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Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Ximena Garrido-Lecca’s "Germinations" closes later today. It’s an exhibition that carries time within itself in various ways...
At its center is what looks like a huge piece of earth cut from the ground and somehow spirited to the Ren: a potato field just after harvest. Over two months, potatoes having been sprouting, sending up green shoots.
The show also has its own internal rhythms, every day: a potato boiling, one by one; the cycles of our Ren attendants in the gallery, including the making of domestic offerings out of dried potato dust and plaster, which have been accumulating in the corner. Visitors can join them. (A huge thank you to @recycled_earth_lord @muertahuerta @eleonorezski)
All of this is inspired in different ways by Andean traditions in what is now Peru, where Ximena is from. She weaves together elements from Andean cosmology, agricultural practices and rituals, systems of measurement from the long past, colonial times, and the present. It touches on different concepts of space-time, both ancient Andean and those of modern physics.
The phrase “research-based artist” floats around but it can mean many different things. At its best I think it points to an unflagging curiosity and a set of underlying processes: seeking more knowledge, searching for new sources, canny dot connecting, digging up surprising details that spark revelations—and then transforming discovery into new forms. Ximena’s work embodies this to me.
I have loved living with Ximena’s show over time, as it cycles continually and evolves. It draws on the artist’s well of knowledge, fed by her own investigations, and yet, at heart, it is thoroughly a sculptural installation, every detail thoughtfully resolved. An overture of dirt, potato, aluminum, steel, plaster, time, and steam, even before you get to the backstories.
All photos by @bob.mov
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork & Laetitia Sonami
The experience of a sound work unfolding over five hours, using eighteen speakers, like Jackie and Laetitia’s at the Ren, is made for the ears and the body, impossible to really picture here. Imagine a transformative experience that turns out to be an almost private one, yours alone, even in a room with other people.
They turned this large room into a sound field with seemingly innumerable fine-tuned sources. Close your eyes and it was like a summer night or a jungle, alive everywhere. A subtle expansiveness that felt boundless. Not so evident at first, but the sound was always changing. They were doing it live. You would realize you're hearing something new. Now a low thrum and pulse, like machinery from below. Static rising until it was crashing over the space like ocean waves. All of it was synthetic: evocative, like you knew it in your ear, but none of it recorded.
They described the project as “an exercise in restraint”: a small number of elements at any given moment, mostly at low volumes. (Though a few times subwoofers swelled and filled everything to the brim.) The work surrounds you. Sink into it. I remember my own restlessness at first and then my racing mind letting go. After an hour, I felt physically different. After five hours, it had fully moved inside me. If you walked around the room, everything shifted around you. Step into one of the enclosures that Jackie had made with huge felted panels, and it changed again: everyone vanished, some frequencies grew muffled, you fell further into yourself.
Eight years in to the Intermissions series, it’s still fascinating to explore what it can be, how artists respond to the space and people within it. The first project in 2017, by Xavier Cha, was like a lightning strike: a sudden spectacular burst, made for a dense crowd of spectators. Jackie and Laetitia’s project, in 2024, found the other end of the spectrum: they carefully crafted a non-spectacle in this spectacular room. Their performance was quieter, gradual, internalizing but endlessly dynamic. That weekend, I realized this was something we had been deeply needing.
📷: Ry Thiel
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
Flashback ⚡ Intermissions
with Devin T. Mays
I tend to think of Intermissions at the Ren (which happens in the gallery in between exhibitions), not really as a performance series so much as a container: this unusual space, a few days time. Artists makes different things happen. People gather. A new invitation twice a year, never the same.
I’m still thinking about Devin May’s project more than a year later. On two days he read the room in different ways, first through words and then music, and like always Devin keeps you guessing.
First he basically turned the whole room into sculpture: adding half a dozen new plywood benches to mimic the benches we already had. Shims to make everything level on a very uneven floor. Yellow work lights cast a glow. A backyard tent covering the entrance.
On day one, the audience filled all the benches and the artist remained unseen, secluded in the tent. His voice filled the air. I remember thinking: “Devin makes a poem out of the room and then we live inside that poem for a while.”
Nothing to watch but each other and the space. Stillness and listening: things we don’t make much time for now. This experience rested on them. It quietly tested how much stimulus people need.
Byung Chul Han has it right: “Information steals the silence by imposing itself on us and demanding our attention.” Devin’s words didn’t feel like information, but they helped you see and feel where you were.
24 hours later, a second performance, with the same title, but many things had changed. Now the tent was in the middle of the room. Nothing was hidden. Now the artist was a band. (all hail @gerrithatcher @wc_harris_ @jordanknecht) They were testing the room in a different way, feeling it out in wordless sound, more cacophonous. Devin now one voice, of a sort, among many.
One of my Ren colleagues says it made her think of dancehall, tents and sound systems that pop up in empty lots, suddenly alive in the in-between space. Devin’s work suits the liminal spirit of Intermissions. For two days he rewrites it in his image, and then rewrites it again.
(All photos by Ry Thiel except the first two)
I’ve been favoring offline energy this year by far, but much has happened back at the ranch. It’s summer so let’s go back in time. In coming days I’ll post more about some @rensoc projects that have made life exciting. Love to all these artists, the real energy bringers.
I’ve been favoring offline energy this year by far, but much has happened back at the ranch. It’s summer so let’s go back in time. In coming days I’ll post more about some @rensoc projects that have made life exciting. Love to all these artists, the real energy bringers.
I’ve been favoring offline energy this year by far, but much has happened back at the ranch. It’s summer so let’s go back in time. In coming days I’ll post more about some @rensoc projects that have made life exciting. Love to all these artists, the real energy bringers.
New book on the way! This one long in the making with the marvelous Ghislaine Leung. Available for pre-orders now from the Renaissance Society (link in bio).
And join us in Berlin on July 24th, 7pm, for a book launch at @neuerberlinerkunstverein in conjunction with Ghislaine’s current exhibition there.
- - - -
GHISLAINE LEUNG: HOLDINGS (2015-2025)
Published by the Renaissance Society, Ghislaine Leung: Holdings (2015-2025) is a new book that reflects on ten years of the London-based artist’s work. Central to Leung’s practice are concise “scores,” written descriptions that outline the materials and implementation of work, which an institution then interprets and performs. This publication grows out of Leung’s exhibition Holdings at the Renaissance Society in 2024, which debuted a set of new scores, but ultimately it looks far beyond it and behind it.
For the first time in one place, Leung offers a comprehensive list of her scores, plus the non-score works that have punctuated her exhibitions. An extensive image section documents many of the scores’ iterations as they have been repeated in different places. In these pages, Leung also shares what she calls her “sub-scores,” a set of personal self-instructions or protocols that have never been published before. These terms, conceived solely for the artists herself, guide her work and her terms of engagement, while helping make room for a life beyond art.
Holdings (2015-2025) offers a more expansive view of Leung’s work than any publication so far, but its aim is not to provide a definitive survey. This volume offers an ample but knowingly provisional introduction to Leung’s work, while exploring the fundamental mutability and non-fixity of her scores. There is still plenty to see and read, including new writings by a number of people who know her and her work well. The book features essays by Hettie Judah, Mike Sperlinger, Eleanor Ivory Weber, and Renaissance Society curator Karsten Lund, as well as a lively conversation between Bruce Hainley, Karsten Lund, Ramaya Tegegne, and Helena Vilalta.
Softcover, 292 pages
Designed by Petra Hollenbach
Edited by Karsten Lund and Ghislaine Leung
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Isabelle Frances McGuire’s exhibition “Year Zero” at the Renaissance Society delves into things real and imagined, ‘good men’ and ‘monsters’, origin stories, and all sorts of repeating loops in the American cultural imagination — from Abe Lincoln to sleeping vampires to Hollywood remakes. The plot thickens at every turn and all the work comes to life as Isabelle translates various 3D digital models into tactile sculptural forms using more hands-on DIY methods.
I have *loved* working on this show with Isabelle. (A book will follow, later this year!) For now, don’t miss seeing the exhibition today or tomorrow — last call, final weekend.
For the show’s last resounding chord, join us TODAY (Sat, Feb 8) at 3PM for a special event with Betsy Ross herself, live in person: the women, the legend, the creator of the first American flag.
All photos by Bob.
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Ghislaine Leung is the best conspirator and just a brilliant artist, such a pleasure to work with her on this exhibition “Holdings” at the Renaissance Society over the past year+. Its many layers unfold as you linger with it, it keeps bending my mind, and it’s the rare show that’s both unabashedly conceptual and full of feeling. Stop by and see it and I’d love to talk about it!
— via @rensoc —
Ghislaine Leung’s “Holdings” is on view through April 14th. Using certain methodologies, including concise written scores enacted in collaboration with the institution, Leung’s exhibition circles around a sense of identity in motion — diasporic, plural, or ambiguous — both in the case of artworks and of the artist herself.
GLX, 2024
A school photo of the artist in its original cardboard frame with a handwritten note on the back. The Chinese characters copied out by the artist as a child, unreadable to her then and now, translate as “To grandpapa from Ghislaine, 87.” Never sent.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Holdings, 2024
Score: An object that is no longer an artwork.
Wants, 2024
Score: A song from a film the artist’s father watched repeatedly before moving to the United Kingdom in 1970.
Jobs, 2024
Score: A list of jobs held by the artist.
Visit our website [renaissancesociety.org] to learn more about Leung’s exhibition, and check our calendar for upcoming programs, including an artist talk on March 9th and a lecture by art historian Faye Gleisser on March 23rd.
This exhibition is supported by Valeria Napoleone.
Photos by Bob.
#ghislaineleung
Today is the first day of Alexandra Pirici’s “Encyclopedia of Relations” at the Renaissance Society, as part of our Intermissions series. With a cast of six amazing performers it morphs and re-morphs over four hours each afternoon or evening, now through Sunday. (Hours below, come and go when you please!). Beyond thrilled to bring this work to Chicago and have it come to life in new ways at the Ren.
♾️
Alexandra Pirici:
Encyclopedia of Relations
DEC 13–17
WED–FRI, 4–8 PM
SAT–SUN, 1–5 PM
Cast: Céline Bellut, Matilda Bjärum, Jared Marks, Emily Ranford, Robert Schulz, Jennifer Tchiakpe
Over the span of five days, Alexandra Pirici presents Encyclopedia of Relations, in which six performers continuously reconfigure themselves into various forms and structures while using movement, sound, and language. Pirici’s performative actions unfold over longer durations of time, without a clear beginning or end, inviting you to come and go or linger or come back repeatedly.
First staged at the 59th Venice Biennale in 2022, within the main exhibition, Encyclopedia of Relations is presented in a new space at the Ren, as the performers revisit various ongoing relations—encompassing human interactions and relations with and among other entities, such as plants, animals, and artificial intelligence. In its combinatory logic, this work takes inspiration from biological realities, such as symbiotic or parasitic relations, and the fantastic, including medieval bestiaries and surrealist “exquisite corpse” games, as well as human-technology interchanges. As Pirici notes, “Relations are fluid, made and remade, revealing how apparently distinct life-forms or elements are embedded in inseparable, larger forms of coexistence.”
Encyclopedia of Relations was originally realized for the 59th La Biennale di Venezia, 2022 as a Special Project supported by Audemars Piguet Contemporary. @audemarspiguet
Today is the first day of Alexandra Pirici’s “Encyclopedia of Relations” at the Renaissance Society, as part of our Intermissions series. With a cast of six amazing performers it morphs and re-morphs over four hours each afternoon or evening, now through Sunday. (Hours below, come and go when you please!). Beyond thrilled to bring this work to Chicago and have it come to life in new ways at the Ren.
♾️
Alexandra Pirici:
Encyclopedia of Relations
DEC 13–17
WED–FRI, 4–8 PM
SAT–SUN, 1–5 PM
Cast: Céline Bellut, Matilda Bjärum, Jared Marks, Emily Ranford, Robert Schulz, Jennifer Tchiakpe
Over the span of five days, Alexandra Pirici presents Encyclopedia of Relations, in which six performers continuously reconfigure themselves into various forms and structures while using movement, sound, and language. Pirici’s performative actions unfold over longer durations of time, without a clear beginning or end, inviting you to come and go or linger or come back repeatedly.
First staged at the 59th Venice Biennale in 2022, within the main exhibition, Encyclopedia of Relations is presented in a new space at the Ren, as the performers revisit various ongoing relations—encompassing human interactions and relations with and among other entities, such as plants, animals, and artificial intelligence. In its combinatory logic, this work takes inspiration from biological realities, such as symbiotic or parasitic relations, and the fantastic, including medieval bestiaries and surrealist “exquisite corpse” games, as well as human-technology interchanges. As Pirici notes, “Relations are fluid, made and remade, revealing how apparently distinct life-forms or elements are embedded in inseparable, larger forms of coexistence.”
Encyclopedia of Relations was originally realized for the 59th La Biennale di Venezia, 2022 as a Special Project supported by Audemars Piguet Contemporary. @audemarspiguet
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
Late spring flashback ~ ~ It was such a rush and a marathon sprint back then that it’s nice to look back before the next round begins ⚡️ @rensoc
1. RenBen 2023, TRU RENAISSANCE, masterminded by Adam Linder, featuring (in photo) Anthony Roth Costanzo, Lily McMenamy, Jeffrey Swider Peltz, Zachary Nicol, and Stephen Thompson, to name only a few of a stellar ensemble.
2. Knockout performance by Kevin Beasley, Moor Mother, Taja Cheek (L’Rain), Ben Chapoteau-Katz, and Eli Keszler at Performance Space New York, doubling as an entry in their John Giorno Octopus series and a Ren book launch for Kevin.
3. Whitney Johnson’s mesmerizing four-hour performance in Bond Chapel, The Tuning of the Elements, with @esschicago
4, 5. Özgür Kar’s DAWN, a new commission as part of the Ren’s Intermissions series. It haunts me still in the best possible way, and found it’s way to the Fridericianum in Kassel soon after.
6, 7, 8. What can I say about this wild show… Lively, livestreamed, undead, with a mascot who shall remain unnamed. Also virtuosic pole dancers from FlyClub Chicago (like Zeal in photo). Loved this adventure with Shahryar Nashat, Bruce Hainley, and Myriam Ben Salah.
9. A staged reading of Twilight: Eclipse, directed by Catherine Sullivan with live vignettes beamed in via video from the gallery upstairs, at the invitation of Bruce and Shahryar.
Not pictured: another amazing table reading, directed by Pope.L, of Adrienne Kennedy’s play The Dramatic Circle, undocumented and now forever to stay in the realm of lore.
📷 by me except: 3. Alex Inglizian; 5 Cody Schlabaugh; 6-8 Robert Chase Heishman; 9 Ren staff
HBD Robert Pattinson :)
We’re celebrating 4-7pm
Exhibition talk at 4pm in Kent Hall
For a few years now I’ve been wanting to push at the edges of what our Intermissions series can do and I’m thrilled to have Özgür Kar @ozgurkar as my latest conspirator. The new installation he’s dreamed up for the Ren’s unique space is a “performance” but not in the usual ways, and above all it’s something you have to experience, as his colossal animated characters wait for the dawn.
This Saturday and Sunday only, 4/22 & 4/23, from 12-8pm each day. See you there.
The second image here is one of Özgür’s earlier projects, in Belgium, but it’s good to give a hint of what his work is like. Real presence. His project in Chicago is his first big foray in a U.S. museum ⚡️☠️🎻
via @rensoc —
As skeletal characters appear on their own towering screens, Özgür Kar's media installations come to life as deconstructed theater pieces and multi-part soundscapes. This weekend, for two days only, Özgür Kar premieres DAWN, a new animated work created for the Renaissance Society's space as part of our Intermissions series.
With echoes of early cartoons, medieval danse macabre, the existential monologues of Samuel Beckett and more, Kar's new work imagines an endless performance without human actors. The sun is coming.
The gallery is open on Saturday and Sunday, from 12 - 8pm each day. Come by and wander freely or settle in and watch like its a show.
Intermissions launched in January 2017 as a new programming series devoted to performance and other ephemeral time-based works, staged in the Renaissance Society’s empty gallery in between exhibitions. This recurring platform presents two major events every year, supporting a wide variety of live projects while feeling out what exactly this might entail.
Support for this presentation by Özgür Kar has been provided by SAHA —Supporting Contemporary Art from Turkey, www.saha.org.tr; and the Mondriaan Fund, the Dutch public cultural funding organization focusing on visual arts and cultural heritage. This program is also supported as part of the Dutch Culture USA program by the Consulate General of the Netherlands in New York.
For a few years now I’ve been wanting to push at the edges of what our Intermissions series can do and I’m thrilled to have Özgür Kar @ozgurkar as my latest conspirator. The new installation he’s dreamed up for the Ren’s unique space is a “performance” but not in the usual ways, and above all it’s something you have to experience, as his colossal animated characters wait for the dawn.
This Saturday and Sunday only, 4/22 & 4/23, from 12-8pm each day. See you there.
The second image here is one of Özgür’s earlier projects, in Belgium, but it’s good to give a hint of what his work is like. Real presence. His project in Chicago is his first big foray in a U.S. museum ⚡️☠️🎻
via @rensoc —
As skeletal characters appear on their own towering screens, Özgür Kar's media installations come to life as deconstructed theater pieces and multi-part soundscapes. This weekend, for two days only, Özgür Kar premieres DAWN, a new animated work created for the Renaissance Society's space as part of our Intermissions series.
With echoes of early cartoons, medieval danse macabre, the existential monologues of Samuel Beckett and more, Kar's new work imagines an endless performance without human actors. The sun is coming.
The gallery is open on Saturday and Sunday, from 12 - 8pm each day. Come by and wander freely or settle in and watch like its a show.
Intermissions launched in January 2017 as a new programming series devoted to performance and other ephemeral time-based works, staged in the Renaissance Society’s empty gallery in between exhibitions. This recurring platform presents two major events every year, supporting a wide variety of live projects while feeling out what exactly this might entail.
Support for this presentation by Özgür Kar has been provided by SAHA —Supporting Contemporary Art from Turkey, www.saha.org.tr; and the Mondriaan Fund, the Dutch public cultural funding organization focusing on visual arts and cultural heritage. This program is also supported as part of the Dutch Culture USA program by the Consulate General of the Netherlands in New York.
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