It's Time

It is more or less impossible to do justice to such a wide-ranging show through a written summary. So in lieu of such futile foppery, office figured we’d send three plucky poets to the Biennial to craft some ekphrastic responses to a few of the works on view there.

Carly Dashiell, Kyle Carrero Lopez, and Nico Teixeira did exactly that, and it’s about time you read them already.

Above: Film still from 'The Maid' by Carissa Rodriguez.

Carly Dashiell

'Untitled'

after Carissa Rodriguez’s The Maid

dusk

The architectures hang faces off dangerous rock

I’ve heard they live in no countries at all

Where occasion is this moment

But I am permitted

An obsessed ballerina

I am. Maddened by the shape of egg

No one’s

I put in the mouth

Pliant ! The egg is machine which has invaded mouth

Asset via gloved twirl

Fabulous without hollow

I am. Timeless egg woman glass

Value

Gleaming my surfaces mouth I am. Needled

Above: Eric N. Macks' '(Easter) The Spring / The Holy Ground' .

On hot and dry slants

after Eric N. Mack’s '(Easter) The Spring / The Holy Ground'

Do I love the discussion of ethics and tariffs

inside the museum where people say big

A mark / object / or other indication

of the existence or passing of something

The more I like it

the more the thing I like changes

Appears unghostly in my eye Turns

like nesting doves a way of thinking

June needs touching not utopia

materials keep me from seeming definitive

It must be endless

the way I am reminded of something else

Trace of joy / slant of trace / Alvin Baltrop

nested in a makeshift harness

When I look at this picture I recall

how beautiful you seemed when taking it

Achingly / to witness the yielding of soft

bodies like downy birds Measured

The relationship of one to its dwelling

in years or miles

They peck and summon all which is not real

the doves who mangle this Cinnabon

Above: Janiva Ellis's 'Uh Oh, Look Who Got Wet'.

Kyle Carrero Lopez

Uh Oh, Look Who Got Wet

after Janiva Ellis

You wade through winding water,

napalm human stained

by journey burns, exhausted

yet industrious, un(glottal)stopping,

ever-ready to raze or extract,

fleeing from Earth,

which needs not run

to catch you.

In one arm you swaddle

ducklings, puppy dogs,

babies, especially white ones.

It’s easy to love what you can cuddle,

what you’ve seen coddled.

Your other arm balances you,

and another arm pulls your face back

when it droops,

and another points at unhelds

left behind,

those extra limbs

extensions of the diminutives’

influence on you.

Who and what aren’t you

willing to save?

Water isn’t wet.

Wetness as you know it

is different for sea-dwellers.

Seems a nearby mermaid—

naturally green as fescue

she lies on, dying, green

as spruces and firs to the west,

southern palm and baobab,

and greenhouse basil

easternmost—

now beached, front and center,

aquatic agony fin-bleached

by reds and blues down

her scales like 3D glasses,

acid trip tones to match

swollen skies that acid rained

on her home,

wasn’t quite cuddly enough.

Thanks to you

and your puppy ducklings,

your baby white sweets,

she got wet.

Above: Agustina Woodgate's 'National Times'.

National Times

after Agustina Woodgate

Tardiness haunts its vassals,

trailing ectoplasm

into dates and meetings

and austere offices.

Either time disagrees with me,

or something within me

with it.

Punctuality is a minor virtue,

to paraphrase Woolf.

One should hold the virtue part

higher than the minor

to keep from draining

another’s precious irreplaceable.

Some say black Americans run

late because our stolen ancestors

moved in different time

than the U.S.

This informs the idea of C.P. time.

People rightfully call it racist

for Clinton & de Blasio to joke about it.

But what if:

their ghosts really surround me.

What if my ghosts could sandpaper

every number on every slave

clock and cuckoo, hack all digitals,

master clock to subway screen

to cell phone, to permanently say 11:11,

an end of time.

Something new would rule us.

First we make it, then we submit.

Above: film stills from Tiona Nekkia McClodden's 'I prayed to the wrong god for you'.

Nico Teixeira

in°ter°dis°ci°pli°na°ry

in°ter°sec°tion°al°i°ty

after Tiona Nekkia McClodden’s 'I prayed to the wrong god for you'

i’m on dead-on quest to reach that un-

reachable star of my past imagined im-

possible dream· seeing six degrees of un-

bearable separation· i’m drawn down to

unbeatable foundation· to see its new im-

permanent art· fire emits smoke from im-

mortal television· my false god· screens

above· space · queer Native American

material hangs defending Dike’s violent

national anthem· archangel lingering be-

hind lowercase d-deafening rage angles

against social stratifications measured in

order to channel Mnt Olympus· my body

reads The Adventures of the Black Girl in Her

Search for God· the spine· in shot of line-

age of stacked books· black girl in visitors’

space takes shot of what i’m trying to under-

stand· then she’s gone in no time· seconds—

but i won’t leave this museum until i have

sense· i don’t wear a helmet when i bike

over NYC burrows anymore· i’m testing

god· tasting art· my brain static travels a-

round the grid in circles· 33 ½· objectified

object permanent tools· colors· blood dew

dropping down· what happened to Camilla?

i ask· i hear Tiona laugh· she appears here

w/ me· dedication manifests magic· horse

is brown w/ good reason· i see infinity +

one· Shango· but i must bolt to training·

watch is exactly two days late· forever—

leaving before following or discovering

more idols’ visions of truth in gods’ art

institution· six knows· i’m clever as clev-

er not fully accepting· difficult to move a-

way from power· journaling journeys un-

heard· bound by axe handle· jury eats past

saw dust severed· Lady of the Lake of fire:

take down that man—boy that thinks he’s

god· MADE IN THE USA (site never cited

in The Holy Bible’s poems) found any way

The Whitney Biennial is on view through September 22nd, 2019.

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.

Luna Luna, Hamburg, Germany, 1987.

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.