Installation view of Pat Lay’s exhibition at the Lemmerman Gallery, NJCU
At first sight, Pat Lay’s vertical scrolls sit comfortably within the soaring Gothic-style Lemmerman Gallery at New Jersey City University. Their mosaic or tapestry-like forms, in glowing red, blue, and gold, echo the tall grided window panes and the elaborate ceiling. Yet once it becomes clear that these scrolls are entirely digital, the contrast generates a sense of fertile dualities.
Carl Cheng, Alternative TV #3, 1974-2016. Plastic chassis, acrylic water tank, air pump, LED lighting and controller, electrical cord, aquarium hardware, conglomerated rocks, and plastic plants. Courtesy of the artist and Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles
I often think about the first scientist who looked into a microscope and saw the dividing of cells, the jiggle of bacteria, and the movement of microorganisms. They must have marveled at the invisible worlds that were revealed. Similar to uncovering fossils of long-extinct species, we are humbled when we discover that we are only a tiny part of a much larger story. These monumental confrontations move us emotionally as much as they do intellectually, evoking within us a sense of awe and wonder. Close Encounters at Box Spring Gallery and Carl Cheng: Nature Never Loses at the Institute of Contemporary Art both ask us to consider our position within the cosmos, drawing attention to the fragility of our existence and the complicated ecosystems in which we live. Turning inward, allow yourself to be nourished by Ann Wehrwein’s Tender Ground at Pentimenti, where she renders quiet moments of everyday life with layers of color and care.
Judy Pfaff has never played by the rules—her art bends them, her teaching breaks them, and her career is proof she never needed them. A MacArthur “Genius” who reshaped installation art, she has spent five decades throwing order out the window in favor of energy, movement, and sheer creative force. That ethos is on full display at Art Cake in Brooklyn, where Pfaff and three former students have reunited—not in a classroom, but as equals in a space that refuses to sit still.
Recenter is a delightful return to Impressionism in many ways. Prioleau-Martin chooses for her subject matter decidedly impressionistic themes—moments at home, moments of introspection, and unrehearsed tenderness, all the casual yet poignant subject matter that marked painting’s initial move from the historic and fantastical to the everyday and human in the 1870s. She also employs the paint with a focus to capture the spur of the moment and the unexpected. Her small-scale ceramics, composed on the templates of stock sculptural types—odalisques, Rodin-like romantic poses, and busts, are, by virtue of their Lilliputian size and wit, Impressionist re-interpretations of dry classic forms. They start out as one thing and shift mid-stream into another: this is particularly evident in Prioleau-Martin’s bust Self-portrait (2024) which masquerades as a planter with fabric and wire vegetal tendrils emanating from her cranium along with her braids.
Kariann Fuqua, Emergent Strategies: In Defense of Weeds, 2025. installation shot: front gallery. Image credit, Brad Farwell
In her latest exhibition, Emergent Strategies: In Defense of Weeds, Kariann Fuqua invites viewers to reconsider their relationship with the natural world—specifically the wild plants we so often dismiss as nuisances. Through a collection of drawings, photographs and found objects gathered from her acre of land in Mississippi, Fuqua examines the ecological and cultural narratives tied to “weeds,” challenging the capitalist obsession with control that underpins the American lawn.
Jim Condron’s exhibition at the New York Studio School, curated by Karen Wilkin, continues his consistently thoughtful Collected Things series, inviting viewers to see everyday objects as vessels of personal and cultural memory. The sculptures, varying in size from around 20 to 96 inches, playfully transform seemingly ordinary items into layered narratives that bring unexpected elements together.
Hassan Sharif, Gathering at Alexander Gray Associates
Alternative worlds abound, collide, and gravitate in a transfixing lineup that is circumspect of the new year and ruminations of what lies ahead. Unique in presentation, yet united in exploring the vulnerabilities of coexistence amidst a delicate balance, their clandestine orbits intersect and align around the precarity of humanity. Shape-shifting, portals, relics, and worlds collide and mystify in alchemical formulations. As our planet spins on an axis beyond human capacity, one can find solace and pleasure in the mystery and adventure that awaits through these masterful and delightful odysseys of discovery. Michael Brennan and Matthew Deleget create pathways of knowledge through otherworldly means. David Dixon melds stories seamlessly that serve as portals into realms that might exist in such a world.
My Right Hands and Your Left Hand, Cooking with Joshua Kun Kyung Sok. 2025.
Kun Kyung Sok’s latest performance, “My Right Hand and Your Left Hand,” held at Space 776, invites audiences into an intimate and aromatic exploration of collaboration, creativity, and trust. The performance centers on Kun and her co-performer (a rolling cast of artists and non-artists) working together to prepare kimbap, a traditional Korean dish, using only her right hand and the other participant’s left hand. On opening night, while the salted streets of the Lower East Side froze, Kun’s audience huddled in close to witness a warm scene of clumsy vulnerability and palpable humor. “Armed” with a single knife, the two performers navigated the challenges of mutual control, toppling salt shakers and spilling rice, all the while the hypnotic scent of freshly prepared food permeated the space.
Katerina Lanfranco is a painter most known for her magical and fantastical colorful paintings. She recently embarked on a new challenge in her solo show Snowed-In, which is one of her most ambitious projects yet, as she let her viewers in on the process.
Untitled, 2023, Digital image etched into glass, paint. 20 x 20.
Jennifer Trask’s materials—whether bone, wood, metal, or antique fragments—function as collaborators in her sculpting process. Their physical properties and embedded histories guide her decisions, shaping how she responds to their density, grain, and structural limits.