that utilize color, shape, repetition, and text. I want the work to keep your attention.

    Deitch: Do you have a background as an athlete or a dancer? The rhythm is so physical.

    Abney: I played tennis. I still play tennis. I played soccer, basketball… I was always very athletic when I was younger, and I play the piano.

    Deitch: I didn’t know that. Do you have a classical training or was it more jazz piano?

    Abney: Classical, but I have always wanted to learn jazz. I have several cousins who were self-taught jazz [musicians].

    Deitch: Your improvisational talent goes into the painting?

    Abney: Yes.

    Deitch: Thatʼs so fascinating, because your paintings do have a sound, in a way.

    Abney: I would love to learn jazz. I recently bought some books and a piano to try to teach myself.

    Deitch: Did you get to the point where you were a performer also or was it more just your own study?

    Abney: With classical, I performed in recitals as a kid with my stepsister, who was, at the time, learning opera. It’s so wild when I think about it. We would do some recitals together, I would play and she would sing. Outside of that, after a certain point, I didn’t really take it up. I feel like I quit after I realized I needed glasses or something. That was in the ’80s, early childhood, but I kept with it. I can still play now.

    Deitch: Let’s talk about your trajectory. There’s an unusual year where you worked in a Ford factory, one of the only contemporary artists I know who actually had that kind of experience. It seems that and other aspects of your background had given you a sympathy for the working class. Your art addresses everyday people in the city, not only the art elite.

    Abney: I am everyday people, I come from everyday people. My mom worked for almost forty years at the unemployment agency, my stepfather delivered Pepsi®. I come from humble beginnings, so being catapulted into this elite art world has been interesting. I still feel like an outsider sometimes, though I am a part of this “art world.”

    “Untitled” (2019), monoprints, 65⅞ × 118⅞ inches. Artwork © the artist, courtesy of Pace Prints

    Deitch: A lot of your work has a strong social-political message. Iʼd like to ask you about how you integrate messaging with the formal aspects of the work.

    Abney: My whole way of working, from color, humor, and seducing the viewer into challenging topics in a way in which they want to stay, comes from my own experience with artwork. I noticed that with works that are overly didactic, people tend not to spend much time with them since they feel like they already have the work figured out. I want to create work that can be visually engaging: it can make you think, but also, provoke self-interrogation.

    Deitch: It’s also fascinating the way you invite entry into the work by your use of humor.

    Abney: When I was younger, I wanted to be a cartoonist. I love the most sarcastic animations. I was a big fan of Hanna-Barbera. Thatʼs where I got my sense of humor. With animation, you can walk the line of inappropriateness. I’m interested in that play, too.

    Deitch: Do you have some plans for an animated film?

    Abney: I actually wrote a cartoon with my partner, Jet Toomer, and our friend, Zoe Lister-Jones. We wrote a cartoon based off me and my younger sister’s relationship, but we threw a wrench in. We have turned the family structure thatʼs usually depicted in animation on its head.

    Deitch: It sounds brilliant. Maybe I can help you to make that happen.

    Abney: Maybe. I’m even thinking maybe a short film, centered around the same concept, and would love to do it at the Sundance Film Festival because they have an animation program. The film industry, from what I’ve learned, is so different, even in the approach to ownership and intellectual property. I feel like I’m more independent-minded when it comes to that, where Iʼd rather take the time and do it myself.

    Deitch: Well, thatʼs one of the greatest things about being an artist: You do not have a boss. Nobody’s telling you what you can do.

    Abney: I don’t want to have to compromise my vision to make things more mainstream. When you’re not conforming, people might see it as risky, but there are communities that are rarely considered in film and television and thatʼs who I would like to prioritize.

    Deitch: Fascinating. I anticipate you will be able to realize this.

    Abney: I hope so.

    “Guns and Butter” (2017), Unique UltraChrome pigmented print, acrylic, and spray paint on canvas, 96 × 72 inches. Artwork © the artist, courtesy of Mary Boone Gallery

    Deitch: In your approach to your art, there’s a lot of references from the vernacular—you mentioned strip clubs and sororities—but you also have so many deep art historical references. I imagine you’ve deeply studied Pablo Picasso, Romare Bearden, Stuart Davis… I want to ask you about these art historical references that you build on, that are inside your work, that you must have studied.

    Abney: Actually, funny story, Stuart Davis… I hadn’t even heard of him until I was working on a show called I DREAD TO THINK [October 18 – November 24, 2012, at Kravets Wehby Gallery, in collaboration with Anna Kustera Gallery, New York, NY]. When I was working on that show, Lowery Stokes Sims came to my studio and brought up Stuart Davis, assuming I was aware of his work. Immediately after that, I was obsessed. I didn’t know much about contemporary art until I came to New York for graduate school at Parsons School of Design.

    The first show I went to was a Marina Abramović performance at the Guggenheim and my mind was blown. Parsons was an intense education because I was playing catch up to the contemporary art history while trying to become a contemporary artist, myself.

    My references came from what was available to me when I was younger. I mean, everyone knows Picasso. I had field trips to the Art Institute of Chicago, where I learned about Chuck Close and Georges Seurat. I had some exposure to Black artists through The Cosby Show.

    Deitch: Really? From the TV show? Thatʼs fascinating. It must be thrilling for you to see your work influencing artists who are of the younger generation.

    Abney: It’s surreal to know that my work is being studied in classes. I still can’t believe it. Because I have become an influence to others, I feel a responsibility to keep pushing the boundaries of my own practice, exploring new mediums and delving into industries in which people who look like me aren’t represented. It’s crazy to think that I could be a part of art history. If you named the period of art we’re in now, what would it be? I don’t know…

    Deitch: Well, you’re one of the people defining it. Fascinating to know that you studied both computer science and art, because most artists, if you ask, “What did you study?” they’ll probably say poetry and art. I think maybe part of the rigor thatʼs in your work comes from this study of computer science. Could you elaborate a little bit about that, about the dual mind that you bring to your artwork?

    Abney: I intended on being a computer programmer because I couldn’t fathom having a career as an artist. I didn’t know how artists made money and I needed a sustainable job, but I didn’t like going to work. When I started the major, however, I quickly thought, “This isn’t for me.” It was hours of trying to figure out a program that may simply not work because of a missing semicolon.

    Everything happens for a reason. My grades were horrible. I was barely holding onto my computer science major. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I was helping a friend with his homework and he accidentally turned in a copy of my homework as his. When I get my assignment back from the professor, I have a big F written in red marker. I look at my friend like, “What happened?” The professor had circled my name on his paper—he also had an F. It was a major assignment, and she would not change my grade. That class was so vital, it put my major in jeopardy, so I dropped computer science and focused on art.

    I also wanted to be a graphic designer. I was learning how to design websites during my summers off. I thought, “Graphic design, thatʼs how I’ll get paid as an artist,” but when I got out of undergrad, I got pretty much rejected from every graphic design program I applied to. I worked for a little bit and thatʼs when I said, “Maybe I’ll try painting.” Thatʼs how that all came about.

    I still have a definite interest in graphic design… I feel like most people don’t realize that we were all teaching ourselves HTML code to create cool pages on Black Planet. We were learning HTML to play music play or feature graphics on our social media pages. I was fascinated by it.

    “I Am- Somebody” (2022), ciptych collage on panel, 85¾ × 61½ × 1⅜ inches each. Artwork © the artist, courtesy of Pace Prints

    Deitch: Prior to our talk, I was looking through the catalog of your exhibition at the Nasher Museum of Art. It’s very interesting to see how your work has evolved. The figures were much looser, Iʼd say a little less rhythmic in the composition, and progressively become more abstracted, the rhythms more complex. Iʼd like to ask you about the evolution of your work over this period.

    Abney: My work was always critiqued for being too flat, so I had a specific preconceived notion of what a “good” painting was, and that was one that was rendered realistically. The earlier work is a by-product of this mentality. Over the last twenty years, I have been moving away from this way of thinking and towards abstraction, which I feel is more freeing.

    Deitch: You’ve evolved a completely unique style thatʼs only you, that is instantly recognizable, which is quite an achievement.

    Abney: Thank you. It’s been a long journey to block out the noise and be in tune with my own voice.

    Deitch: You have your own artistic vocabulary thatʼs yours. It’s remarkable. Very few artists can achieve that.

    Abney: Thanks. I’m still trying to unlearn a few things that have been restrictive to my practice, but I feel like I’m now at 80 percent of my true artist voice. There’s still work to be done.

    How do I break this down to the simplest form? I try to remove unnecessary information to create a language that becomes universal.Nina Chanel Abney

    Deitch: It’s good that you still have another 20 percent to achieve. Something that fascinates me is that you’ve been able to put together a narrative, where some of your work tells a story with an abstract set of images. Thatʼs quite rare to be able to be narrative, bold, and abstract at the same time. I think thatʼs quite an achievement.

    Abney: When approaching my work that is representational, I aim to figure out the least amount of information needed. Thatʼs how I approach the imagery in my work now. For example, what’s the least amount of information needed for one to register a figure? How do I break this down to the simplest form? I try to remove unnecessary information to create a language that becomes universal.

    Deitch: Another characteristic of your work is the integration of text. You’re using text almost as an abstraction, but it also becomes an essential part of the narrative.

    Abney: I started using text because there are certain things I felt I just couldn’t paint. Some things just need to be said plainly. I also see letters and numbers as forms and shapes. I’m also interested in the use of text in advertisements.

    Deitch: I look at your work as taking Pop art into the present.

    Abney: I love Pop art, so thatʼs what I would hope to be achieving right now with my current work.

    The artist. Photo by Todd Midler

    Deitch: You’re expanding into other media—some ambitious sculpture is coming. Iʼd like to ask you about your sculpture in relationship to the painting.

    Abney: I’ve always wanted to work in sculpture, but I was waiting until the right moment. I could not figure how I could organically translate my paintings to sculpture. I had no idea what my sculpture was going to look like. It took so much time to figure it out and now it’s finally here.I took the first step by making a vinyl toy, which allowed me to see how my work could look three-dimensionally. That was the start and things have been quickly evolving. In the past year alone, I’ve made over ten sculptural works. Eventually, I want to do large public sculpture that can be interactive. I’m not necessarily interested in creating monuments, but works that people can sit on, sculpture that is functional.

    Deitch: I read some exciting news this week about your being selected as one of the artists commissioned for New York’s new John F. Kennedy International Airport terminal. It seemed that you were thinking of doing a sculpture.

    Abney: I am. I’m working with a material I’ve never worked with before, stained glass, inspired by New York City iconography.

    Deitch: That will be brilliant. Now, we’re here at Pace Prints in New York City for this conversation, and you’ve really reinvented how to make a print, how to make collage. I’m fascinated by how you’ve taken this well-traveled medium of all the artists who have made prints or works on paper and you’ve done it in a fresh way.

    Abney: I held out for years when it came to doing prints. Many printmakers or print shops would approach me and say, “You know, your work would translate so well to print-making,” and I would turn them down in hopes of working specifically with Pace Prints. Also, my understanding of prints was limited. When I thought of an edition, I only thought of an image of an existing work. So for the longest time, I was not interested in doing this.

    I got a C in my printmaking class. I didn’t have enough patience for the process. I did an etching, and it was the most tedious thing, so I never thought I would end up loving printmaking. Fortunately, I was introduced to [President of Pace Prints] Jacob Lewis and the printmakers of Pace Prints. I was blown away by the work that they were doing.

    We started working together, and it’s such a collaborative process. We challenge each other to think beyond traditional printmaking and create unique works that explore collage and expand the conversation around paper as a medium.

    Deitch: Well, your prints have the impact of complex paintings.

    Abney: Thatʼs what we hope to achieve.

    Deitch: Of all the important contemporary artists I follow, your work is sexier than almost anyone else’s, but it’s never vulgar. Iʼd like to ask you about how you insert the sexuality and the sexual power in the work in this strong way thatʼs elegant and impactful, but never vulgar.

    Abney: It comes from a sincere place of wanting to destigmatize the idea that sexuality is vulgar… and thatʼs one of the reasons I moved to New York—it’s forward-thinking energy fosters self-expression and challenges outdated norms.

    I’ve always wanted to tell you that when I first came [to New York] to go to graduate school, your gallery was one of the first that I went to. You had a show with Kehinde Wiley with a band that performed on Wooster Street and that blew my mind. It was a very impactful experience that expanded what I thought of art as an expression and as a career.

    Deitch: That was our goal, to inspire people. I really, really love hearing that it had such an impact on you.

    Abney: I have always wanted to work with you because your exhibitions are ambitious, fun, smart, and not so uptight. With our February 2025 show [Winging It], it’s a full circle moment.

    Deitch: Let’s close by talking about what you hope to realize in the next few years, expanding your work, both pushing the painting practice and also expanding into more popular areas.

    Abney: I want to prioritize sculpture and public work in the coming years. Right now, I’m very interested in installation. I’ve been thinking about Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Rooms—something more experiential that can travel. Also, animation production, and I can do something new in that space that hasn’t been done before. I’m also very much interested in creating more products, specifically, sneakers.

    Deitch: A lot to look forward to.

    Pick up a copy of Nina Chanel Abney, which will be released on October 23, in the Colossal Shop. Limited signed copies are available from Phaidon. Find more from the artist on her website and Instagram.

    Nina Chanel Abney. Photo by The Monacelli Press

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    Twelve Trailblazing Women Artists Transform Interior Spaces in ‘Dream Rooms’

    Aleksandra Kasuba, “Spectral Passage” (1975), reconstruction of Haus der Kunst München, 2023. Adapted reconstruction for the spaces of M+, 2025. Photo by Dan Leung, © Estate of Aleksandra Kasuba. All images courtesy of M+, Hong Kong, shared with permission

    Twelve Trailblazing Women Artists Transform Interior Spaces in ‘Dream Rooms’

    October 6, 2025

    Art

    Kate Mothes

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    With its roots in the conceptual and immersive experiments of the Dadaists and Surrealists in the early 20th century, installation art emerged as its own genre in the late 1950s. The approach gained momentum during the next couple of decades, usually revolving around site-specific responses to interior spaces. Taking many forms, installations sometimes incorporate light, sound, projections, performances, and participatory or immersive elements.

    “While many of these works were made by women, histories of art havetended to focus on male artists,” says a statement from M+ in Hong Kong, which is currently presenting Dream Rooms: Environments by Women Artists 1950s-Now. The show “addresses this imbalance by foregrounding the visionary contributions of women artists.”

    Pinaree Sanpitak, “The House Is Crumbling” (2017/2025), © Pinaree Sanpitak

    Dream Rooms features 12 room-scale installations created by artists located across four continents. Originating at Haus der Kunst München in 2023 with the title Inside Other Spaces, the exhibition then traveled to M+, where the artworks have been reconstructed.

    Some pieces date back several decades, like Yamazaki Tsuruko’s “Red (shape of mosquito net)” from 1956 and Aleksandra Kasuba’s “Spectral Passage” from 1975. “The exhibition explores forms and ideas that speak to their time, while also encouraging visitors to explore, laugh, wonder, or embrace feelings of unease,” the museum says.

    Three new works have been commissioned from three Asian artists specifically for this exhibition. These include Pinaree Sanpitak’s “The House Is Crumbling,” which was first conceived in 2017 and is reimagined for Dream Rooms. Chiharu Shiota’s “Infinite Memory” features a cascade of the artist’s signature red string, and Kimsooja’s atmospheric “To Breathe” is composed of translucent film on window that diffracts the light into prismatic patterns around the museum.

    Dream Rooms continues through January 18, 2026. Find more on the museum’s website. You might also enjoy exploring more site-specific work by women artists featured in Groundswell: The Women of Land Art.

    Yamazaki Tsuruko, “Red (shape of mosquito net)” (1956), © Estate of Tsuruko Yamazaki. Photo by Agostino Osio–Alto Piano, courtesy of Haus der Kunst München

    Kimsooja, “To Breathe” (2022), © Kimsooja, courtesy of Studio Kimsooja

    Aleksandra Kasuba, “Spectral Passage” (1975), © Estate of Aleksandra Kasuba. Photo by Constantin Mirbach, courtesy of Haus der Kunst München

    Chiharu Shiota, “Internal Line” (2024). Image © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn and Chiharu Shiota, courtesy of the artist

    Judy Chicago, “Feather Room” (1966), © Chicago Woodman LLC, Judy Chicago. Photo by Lok Cheng

    Pinaree Sanpitak, “The House Is Crumbling” (2017/2025), © Pinaree Sanpitak

    Marta Minujín, “¡Revuélquese y viva!” (1964), © Marta Minujín

    Lea Lublin, “Penetración / Expulsión (del Fluvio Subtunal)” (1970)

    Marta Minujín, “¡Revuélquese y viva!”
    (1964), © Marta Minujín.
    Photo by Lok Cheng, courtesy of M+, Hong Kong

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    Calder Gardens, a Light-Filled Museum and Prairie, Houses the Sculptor’s Work in Philadelphia

    All artwork © Alexander Calder. All photos by Iwan Baan, courtesy of Calder Gardens, shared with permission

    Calder Gardens, a Light-Filled Museum and Prairie, Houses the Sculptor’s Work in Philadelphia

    October 3, 2025

    Art

    Grace Ebert

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    Alexander Calder’s most widely recognized creation is perhaps the mobile. The lauded artist was a titan of Modernism whose desire to “draw” three-dimensional objects spirited the invention of what went on to become both an art historical achievement and a ubiquitous nursery item. Broadly interested in movement and space, Calder (1898–1976) is often cited as one of the most influential artists of the 20th century.

    Now, his work finds a new home in a sprawling museum in Philadelphia, the city where his family lived for generations and where he was born. Located on Benjamin Franklin Parkway, Calder Gardens comprises a 1.8-acre landscape and an 18,000-square-foot building that presents a rotating selection of the artist’s works.

    The museum is designed to bring art, architecture, and nature into a constant and ever-evolving conversation. Outdoor sculptures stand amid a lush prairie by Piet Oudolf, while architecture firm Herzog & de Meuron created an interior that interacts with Calder’s sculptures. Large-scale pieces loom inside airy concrete galleries, while smaller mobiles seem to nest perfectly in a well-lit opening.

    Calder Gardens is open Wednesday through Monday. Find more on its website.

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    Innumerable Dots Form Bright, Bold Gradients in Nano Ponto’s Entirely Handpoked Tattoos

    All images courtesy of Nano Ponto, shared with permission

    Innumerable Dots Form Bright, Bold Gradients in Nano Ponto’s Entirely Handpoked Tattoos

    October 2, 2025

    ArtIllustration

    Grace Ebert

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    In the hands of Argentinian tattooer Nano Ponto, lush gradients and surreal compositions emerge from layers and layers of tiny dots. Entirely self-taught, Ponto never learned to use the machines typical for many artists working in the medium. He instead embarked on an experimental journey 13 years ago that has since produced a vibrant catalog of designs, from a grayscale eye crying primary colors or a vivid beam shooting from a flying saucer.

    Ponto shares that while his process is typically slower than that of artists who utilize machines, his tools and approach are simple. “I just have to layer dots until I reach my desired saturation and look, which varies from skin to skin and the tattoo’s characteristics,” he says. “I use several kinds of needles to play with dot width, resolution, tattooing depth, ink saturation, and a few more variables to create my designs.”

    While based in Buenos Aires, Ponto has spent the past few years moving between Europe, Mexico, and the U.S. Travel has been essential to his development from the beginning because most artists work with newer technologies and don’t share the same technical approaches. “Ten years ago, it was key for me to start traveling to meet other handpoked tattoo artists to share experience and knowledge, as there was no one in Argentina I could do this with,” he adds.

    Ponto’s latest travels have brought him to Brooklyn, where he’s a guest resident this month at Atelier Eva. Find more about his availability and bold designs on Instagram.

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    Explore Trailblazing Street Photography in ‘Faces in the Crowd’ at MFA Boston

    Dawoud Bey, “A Man and Two Women After a Church Service” (1976), photograph, gelatin silver print. Gift of David W. Williams and Eric Ceputis. © Dawoud Bey, photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. All images courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, shared with permission

    Explore Trailblazing Street Photography in ‘Faces in the Crowd’ at MFA Boston

    October 2, 2025

    ArtHistoryPhotography

    Kate Mothes

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    When playwright Tennessee Williams reflected on the oeuvre of photographer Stephen Shore in 1982, he said, “His work is Nabokovian for me: Exposing so much and yet leaving so much room for your imagination to roam and do what it will.” The sentiment mirrors not only the power of Shore’s work but the capacity of street photography, more broadly, to provoke wonder and curiosity where we least expect it: the everyday.

    Shore was among the first to adopt color photography as an artistic medium, traveling throughout America to document quotidian scenes of life in rural towns and big cities alike. His work followed behemoths of the medium like Walker Evans and Robert Frank and set the stage for others who emerged in his footsteps, including Alec Soth, Nan Goldin, and Martin Parr, among many others.

    Stephen Shore, “El Paso Street, El Paso, Texas, July 5, 1975” (1975), photograph, chromogenic print. Museum purchase with funds donated by Scott Offen. © Stephen Shore, photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Shore is included in Faces in the Crowd: Street Photography at Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, which explores the ever-evolving techniques and approaches that photographers use to document people and daily life. Seminal works from the 1970s to the 1990s by Shore, Garry Winogrand, Helen Levitt, Dawoud Bey, and Yolanda Andrade, among others, are complemented by more recent contributions to the genre by artists like Parr, Luc Delahaye, Katy Grannan, Amani Willett, and Zoe Strauss.

    Today, smartphones with powerful digital cameras have made photography more accessible than ever—and also completely transformed the medium. With people always unabashedly filming—taking photos, making videos, posting to social media—in the city, “photographers are now less concerned with surreptitiously capturing an image and much more likely to collaborate with their subjects in the street,” the MFA says.

    The difference between snapshots and art is perhaps partly in intention, although that line is often purposely blurred. Bey’s striking “A Man and Two Women After a Church Service,” for example, captures a seemingly simple scene, yet the composition and clarity are a testament to timing and technical expertise. In what feels like simultaneously a public and private moment, the 1976 image glimpses both a particular scene and an American historical period.

    Whether taken decades ago or snapped within the past few years, the images in Faces in the Crowd invite us into each experience. Luc Delahaye’s “Taxi,” for example, captures a solemn, intimate, enigmatic moment as a mother holds her young son in her arms in the back of a vehicle.

    Luc Delahaye, “Taxi” (2016), photograph, chromogenic print. Museum purchase with funds donated by Richard and Lucille Spagnuolo. Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Yasuhiro Ishimoto’s crowd photo, taken from the hip, immerses us in the thrum of a city thoroughfare. And Yolanda Andrade captures an uncanny blip when a street performer disappears behind the unsettlingly large head of a puppet. The MFA says, “Drawn to photography’s narrative potential, many employ the camera as a tool of transformation, taking everyday pictures from the ordinary to the strangely beautiful or even ominous.”

    Faces in the Crowd opens on October 11 and runs through July 13, 2026. Find more on the museum’s website. You might also enjoy A Sense of Wonder, a monograph of the work of Joel Meyerowitz that was just released by SKIRA.

    Yasuhiro Ishimoto “Untitled (71 1879B)” (about 1967), photograph, gelatin silver print, printed in the 1980s. Gift of David W. Williams and Eric Ceputis. Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Cristobal Hara, “Cuenca (Crowded Bus)” (about 1973), photograph, gelatin silver print. Gift of Peter Soriano. © Cristóbal Hara, photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Helen Levitt, “New York” (1976, printed 1993), photograph, dye transfer color print. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Graham Gund. © Helen Levitt Film Documents LLC. Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Yolanda Andrade, “La revisitación o nueva revelación” (1986), silver gelatin print. Museum purchase with funds donated by Elizabeth and Michael Marcus. © Yolanda Andrade, photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Joel Sternfeld, “New York City (# 1), 1976” (1976), photograph, pigment print. Gift of Ralph and Nancy Segall. © Joel Sternfeld, reproduction courtesy of Luhring Augustine Gallery. Courtesy of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Michael Spano, Untitled, from the ‘Diptych Series’ (1999), photograph, gelatin silver print. Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation Fund for Photography, reproduced with permission. Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

    Matthew Connors, “Pyongyang” from the series ‘Unanimous Desires’ (2013), photograph, inkjet print. Museum purchase with funds donated by Scott Offen. Courtesy of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

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    World War II Journal Entries Float in a Web of Blood-Red Yarn in Chiharu Shiota’s ‘Diary’

    Installation view of ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025. Photos by Go Sugimoto. All images courtesy of the artist and Japan Society Gallery, shared with permission

    World War II Journal Entries Float in a Web of Blood-Red Yarn in Chiharu Shiota’s ‘Diary’

    October 2, 2025

    ArtHistory

    Kate Mothes

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    Commemorating the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II, Berlin-based artist Chiharu Shiota presents a poignant suite of large-scale works in Two Home Countries at Japan Society Gallery. That artist is known for her immersive string installations, inviting us into emotive, atmospheric experiences that tap into both universal and deeply personal narratives.

    In Two Home Countries, viewers enter a vivid world shaped by red thread, redolent of intertwined veins and blood vessels that attach to the floor, take on the shapes of houses, and spread through an entire room with a cloud-like aura of red—filled with written pages. Themes of memory, mortality, connection, identity, and belonging weave through Shiota’s pieces, exploring “how pain, displacement, boundaries, and existential uncertainty shape the human condition and our understanding of self,” the gallery says.

    Detail of “Diary” (2025) in ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025

    An expansive, room-sized work titled “Diary,” which is based on an earlier installation and commissioned anew for Two Home Countries, incorporates a dense web of yarn in which float pages of journals that once belonged to Japanese soldiers. Some were also penned by German civilians in the post-war era. “The accumulated pages reveal an expansive record of shared human existence across national boundaries,” the gallery says.

    “When the body is gone, the objects which surrounded them remain behind,” Shiota says in a statement. “As I wander the stalls of the markets in Berlin, I find especially personal items like photographs, old passports, and personal diaries. Once, I found a diary from 1946, which was an intimate insight into the person’s life and experiences.” For Shiota, the power of these objects are revealed in how she feels the presence of writer’s “inner self.”

    Two Home Countries is on view through January 11 in New York City. Plan your visit on the Japan Society’s website, and find more on Shiota’s site and Instagram.

    Installation view of ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025

    Installation view of ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025

    Installation view of ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025

    Installation view of ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025

    Detail of “Two Home Countries” (2025) in ‘Chiharu Shiota: Two Home Countries’ at Japan Society Gallery, New York, 2025

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    Lakota and Western Art History Converge in Dyani White Hawk’s Vibrant Works

    “Wopila | Lineage II” (2023), acrylic, glass beads, synthetic sinew, and thread on aluminum panel, 96 x 120 inches. Gochman Family Collection. Photo by Rik Sferra. All images courtesy of Alexander Gray Associates, New York, and Bockley Gallery, Minneapolis, shared with permission

    Lakota and Western Art History Converge in Dyani White Hawk’s Vibrant Works

    October 1, 2025

    Art

    Kate Mothes

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    Throughout history, those who wield the most power or resources are typically the ones whose stories are represented in textbooks, passed down through generations, and etched into our collective consciousness. Without intentional effort, it can be difficult to hear more than a single narrative.

    In art history, the reality is much the same. The canon has always privileged white male artists, from titans of the Renaissance like Michelangelo to bad-boy American Modernists like Jackson Pollock. The foundations of 19th-century American landscape painting, for example, are inextricable from the belief in Manifest Destiny, as the American government violently expanded westward. And Western painting and sculpture have historically reigned supreme in the market-driven hallows of galleries and auction houses. But what of the incredible breadth of—namely Indigenous—art forms that have long been overlooked?

    “Visiting” (2024), acrylic, glass beads, thread, and synthetic sinew on aluminum panel with a quartz base, 120 x 15.5 x 15.5 inches (base 5 x 24 x 24 inches). Collection of the Denver Art Museum. Photo by Rik Sferra

    For Sičáŋǧu Lakota artist Dyani White Hawk, the construction of American art history lies at the core of her multidisciplinary practice. “She lays bare the exclusionary hierarchies that have long governed cultural legitimacy, authority, value, and visibility,” says a joint statement from Alexander Gray Associates and Bockley Gallery. “In this light, White Hawk reframes Indigenous art and Western abstraction as inseparable practices—linked by a shared history that dominant narratives have labored to separate and obscure.”

    Pablo Picasso is credited with the saying, “Good artists copy, great artists steal.” Seminal paintings like “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon” and others created in the early 1900s would not exist if it were not for his fascination with African masks. White Hawk draws a similar parallel between the 20th-century Color Field and Minimalism movements to highlight the influence of Native American art forms in the evolution of these styles. She prompts viewers to consider how these notions shape our aesthetic perceptions and judgment while also considering the role of cultural memory and community.

    White Hawk’s work spans painting, sculpture, photography, performance, and installations. Alongside oil and acrylic paint, she incorporates materials commonly used in Lakota art forms, like beads, porcupine quills, and buckskin.

    “I strive to create honest, inclusive works that draw from the breadth of my life experiences,” White Hawk says in a statement, merging influences from Native and non-Native, urban, academic, and cultural education systems. She continues: “This allows me to start from center, deepening my own understanding of the intricacies of self and culture, correlations between personal and national history, and Indigenous and mainstream art histories.”

    “Nourish” (2024), ceramic tile installation of handmade tiles by Mercury Mosaics, 174 x 369 1/2 inches. Collection of the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; purchase, with funds from the Whitney Acquisition Fund 2024.13

    Mirroring the meditative labor and incredible attention to detail required to create traditional Lakota artworks—from elaborately beaded garments to abstract buckskin paintings—White Hawk creates energetic installations that are bold and confrontational. Vibrant geometric patterns are direct and visceral in a way that “unsettles the categories of Eurocentric art history,” the galleries say.

    White Hawk notes that her mixed-media canvases honor “the importance of the contributions of Lakota women and Indigenous artists to our national artistic history…as well as the ways in which Indigenous artists helped shape the evolution of the practices of Western artists who were inspired by their work.”

    “Nourish,” an installation that spans nearly 31 feet wide and 14.5 feet tall, comprises thousands of handmade ceramic tiles that visually reference Lakota beadwork and quillwork. Permanently installed at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York, the piece enters into a dialogue with the history of American Modernism through painters such as Marsden Hartley and Pollock, who are credited as trailblazers of American abstraction and yet were indelibly influenced by Native American art.

    Detail of “Visiting.” Collection of the Denver Art Museum. Photo by Rik Sferra

    “At its core, White Hawk’s practice is sustained by ancestral respect and guided by value systems that center relationality and care for all life,” the galleries say. “By addressing inequities affecting Native communities, she creates opportunities for cross-cultural connection and prompts a critical examination of how artistic and national histories have been constructed. Her work invites viewers to evaluate current societal value systems and their capacity to support equitable futures.”

    Minneapolis-based Bockley Gallery, which has represented White Hawk for more than a decade, has recently announced co-representation of the artist with New York City-based Alexander Gray Associates, where she’ll present a solo exhibition in fall 2026. If you’re in Minneapolis, Love Language opens on October 18 at the Walker Art Center and continues through February 15. The show then travels to Remai Modern in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, where it will be on view from April 25 to September 27, 2026. See more on White Hawk’s website.

    Installation view of ‘Whitney Biennial 2022: Quiet as It’s Kept (Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, April 6 to September 5, 2022). “Wopila | Lineage” (2022), acrylic, glass beads, and synthetic sinew on aluminum panel, 96 9/16 x 168 3/8 inches. Photo by Ron Amstutz

    “Carry IV” (2024), buckskin, synthetic sinew and thread, glass beads, brass sequins, copper vessel, copper ladle, and acrylic paint, 123 x 12 x 10 inches. Collection of the Baltimore Museum of Art. Photo by Rik Sferra

    Detail of “Carry IV.” Collection of the Baltimore Museum of Art. Photo by Rik Sferra

    Installation view of “I Am Your Relative” (2020) in ‘Sharing the Same Breath,’ John Michael Kohler Arts Center, Sheboygan, WI, 2023. Courtesy of the John Michael Kohler Arts Center

    Detail of “Visiting.” Collection of the Denver Art Museum. Photo by Rik Sferra

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    Craig & Karl’s ‘Mateys’ Bring Vibrancy and Joy to Bridges in Brisbane and Beyond

    Detail of “Converge.” Photo by Alex Chomicz

    Craig & Karl’s ‘Mateys’ Bring Vibrancy and Joy to Bridges in Brisbane and Beyond

    October 1, 2025

    ArtDesign

    Kate Mothes

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    In vibrant colors, patterns, and shapes, the immersive works of Craig & Karl invite us to relish moments of joy and surprise. While Craig is based in New York, and Karl is based in London, the two collaborate across the pond—and around the world—to produce multimedia installations that revitalize urban spaces and celebrate the power of play.

    As part of the 2025 Brisbane Festival, Craig & Karl created a pair of large-scale inflatable interventions on two of the city’s bridges, both riffing on the idea of the arch as passageway. Additionally, numerous illustrations, interactive sculptures, and inflatable “Mateys” — a series of quirky characters with expressive faces — pop up on buildings and sidewalks to enable joyful encounters as part of the expansive, city-wide exhibition titled Rear Vision.

    “Walk This Way” (2025), Kangaroo Point Bridge, Brisbane. Photo by JD Lin

    Collectively titled “Walk This Way,” the bridge installations encourage Brisbanites to see their city with fresh eyes. The expressive, flexible characters are also immanently relatable for viewers of all ages. “The Mateys serve as companions that help foster community and shared experiences, welcoming us into different corners of the city,” says a festival statement.

    Craig & Karl are known for their vivid participatory projects, which range from mini-golf courses to playgrounds to murals. The artists initially met 30 years ago while studying at Griffith University in Brisbane, and since, their collaborative practice has included partnerships with global brands and publications like Adidas, Nike, Apple, Chanel, The New Yorker, Variety, and more.

    While the bridge installations came to a close at the end of September, you can still stroll along the Public Art Trail through October 20 to spot Craig & Karl’s sculptures and installations in unexpected places. Then, drop by the exhibition Double Vision at the Griffith University Art Museum, which continues through January 7.

    Plot your course on the Brisbane Festival website, and see more of the artists’ projects on their site and Instagram.

    “Mateys” (2025), part of ‘Rear Vision’ Public Art Trail, Brisbane. Photo by Claudia Baxter

    “Mateys” (2025), part of ‘Rear Vision’ Public Art Trail, Brisbane. Photo by Alex Chomicz

    Detail of “Converge.” Photo by Alex Chomicz

    “Converge” (2025), Neville Bonner Bridge, Brisbane. Photo by JD Lin

    “Prismatic,” Tsuen Wan, Hong Kong

    Detail of “Unfold,” Suzhou, China

    “Cosmos,” Melbourne Central, Melbourne

    Detail of “Cosmos”

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