Category Archives: ART


Daisy Hildyard in The Second Body: “Your body is infecting the world—you leak.” Shahryar Nashat once—not long ago—followed up with the question: “Where are the fluids?” The query remains unresolved; the leak has surged to a deluge. And we are drowning in it. The fluids, it seems, have been collected from carcasses drained of life, strung up on the disassembly line, packaged, contained, sealed, and ready for consumption. These are our surrogate selves suffocated in fat on a landscape of desolation and decay. This is an organic death: ethically sourced, carbon-neutral. Ed Smith: “I’m in no moo’d / said the cow.” (For Bruce Hainley.) There is a moment just before a body becomes flesh, before it becomes meat and bone, and then becomes simply matter. This is the threshold between life and death, when the body has been stripped of its faculties. An inert substance lacks the burden of memories. In a recent poem, Joyce Carol Oates writes: “The stroke / that wipes out / memory / is another word / for mercy.” We want to be nothing inside, we want to be merciful. Abstraction is just another word for dismemberment.

THEY COME TO TOUCH is the title of an exhibition by Shahryar Nashat. Taking place in a suite of vacated offices, the assembly of sculpture and video situates itself within the accretions of the building’s past life. Papier-mâché carcasses congregate and hang from the ceiling in concert with bags of urine and colorful rough-hewn cubes. The piss and “memory boxes” are accessories to the various accumulations, occupying the margins and corners throughout the multi-floor unit in which the exhibition takes place. A disembodied soundtrack floats in and out of earshot, animating the sculptures and finding interludes of synchronicity with a seventeen-second video that shows a figure falling to its knees, keeling over, and dying a digital death. The figure is trapped by this scenario—an endless sequence of three falling episodes, infinitely repeating in a simulated environment that takes its cues from the disused office where THEY COME TO TOUCH is situated. On occasion, the sound and image find their way to one another, and the figure falls in unison with a pulsating composition, which includes the exuberant rhythmic percussion of Maurice Ravel’s Bólero and a sorrowful lament by the cosmic superstar Dee D. Jackson. The ambient presence of sound permeates the exhibition and gives life to the sculptures just as easily as it maintains that they are wholly dead inside. — Aram Moshayedi

See link below for details.


Through May 2.

8762 Holloway Drive

West Hollywood.

Shahryar Nashat, They Come to Touch, 8762 Holloway Drive, April 8, 2021–May 2, 2021. Artwork images © Shahryar Nashat, courtesy of the artist.


I want my work to be universally understood. Not necessarily appreciated but somehow to connect with people universally—which I think is a very utopic, if not moronic, approach to making art. [Laughter] But it’s something I aspire to. I think a lot of times, even beyond issues of race and gender and stuff like that, I’m also really interested in issues of humanity, and these utopic, kooky ideas of how [if] we can all come to understand each other, life will be better. — Alison Saar*

Join Hamza Walker in conversation with Alison Saar and Hank Willis Thomas., presented by the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art.

See link below to register for this online event.


Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art at the University of Oregon

Thursday, April 15.

4 pm on the West Coast, 7 pm East Coast.

*Alison Saar, from forthcoming feature in PARIS LA 17.

From top: Alison Saar, Queen of the 88s, 2021, multi-block linocut on handmade Hamada Kozo paper backed with Sekishu Kozo, image © Alison Saar, courtesy of the artist and Elizabeth Leach Gallery, Portland; Saar, photograph by Paul O’Connor, courtesy of Saar and LA Louver; Hank Willis Thomas, courtesy and © Hank Willis Thomas Studio; Thomas, History is Past, Past is Present, 2017, print, lenticular, image © Hank Willis Thomas, courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery.


Trees are embodied water, bodies of water, petrified fire, water on fire. A tree is a sculpture with no author, a sculpture of water… changing from seed, to plant, to tree, to log, to board, to frame, to building, to pulp, to paper, to ash, to dirt, and back again. — Oscar Tuazon*

An exhibition of new sculptural works by Tuazon is on view in Tribeca through mid-April. See link below.


Through April 17.

Luhring Augustine Tribeca

17 White Street, New York City.

Oscar Tuazon, People, Luhring Augustine Tribeca, March 13, 2021–April 17, 2021, from top: NO ON, 2021, spruce and cedar; Oil City (Red Oak), 2021, charred wood post with Aqua-Resin; Tree of Smoke, 2021, mixed media; Oscar Tuazon, People, installation view; Sand Hammer, 2021, cast bronze; Natural Man, 2015/2021, bronze, fiberglass concrete, electric water pump. Images © Oscar Tuazon, courtesy of the artist and Luhring Augustine.


In the show SIGHS AND LEERS AND CROCODILE TEARS—now in its final week in Los Angeles—Sula Bermúdez-Silverman “explores the expansive use of monsters ––in particular zombies–– and haunted spaces in the horror genre as metaphors for the actions societal systems inflict upon groups of people on a spiritual and physical level.”*


Through April 10.


1411 Newton Street, downtown Los Angeles.

Sula Bermúdez-Silverman, Sighs and Leers and Crocodile Tears, Murmurs, Los Angeles, March 7, 2021–April 10, 2021, from top: Porthole 2 (Parentheses of Blood), 2021, isomalt sugar, found object; Paradise Regained, 2021, isomalt sugar and glass found object; The Monster’s Bride (She’s Alive!), 2020, wool and viscose yarn; Repository II: Dead Ringer, 2021 (detail), glass, Himalayan pink salt, water; installation view with (foreground) Turning Heel, 2021, Himalayan pink salt, isomalt sugar, glass found object, (center) Repository I: Mother, 2021, isomalt sugar, Himalayan pink salt, epoxy resin, found object, and (against wall) Lady with the Ring, 2021, glass, carpenter bee; Carrefour Pietà/Be My Victim, 2021 (detail), wool and acrylic yarn; To Fear a Painted Devil’s Trumpet, 2021, Himalayan pink salt, kosher salt, sea salt, glass, carpenter bees, crushed emerald, Devil’s Trumpet seed pods (Datura inoxia), Devil’s Trumpet seeds (Datura inoxia), raw sugar; Porthole 6 (Julian’s Hatchet), 2021, isomalt sugar, epoxy resin, transparency film. Images © Sula Bermúdez-Silverman, courtesy of the artist and Murmurs.


To perceive something you have to visualize it. For me, working is putting together images that move you, and so on, but then you have to have a way to describe it to yourself. And it’s been marvelous. There are themes that go through my work for twenty or thirty years, but they take different forms. When I was a kid growing up on the Outer Island [Connecticut], the horizon was a very powerful thing for me. My father, we were in a boat together and he said to me, “That’s not a straight line. That’s the edge of the earth,” and that stuck with me forever. — Susan Weil

The exhibition SUSAN WEIL, in upstate New York, brings together the artist’s spray paint works on paper, her Soft Folds series on unstretched canvas, the Configurations collages, as well as a selection of her artist’s books published with Vincent Fitzgerald & Co.


Through April 17.


17 Mandalay Drive, Garrison.

Susan Weil, JDJ, Garrison, February 27, 2021–April 17, 2021, from top: Untitled, circa 1971, spray paint on paper; Flower Folds, 1991, acrylic on canvas; Black Configuration, 2000 (detail), charcoal, watercolor, and acrylic on paper; Color Configurations 2 (Red), 2000, acrylic on paper; Susan Weil installation view; Susan Weil installation view with (foreground) Brideship & Gulls, 1991, text by James Joyce, handmade artist book with gold leaf, etchings, and watercolor; Moon (Half Moon), 1990 (detail), acrylic on canvas; Untitled, circa 1971, spray paint on paper. Images © Susan Weil, courtesy of the artist and JDJ.