What makes some violence more highbrow than others? What makes some violence worthy of being displayed in a formal setting and charging admission to gaze upon it? Is it an art critic disregarding portrayals of the common blood and toil of everyday American living? Maybe they see something fanciful and blood-soaked and say, “Now this is a depiction of violence worthy of our halls. This is the real deal.”

A small miracle occurred in 2022 when the drywall was cracked open, and the well-preserved pigment of Wajnarowicz’s painting shone through.

After Precarity extends and pushes the conversation on art made from or inspired by commercially manufactured goods, or art in the age of the anthropocene, from the present moment into the future, while drawing on the past.

What role remains for the wild-hearted artist in a world that may no longer have any use for them?

It feels like work that could be enjoyed by the snobbiest New York critic and by your uncle sucking back his second doobie and putting on an Emmerson Lake and Palmer vinyl.

What Double Life reveals is that the various worlds we inhabit and the lives we live are not as distant as we might imagine, and that what we return to, again and again, ultimately forms the shape of a life.

Perhaps quilts that appear unconventional to us now are ushering in a future of quiltmaking techniques that shy away from presupposed restrictions.

What activates or is transmitted in the exchange between skinny-dipper and pond, or painter and painting, or seeker and finder, is the dynamic, cosmic, primordial, feminine energy that pervades all aspects of life.

I am drawn in by landscapes familiar to this fictional home; images of Southern suburbia in autumn beckon associations of Halloween, trickery, and the all-too-familiar damp heat that brings creatures to the surface.

Foster shows the warping of history and the heroism that can so easily be clung to when reflecting on bloodline lineage.

The friction behind what makes this place home and what can make it feel threatening can be found in the places where our inherent natures go against Southern hegemony – a hegemony made up of whiteness, hetero- and cis-normativity, and Christianity.

Anderson’s visual language of strain and suspended motion reveals a carcass of American idealism. Repetition that persists without momentum builds an irresolvable tension that grinds hollow promises of prosperity into trails of burning rubber and collective exhaustion. 

The dancers shuddered and convulsed, breathing life into the harrowing experience of the young Black girls that descended from the third-floor in the pursuit of new freedoms.

Cherry’s curation doesn’t tell viewers what to believe. Instead, it places them inside the storm of the last five years and asks them to sit with the tension.

In Joiner's photographs, she memorializes the connections of home, between the self and family, acknowledging how fragile they may become in the wake of grief.

In this moment of climate catastrophe, All Four Seasons in Equal Measure reads as both lament and plea: mourning the loss of biodiversity and climatic predictability while urging us to look and listen to what remains of the wild.

Peter Price’s debut solo exhibition at Snide Hotel Gallery, Third Person Omniscient, implies through name and form, an arcane tether spanning time and space, cast and narrator.

A patriotic mermaid, leather daddy Santa, and a drag queen easter egg all walk into an art gallery. The result? An overwhelming immersion into the world of Kentucky’s LGBTQ history, seen through the eyes of queer artist Feather Chiaverini.