Above the Clouds with Malik Roberts

January 07, 2025

From an upbringing that saw him constantly shifting between Brooklyn and Atlanta, to his first solo exhibition in 2017, to shows across the globe, Malik Roberts has already lived multiple lives. His talents even saw him invited to the Vatican where he proudly presented the Pope with a painting titled, ‘Crucifixion of a Black Man’. Now settled in New York with a Downtown studio space high amongst the clouds, Roberts continues to use his work as a celebration of the nuanced, ever-evolving essence of Black culture.

At the heart of Roberts' work is a commitment to explore the multiplicity of human experience, particularly within the context of Black life. His work navigates the complexities of identity, culture, and history by blending a rich array of influences — from the emotive power of the High Renaissance and Romanticism to the introspective, multidimensional feel of Cubism and contemporary abstraction. His work speaks to the complexity of Black existence — navigating themes of aspiration, struggle, and transcendence in a way that is both personal and political.

We took the elevator all the way to the 71st floor of the World Trade Center to visit Malik’s studio, take in the incredible view, and chat to him about his craft.

Photography by Jess Brohier
Styling and Interview by Dylan Andrews
Set Design by Devante Melton
Photography Assistants: James Gerrish, Yemi MacGregor
Styling Assistants: Claire Wiseman, Devyn Banta
Production by ALT-HOUSE

Jacket and coat by ZEGNA, sunglasses by DIOR, necklace is talent's own.

What are you working on at the moment?

At the moment, nothing.

Nice.

Yeah, I'm kind of just chilling. I've been doing some mockups at the crib. I need to actually not work, but sometimes the brain just keeps moving. So I've been doing some mockups at the crib because I'm supposed to have a show next year, so I'm kind of thinking about what the fuck that might look like.

Is that how you work? Do you paint for a period and then have a break and then come back fresh? Or are you always painting?

At this point, I go from show to show, so really the in-between time isn't that long before I'm scheduled for another show somewhere in the next couple of months or whatever, so I got to start working.

Coat, leggings, shoes, bracelet and ring by MM6 MAISON MARGIELA, sunglasses by FENDI.

When did you start painting?

Professionally?

No, like when did you first pick up a brush?

I can't even remember. I've been doing it my whole life. Like, kindergarten.

Did you always know you wanted to be an artist or was there a point where you kind of switched and thought, I could do this full time?

When I was younger, my initial thought was to be an architect. I was always into artwork, drafting and doing things like that, but I didn't know of an actual professional artist, you know what I mean? I was good at math and shit like that, and I was into drawing, so I thought architecture and drafting would kind of be a good way. But then I got too far into trigonometry and shit, and I wasn’t trying to do all that.

So it was like 2009. Honestly, it was around the Kanye Graduation album. I remember sitting down watching 106 & Park, and Kanye was on it. I think he paid Murakami, like a hundred thousand or some crazy shit to design the album cover, and I was like, ‘Who the fuck is Murakami?’ I looked him up and I saw all the artwork that he was doing and all the shit that he did for Graduation. I was like, ‘Oh shit, a nigga alive right now is getting paid X amount of dollars to work with Kanye off this drawing and painting shit. Alright, bet, I'm about to start. I'm about to figure out how I could do that.’

Before then it had never occurred to you that it was a realistic option?

No, the only artists I ever thought about were Renaissance period people, like Michelangelo. I knew graffiti artists and stuff like that, but the idea of contemporary art wasn't really privy to me. So yeah, the only reference I had was just historical figures in the art world.

Coat, pants, shirt and shoes by DOLCE & GABBANA, necklace by MARTINE ALI, sunglasses by GENTLE MONSTER X MAISON MARGIELA.

How would you describe your own painting style?

It's like deconstructed portraits, if you will. I feel like a lot of times when people try to interpret what I do or try to copy what I do, they more think it's collage work, like you're building up. You know what I mean? Taking the imagery, putting images on top of images on top of images. Whereas I'm taking what I feel is a solid theme or an idea, and I'm pulling back layers and revealing things that are going on internally more than I'm building up and trying to put on an outward persona or something.

It feels like that deconstruction relates to the complexity of identity in your subjects. Does that take influence from the complexity of your own identity?

Yeah, it really came from the complexity of my own identity because I was born in Brooklyn but my mother's from Guyana and my father's from Trinidad. So having immigrant parents and having a Caribbean background, and then at a young age moving to the South and living in different parts of Atlanta, it gave me different perspectives of an immigrant Caribbean lifestyle versus a New York Black lifestyle versus a Southern Black lifestyle. So it's three different ways of going about life that I got in pretty rapid progression from my parents. Then I lived in Atlanta for, I'll say elementary school. Then I came back to Brooklyn for middle school. Then I went back to Atlanta for high school. Then I came back to Brooklyn right after high school. So every time, it was like a three, four year period where I was just taking knowledge from here and there. And also as a child, I went to a magnet school in Atlanta.

What's a magnet school?

It's like a school for high achievers. You have to get tested into the school. So during that time in that school for fourth, fifth, and sixth grade, I was maybe the only Black person. It was like 98% white people. So the way I was treated in that school and the way that people spoke to me in that school also kind of garnered where my mind was at as far as identity, because I never really felt at home nowhere, you know what I mean? I was a little bit too white for the Black kids, too Black for white kids. I had a Caribbean background so I wasn't really a Black American, but I didn't fully adapt to the Caribbean background, I felt like I was more like a Black American. So, yeah it was kind of playing into all those identities.

How did you find the difference between Brooklyn and Georgia in terms of your creativity and your painting? Were you more inspired by one place than the other or it didn't really change?

Atlanta gave me a lot of the groundwork and the knowledge about Black American history that comes from that part. So that kind of helped me form what I would say was my art style. And then when I got to New York and actually started going to the museums and going to The Met, and the Thursday night gallery walks and shit like that through Chelsea, it gave me more of the perspective of the actual art world. So it was like blending the knowledge that I had from childhood and then bringing it up here and contextualizing it within the art world.

Jacket and coat by ZEGNA, sunglasses by DIOR, necklace is talent's own.

I want to talk about this studio space we’re in; the 71st floor of the World Trade Center. How did you come to get a studio here?

I came to get a studio here because one of my fellow artists and peers, Zeehan Wazed. He's a very big mural artist out in Jamaica, Queens, and he works for a lot of real estate companies, and one of the real estate companies that he works with has a space within the World Trade Center. So through a lot of leveraging, a lot of the friendships he's garnered over the years, he was able to ask for me to be a part of this floor because he's actually my neighbor on the floor; he's the guy right here to the left of us. So when he asked that, I actually got a chance to meet with the guy that ran the floor, Dara, in Miami, randomly next to Coyo Taco. Zeehan called me, he said, “Yo I see Dara right here, bro. You got to get down here.” Me and Twin was at the Airbnb, hopped in an Uber and got over there in 15 minutes, walked in, casually talked to him. Zeehan had already done a lot of the groundwork; let him see my artwork and let him know who I was as an artist. So when he finally got a chance to meet me in person and put the pieces together, the only thing he said to me was, “I’ll see you at the World Trade Center.” I sent over a few emails and they gave me my passcode and my security card, and we was up here, been up here since January.

You must be one of the only creatives in here. Obviously not this floor, but in the building.

In the building, yeah. It's really funny to see when you walk around, you walk downstairs, it's like our floor is a bunch of artists just covered in paint and shit like that, and everybody else is working for a tech company.

The security is crazy too. It’s wild.

I mean this building has Spotity, Uber, fucking StubHub, so there’s a lot of major companies in here.

Coat, sweater and pants by OFFICINE GÉNÉRALE, sunglasses by LOEWE, shoes by SEBAGO.

How did the opportunity to meet the Pope and give him one of your paintings come about?

The opportunity came about through my mentor, Domingo Zapata. So I worked for Domingo between the years of 2015 to 2018, and in 2018 he started doing work with the Pope’s charity, Scholas, which was talking about the importance of arts and culture in underprivileged areas. So he reached out to me one random night and he’s like, “I'm doing this thing with the Pope’s charity, just give me a painting, no matter really what it is, just give me something. We're trying to sell some work for some kids and shit.” I gave him the painting and he called me back two weeks later. He's like, “Yo, since you gave me the painting, the Pope is doing some shit at the UN. You got to come to the UN, they’re doing this little charity event, and you'll give a mini speech. If someone buys your painting, then the Vatican will pay for it. They'll fly you and the person that bought the painting out to the Vatican to have a one-on-one with the Pope.” This is December.

Fast forward to January, we go to Miami and at the end of the trip he asked, “Are you ready to go meet the Pope? We're flying out.” I think it was like May 21st through the 25th or something like that we was out in the Vatican. I have another friend that also flew over there by the name of Daniel Mazzone, another incredible artist out of Toronto, Canada. And honestly, truth told, it was Daniel's idea because was like, “Yo, you should paint like a Black Jesus, that would be hard. If you do a Black Jesus and bring that shit to the Pope, bro, that shit will go crazy.” I sat on the idea for a while but since I seen his big ass painting, I was a little insecure of myself so I started doing a big ass painting. Then I started looking at shipping costs and that like, how the fuck I'm getting this big ass painting over? So scratch that, I did one like a quarter of the size.

Right, something that could fit inside your luggage.

So we get to the door of the Vatican, we’re doing the security checks and Daniel and a bunch of other artists, got these big ass paintings outside. They go to the security gate and they won't let them inside because the paintings are too big to bring in. So I go to the security guard and I show him my shit. I'm like, “Yo, I have this personal gift I have for the Pope. Do you mind if I bring it inside?” He looked at it and said, “It’s small enough, just keep it tucked under your arm.” Perfect.

I go inside and they do this whole walkthrough. You are not supposed to take videos when the Pope is there, you're not supposed to do nothing when the Pope is there. Back and forth we go. The Vatican's hot as shit, they ain't got no AC, so we in there sweating bullets. Everybody fully three-piece-suited up, you feel me? So we in there hot as a motherfucker, it’s May. It takes three hours for the Pope to even show up. So the nigga show up through the door, everybody's on “Your holiness”, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you”, “This is such a great opportunity.” I'm not super religious as a person, so I was just kind of chilling in the cut. So yeah, he pulled up on me, it was my turn. He looked at me and we had a little bit of conversation. I had an interpreter there. The interpreter spoke horrible English so I just ended up speaking to the Pope. I was like, “Yo, man, it was a pleasure to meet you, brother. This is an honor. I'm happy to really be here. I came over here and I brought this gift for you. It's just something I just want you to personally have, it's a painting that I did.”

It seemed like his reaction was pretty positive, right?

His reaction was positive. He took it out of my hand. He held it up. He looked up and down. He's like, “Oh yeah, this is good. This is good.” Then he talked to the security man behind him with the earpiece in, and he told him to take care of it. The security wrapped it up, put it to the side, and me and him finished having our little conversation. And then he tapped me on my shoulder and he said, “Make sure you pray for me.” I was like, “Yo, but you the Pope, you're supposed to pray for me.”

[Laughs] You said that?

Yeah, I was kind of caught off guard. If you see the little video on my Instagram, at the end he says that shit to me, my face kind of screws up.

I'm going to have to watch the video back now, that’s funny.

It's like, what do you say? He's like, “No, but I need you to make sure you pray for me.” I say, “I got you.”

Do you pray?

Yeah… in more of a spiritual way.

Like, giving thanks and that? Me too.

Yeah, I ask the universe for some things and, you know, I receive.

I ask the universe for some things and, you know, I receive.

Coat, shirt and pants by HOMME PLISSÉ ISSEY MIYAKE, sunglasses and shoes by LOEWE.

Has there been any experiences over the years that have been integral to your expression and direction, the way you choose to perceive the world through your painting?

Yeah, the time period when I was working for Domingo was very integral. He showed me that any material that you need to use to get your narrative or your point across, you should use. Whether it comes to spray paint, oil sticks, acrylics, oil paint, he'll use whatever and whenever he needs to on one of his pieces. So that was very integral to me. I always thought to be an artist, you had to pretty much be a master in something. So if I was doing acrylic, I was only doing acrylic. If I was using charcoal, I was only using charcoal. But seeing him mix and match charcoal and acrylics and oils was kind of the basis of how I got to the point where I was at style-wise. It feels like it's a lot of different styles, but it cohesively kind of marries itself together.

Right before my BLK & BLUE show in 2018, I took a trip out to Paris with my friend Vernon O’Meally, and we got to go around and see a lot of original artworks. So that was my first time really seeing a lot of things that I had seen in books, in real life. And that's why I really got introduced to Caravaggio and seeing his work in person really changed the focal points of how I was even creating artwork. And I got a chance to go to the Musée d'Orsay, I know I'm pronouncing it horribly, but it's a big museum out there in Paris, and I got to see the Morse paintings from around the same renaissance time. So that was the first time I actually saw depictions of Black skin in the same period as the Renaissance period, which you only got to see those white figures.

I never thought about that.

Yeah, so it was really cool to see how they highlighted Black people's skin and highlighted people of color’s skin and the emotions that they showed, and some of the narratives that they were telling during that time period. So, that was integral, and that's why BLK & BLUE was the first step into the new foyer of how my artwork kind of started taking the direction to where it looked to this day. Because before that, it was really more cartoony, it was more comic-y, something like the one that you see behind you right there. But then when I seen those paintings, I was like, Oh, no, I can really paint. I really want to show niggas that I could paint. Because a lot of times people thought because I was doing all the extra line work, that I was trying to hide my mistakes, which it wasn't really that, it was just an expression. So when I heard that too many times, I was like, Oh, let me pull back on doing so much line work and actually sit down and paint. And then BLK & BLUE is the first show I did oil paint too. So that was me showing that I actually have a real skill and talent with this. I'm nice like that.

Jacket, pants and boots by HERMÈS, sunglasses by MIANSAI.

Throughout your years as a painter, is there something you've learned about yourself?

I'm really good [laughs].

Is there a message you hope your viewers take away when they see your art?

The message I hope the viewers take away from my artwork is that in those moments that you don't feel seen, always remember that someone's seeing you. You know what I mean? Don't ever feel like you are alone or that your experience is a solo experience. There are people out there watching, there's people out there seeing what you're doing, and there's people out there that still believe in you despite what you might be going through. Yeah.

We spoke about your nieces and nephews last time, and the excitement they get from Googling you and seeing you pop up and stuff. What are your hopes for the next generation?

My hopes for the next generation, honestly, is that they have the opportunity to actually get to see the generation after them. You know what I mean? And get to pass on some of the things that hopefully I've instilled in them because it's a great moment and it's a great feeling when you can do that for the youth. It is a really good feeling. I actually went to my little cousin's funeral — just because we talking about it — he was 17 years old, nigga got killed, like three days before my birthday.

I'm sorry to hear.

But I used to draw shit in his comic books with him and shit. My older cousin showed me a text message that she had with him in October, right before he came out here to visit, and he was asking where I stayed at and what I'd be up to because the nigga wanted to come visit me. And just to see that and hear that and think, Damn, if I would've stayed around a little bit more, if I had maybe been more active in those moments, I could have furthered that instead of that moment being cut short.

Don't ever feel like you are alone or that your experience is a solo experience. There are people out there watching, there's people out there seeing what you're doing, and there's people out there that still believe in you despite what you might be going through.

Coat, sweater and pants by WILLY CHAVARRIA, sunglasses by LOEWE, shoes by BURBERRY.

Is painting something you can see yourself doing forever?

Yeah. I've always had visions of myself being in a wheelchair. I even thought about myself being found dead in my goddamn studio or some shit. Yeah, wheelchair, bed, hospital bed, wherever the fuck they put me at, where I'm laying at the end of it, I'll be using some kind of pen or pencil to draw something, paint something.

If you weren't painting, what do you think you'd be doing? I know you mentioned architecture before, is there anything else you could see yourself doing?

You already know, man, I'm gonna be an actor. I'm gonna be an actor, I’m telling you. I'm just waiting for the opportunity. I know some people in that field, you know. I'm just waiting for them to see something in me and book me with that role, baby.

Did you do theater as a kid?

Hell no [laughs]. I just believe in myself.

Yeah, that's what's up. That's all it takes, really.

If we see it, then I feel like we can achieve that.

Check out some of Malik's artwork below.

Art

The Whole World has Gone Insane

Chiara — You have been living and working in New York City for the past 20 years but tell me about your first impressions of the city and what has kept you here?

Curtis — When I first visited New York City I remember being in the back seat of a yellow cab driving through Chinatown, I remember the energy of the people and bright signage; almost cinematic. It reminded me of of a scene from Michael Cimino’s 'Year of the Dragon'. It felt similar to an organized madness. I was both in awe and intimidation. It was thrilling and also disorienting. I think I was 20 years old. I had officially moved to NYC in 2005. Still today I find it to be a circus, it has no rules. Everyone intensifies what life does not need to be. However, in New York in order to survive, life must intensify. The city doesn’t just tolerate chaos - it thrives on it. The unpredictability of New York feeds creativity, pushes boundaries, and forces you to constantly reevaluate your place in the world. It’s this continuous engagement with uncertainty and possibility that keeps me established here.

What year did you start filming the construction sites and what attracted you to them?

I started filming on my daily walks around the neighborhood in 2010 or 2011. I had noticed that there was much more construction than in the previous years with the continuation of gentrification. The bigger construction sites that I was passing and paying attention to led me to thinking that there were really beautiful aspects to these environments. I chose to film it in a reckless aesthetic, and cropped them to highlight the details of this process. But innately I was composing things almost as still images, exactly how I wanted it to be. There were these really masculine construction workers, but at the same time a lot of feminine movements and hand gestures. I also filmed typical street work and maintenance, which are revealed throughout the film.

I think of your work as having a lot of movement; with your writing or even some of the other works I’ve seen, there's the gesture of the paint. Is there something to the movement of the construction, the machines and the hands that attracted you?

There is a connection, as an artist that is almost unconsciously doing. It was much more based on hands and these contrast features in comparison to what the idea of construction and demolition are in the first place. I think of swinging cranes and the machinery that's moving in a gestural way which has familiarity throughout my paintings. Every brush stroke strips the joy out of painting and at the same time adds to the general spirit of the work. The machines building, destroying, and rebuilding represent the continuous cycle of creation and reinvention that defines much of our human experience.

And then you removed the sounds of the construction and added in the music so it feels like I’m watching a dance.

Yes, it's a dance, like Bolero.

What do the machines building and destroying and building again represent for you?

They are reflective of my personal emotions, in terms of the idea of life and birth and destruction. Things going up and things coming down and thoughts going up and thoughts going down and all the feelings that go with that. But with these constant changes it’s still a reminder that we're all in it together to a certain capacity. It really just comes down to your state of mind.

Being a filmmaker myself I always love to know about the technical aspects. What did you shoot the construction footage with and how much footage did you end up having to work with in the edit?

Originally I was shooting on a mini DV camera but in too many instances I started to encounter without the camera on me so filming with iPhone was part of the process as well. I shot over 25 hours of footage over a three year period and the majority of it in the end was iPhone, shot in landscape format.

I’m so grateful you did that, I can’t stand this new-ish format for video on social media that has to be 9:16, literally the opposite aspect ratio of cinema. It drives me crazy. But I won't start on that tangent…Tell me about the clowns that have appeared in your work before. What do they signify for you?

Clowns have been a recurring motif in my work for a very personal reason. My uncle, who was a major influence on my life, had an obsession with clowns—figurines, clocks, calendars. He was a generous spirit, a mentor who introduced me to music, visual art, and film. But despite his affection for clowns, I always found them disconcerting. There’s something unsettling about the clown figure—it’s a mask for something darker, an attempt to cover up personal struggles with exaggerated performance. They symbolize a form of emotional repression to a degree. The act of hiding inner turmoil behind a forced smile. In my work, clowns represent the tension between the exterior persona and the internal reality, the mask we put on to perform for the world, while hiding our vulnerabilities.

I am not a big fan of clowns myself, they can be so unsettling. In this film you play a clown that feels completely hopeless and defeated and alone, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I also found the contrast of that perfect blue New York sky, reminiscent of 9/11, which makes it even more unsettling. Tell me about this clown that you are playing?

The clown I play in this film is a reflection of personal struggle. He’s trying to maintain composure in the face of chaos, constantly caught in his own internal conflict. The perfect blue sky above him is in stark contrast to the feeling of hopelessness and exhaustion that he embodies. It’s as if the world is beautiful and calm on the outside, but internally, everything is spinning out of control. It’s about reaching the point where you realize you don’t have to carry everything alone, and sometimes stepping back and letting things unfold is the only way forward.

In what ways has the world gone insane for you?

There’s so much happening right now; the upcoming election, the climate crisis, the political turmoil. It feels like there’s this high vibration in the air and it’s hard to ignore - nor should we ignore this. I try not to let these things overly influence my studio practice. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed by everything, but I also think there’s something to be said for finding peace within that chaos. I was trying to understand that character and prepare for the single shot at the end. At one point during the shoot I was naturally spinning out on current events and the state of the world.

Lastly, tell me about the score with the sounds layered in and the voices we hear?

I worked with Isaiah Barr, from Onyx Collective. We’ve collaborated on projects before. We generally sit with each other and the visuals and we piece together what makes sense in that moment. I have a soundbite from the Buddhist temple on Center Street and one of a younger British kid talking about money. I also added a soundbite of Stephen King speaking on the idea of "scary". Natasha Lyonne has this strong female NYC voice that can permeate, and Lennon Sorrenti who I’ve known since she was a child has this voice that just feels safe. I've used her voice for past pieces as well. It's a sound I will continue to make works with.

Art

LIA LIA by Iga Drobisz

Your work often explores intimacy and vulnerability. How do you create a safe and authentic environment for your subjects during a shoot?

The past few months, I’ve been working on two series of photographs: nudes of women in their own apartments and portraits of women before and after giving birth. Both series involve capturing them in deeply personal spaces—bedrooms or nurseries—where they feel at ease.

Shooting in their spaces, in their own beds, plays a crucial role in creating comfort. I choose film and cameras that show them in a way they find beautiful and empowering, emphasizing softness and warmth. It's a stark contrast to modern, hyper-detailed phone cameras that sometimes reveal more than one wants to see.

Your photography has a distinct emotional depth and texture. How do you approach the interplay of light, color, and composition to achieve this?

My process is highly intuitive. I’ve never formally studied photography or apprenticed under anyone—I learned by experimenting and seeing what felt right. It’s about trusting my instincts rather than adhering to rigid rules.

What role do personal experiences or cultural influences play in shaping the stories you tell through your images? Many of your photographs feel deeply narrative.

Growing up, I was surrounded by great cinematography. My grandmother had a TV, but my mom only brought home VHS tapes—films with substance. I think that exposure shaped how I see the world, how I approach subjects, and the narrative depth in my work.

What role does spontaneity play in your shoots? Do you leave room for improvisation, or is everything carefully planned?

To balance spontaneity and structure, I go in with a clear plan and strong direction, but I remain open to surprises. It’s about letting the subject feel like the shoot is about them, not me. That openness often leads to the most unexpected, meaningful moments.

What inspired the shoot with singer LIA LIA? How did it come together?

Collaborating with Ruby and Naomi always takes me out of my comfort zone in the best way. For this shoot, we wanted to transform someone with an iconic face but also someone like Lia—someone with a clear sense of self.

Giving her a completely new look was exciting; it brought an unexpected energy to the set. The approach was playful and experimental. The night before, I had no idea what wigs Ruby would bring or what colors Naomi might choose. It was a beautiful mix of spontaneity and collaboration.

What inspires you the most?

Movies and music are big inspirations for me, as well as the work of other photographers like Carlijn Jacobs, Harley Weir, Rineke Dijkstra, Charlotte Wales, and Nan Goldin.

What emotions or truths are the hardest for you to express through your art, and why?

I don’t think I consciously try to express specific emotions when I work. Instead, I follow what feels right in the moment—what draws me in or excites me that day. It’s less about a deliberate expression and more about letting intuition guide the way.

Art

Luna Luna: Surrealist Spectacle Lands in New York

November 21, 2024

In the 1980s, André Heller, an Austrian artist, singer-songwriter, and former actor, was looking for a new place to showcase his art. He had already taken to gardens, creating a colorful, surrealistic character using 40,000 flowers, and to the skies, organizing a 'fire theatre,' which involved an over-the-top fireworks show complete with steel-frame sculptures set on fire. But he had never tried out a fair.

So began "Luna Luna." Created as the world's first art carnival, "Luna Luna" combined the spectacular with the absurd, showcasing original rides and attractions from rising and already-at-the-top artists in Hamburg. Nearly forty years since its debut, followed by foiled plans for a worldwide tour, breached contracts, and 44 storage containers, the art fair has finally returned, calling New York home after re-debuting last year in Los Angeles.

By Hailey Johnson
Photography by Delvin Claro and Sabrina Sarnitz, courtesy of Luna Luna LLC

On a recent evening in Hudson Yards, a small carousel featured characters in quirky, Twister-like poses and an outstretched dog with seven legs. (Almost a century old, the rides are no longer rideable.) Goofy wooden sculptures were elevated in another corner, some of them cross-eyed or with a horn for a nose. A geodesic dome glowed, with Gregorian chants hovering somewhere above it.

"It's an art experience like no other," Michael Goldberg, Chief Experience Officer of Luna Luna, said recently. "People get to see artists do things they've never done before," he added.

Goldberg, founder of Something Special Studios, a creative agency behind many Nike campaigns, was determined to resurrect “Luna Luna” after reading about it online in 2019. Goldberg shopped for investors, eventually teaming up with DreamCrew, a media company co-owned by the rapper Drake. (Details on the company's investment remain vague; sources have reported that DreamCrew spent over "100 million dollars.") In 2022, an intensive restoration process began, with a team of artists reviving many of the original works, which had remained in boxes in a Texas warehouse for over thirty years. Several had been in pieces. (The team reportedly had to rebuild each work "bolt by bolt.")

That night, at the Shed, fourteen out of the original thirty-five works were on display, including the small carousel (Keith Haring), the goofy sculptures (Kenny Scharf), the neon dome (Salvador Dali), and a towering Ferris wheel decorated in drawings of stick figures, upside crowns, and references to Jim Crow (Basquiat). Missing works are in a "constant state of restoration," Goldberg said. Meanwhile, new attractions are joining the line-up. For the New York show, the Puerto Rican duo Poncilí Creación was commissioned to create "PonciliLand," a blink-and-you-miss-it section where guests "can create fantastical characters out of custom building blocks." Poncili also developed floating characters, inspired by performers who circulated the original “Luna Luna” fairgrounds in 1987. Known as "Lovers," the two characters, large and dreamlike, teetered to one side, mumbling the kind of nervous groans one does before a fall. (They never ended up falling.)

I asked Goldberg if, given that today's culture doesn't quite look or feel the same way as it did in 1987, there was any hesitation in showing some of the original works. On a back wall, a tribute featured Manfred Diex's "Palace of the Wind," a show featuring performers who fart into a microphone; on another, two ornate pedestals held sculptures of spiral poop.

"I don't see any reason why we wouldn't show any of these works," he said. "A lot of the time, art is exclusive and uninviting. The big difference between “Luna Luna” and other art experiences is that it has many sides to it, and things that have a bit of humor and playful energy. "As for "Palace of the Winds,” the decision to keep it was simple: farting is universal. He went on: "The “Crap Chancellery" is, conceptually, one of the most important works in “Luna Luna.” Daniel Spoerri's dad was killed in the Holocaust, and the work was inspired by Albert Speer, who was Hitler's architect. He took the facade of what was meant to be a Nazi shrine and turned it into the facade of a bathroom with two steaming statues of shit standing on the outside. These works are extremely important and are things that we would definitely want to honor and draw attention to."

As “Luna Luna” further develops, the show will likely change. "It will continue to evolve as we go to different cities in response to the spaces that we pop up into and in collaboration with the local city," Goldberg said." With it, there will be new characters and new stories to tell. One aspect that won't change, though, as Goldberg assured, is a long-held sentiment about a potential partnership. At one point, early on during the original “Luna Luna” era, McDonald's wanted to buy into it. Heller said no, adding that he "didn't want it to feel like Disneyland." Goldberg agreed. Nonetheless, as I watched Kenny Scharf's dizzying swing ride go around for what felt like the hundredth time, with the cartoon characters decorated on it blurring together (one with a villain's grin, another morphed into a martini glass), I couldn't help but feel like maybe I was at Disneyland, only not as robbed, but just as entertained and exhausted by its rides and fantastical characters, and wanting to go again.