Audience Overload, by Brian Belott

What is the concept behind People Pie Pool, how did this all come about?

Dadaism is something I’ve liked since I was very young. My father was a commercial artist, and I got into dadaism through the photos of Man Ray, and my piecing together of that whole layer of 1920’s France, and artists like Duchamp. [Our] family enjoyed the absurd, the ridiculous. A subversion of that kind of just rubbed off on me. One of the first things I saw was the Marx Brothers, that group of comedic brothers making vaudeville movies. Each brother brings more collamati, so when all three of them are together things get insane. So, when Performa approached me, I was like, “Fuck yes! Things are starting to line up!”

I’m a visual artist as well, so and what I use a lot is collage. And if I was going to make something dada, it would be an event that encapsulated many performers— the model of the Marx brothers. It isn’t just one hilarious brother, it's all three of them in the room that makes that tidal wave of absurdity. So I decided that I wanted to bring in friends or people that could get on stage, easily be unhinged, and bring excitement. Going crazy has it's history, and I’m constantly thinking about the double crossing nature of dadaism.

Tristan Tzara, who wrote all these Dada manifestos, at one point, wrote something along the lines of, 'true Dada hates Dada'. I started to think why don't I involve people who would not necessarily consider themselves performers— like a math teacher, yoga instructor, or a gym class. These other people counterbalance everything, they beef up the polar opposites. The other thing, is that I don’t want each act to be clearly defined, I want everything to overlap. One person is finishing up their lecture, while the next thing is already going on.

Is this the first performance you’ve ever done? Also, I know you’re a painter as well how did you transition into doing performances?

Back in the 1990’s my ex-girlfriend and I would make these compositions— she actually taught me a lot. We would put on performances on stage, involving props and gags. This is similar.

I read that you said “At some point in an artist’s production, they should dig their heels and do the opposite of what’s expected of them” Is that what this show is?

That’s why I involved some of the more mundane performers because I felt like being some kind of punk has a history around it, it is a school in itself. Why don't we have someone come in here and talk about reality, or cryptocurrency. Their subject might be fantastic and far out like the necularphysis, or more of a mind fuck— someone just talking in tongues. When I’m making art I feel like you set up rules, but you also set up a foil within your sweet plans. I’m really suspect of when an artist gets too good at something. Inevitably, the audience is watching something transpire even if it's a frozen image, you’re still performing and if you don't cause yourself a problem and solve it in front of the audience then to me it becomes too crafty.

How do you usually come to a final idea? Is it by scraping your original 20 times?

It depends with the project, sometimes it is a daydream and then all of a sudden it happens. I definitely tend to get obsessed with stuff. At one point I had this idea, like what about all that time you’re in the shower? What if you made art while you were in the shower? So I glued all of these notebooks in shower and of course most of the drawings have to deal with water. It was something that I was doing all summer so now all of these things are leafing out. But the idea was that, you’re not supposed to be drawing in the shower so maybe that weird problem would get some more genuine mark making out of me.

That’s actually a really good idea, I’ve never really thought of that

I definitely love strange stuff, this one time I worked on another project. Since I did a lot of collage I asked myself why are you gluing from paper to paper why don't you just put all the paper in a tray of water and put it in the freezer. Then after a while I decided using paper is impractale and why don’t you use different materials other than water. Why not use cat food, hair gel, mustard, play doe. So I started making these things out of cat food and hair gel.

I really admire your unpretentious approach to art! Do you think comes from your upbringing?

Thanks! Yeah, but I also think an artist just needs to go into the world. The world is Polar and if you only exist on one side of the pole then the world is lopsided. There are people out there like Mozart and John Coltrane, masters, but there is also art out there made by everyday people. It is heartfelt, and isn’t being commodified or put in museums. Those poles are both really important.

What’s the story of you with your hair on fire?

I think an artist should play with fire, you know like a comedian does, by screwing around in a way they shouldn’t.

When I was in highschool, I was in this band where I used to dose my hands in rubbing alcohol and light them on fire. Somewhere around 2000, I got a big beard and someone told me I could light it on fire without screwing myself up. So I lit it on fire and took some photos, I just thought of making an image that you would just see and immediately be like “NO”.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

Art

Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

Art

The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.