Kidnapping Incites Years of Murderous Doom

How long have you lived in Brooklyn?

10 years.

And in this studio?

Less than a year. We have kind of a volatile studio practice.

Do you like it that way?

I do, but other people that share studios with me don’t, hence why we move often. I make a lot of noise, weld fumes, use resin. I throw things a lot.

Where are you from?

California. I grew up in a small community in the north, in Humboldt County... It’s kind-of well known, it’s a brand. It’s embedded in Cypress Hill, Wu-Tang. Everyone in California talks about Humboldt even though it’s a small hick town. But a groovy hick town. They just grow a lot of weed.

Do you smoke?

I don’t. I mean, I have, but it’s just apart of the culture I grew up in, so I didn’t understand that that wasn’t what happened everywhere. There’s a radio station, KPIG, that would announce where the fed helicopters were. It’s definetly apart of the culture on the east coast as well, just in a different way. I think weed is an interesting tool. The idea of smoking it, thinking about things in a different way, and then cross-referencing them later with sobriety makes sense to me. I’ve utilized that before. But it kind-of just gives me anxiety. And I don’t have time to make mistakes these days. When I’m here everyday I have to make decisions. So if one out of every five times it’s fun and enjoyable, that’s great, But then there’s four other times that I‘m like, “I have other things to do.” And I have two kids now. I’m waiting for the perfect drug to come out. There’s coffee, alcohol, nicotine, THC. But I hate being hungover. Coffee gives you jitters and bad breath. And I don’t wanna die of lung cancer.

Let’s talk about your upcoming show. What’s up with the balloons?

I think a lot of the materials I use I’ve stumbled upon with general attraction. I like to follow instinctual guide with materials. Gold, things that are shiny, marble, balloons… things that are intrinsically appealing. I try to pay attention to the things I’m drawn to in a very sort-of knee-jerker gut wrenching way. I like the work to be as accessible as possible without catering to the lowest common denominator. Balloons are in everyones visual vernacular. There are connotations built in, and I don’t really have to explain a lot. We know what they are. Of course I manipulate them so there is an organic element to some of the forms. Balloons are the trigger.

Why do you prefer to have the figures deformed than stoic?

Despite the fact that I come from a painting background, the thing that drives me when I come into the studio; line, gesture, movement, they still drive me today. They’re kind of bi-products of the work but they are things that I’m still invested in and get excited about. That’s where all the movement and color and gestures come from.

Why The Iliad?

I think it’s interesting. But I also think sometimes it’s not necessarily the story but the way you tell the story, and it can be the same one over and over again just told in a lot of different ways. The Iliad is broad and permeated into western culture as far as war and love and adventure go. I’m able to make the work I want to make without it getting lost in ambiguity as far as what it’s about. It’s nice to have thematic strand to tell your story. If you think about your favorite novels or movies it is always the actors and the dialogue that guides you into appreciating that piece of work. The backbone that it’s built on is the story.

What is the best reaction you’ve gotten to your work?

I like it when people buy my work (laughs). I guess that’s my favorite. Because I like my work and if people buy my work I get to keep making it. Everybody has a different reaction and I like it when people like it, but I also like when they hate it. I think artists are kind of intrinsically narcissistic to think that other people would want to know and see what they have going on in their heads. It’s like posting on Instagram. You wait to see how many people are going to like it just for validation. It’s too bad we can’t just post things and be happy with them because we like them. Sales are validation, but it’s symbiotic because then I get to do it more.

Second show at The Hole. What do you like about the space they provide for artists?

Well it’s big, and they show my stuff (laughs). One thing I like is that they’re willing to take risks and that’s probably why they work with me and other artists. They do things that aren’t necessarily lucrative but more provocative and controversial, so I have a lot of freedom. I’ve worked with other people who are like, “What are we making? What size is it? Can we sell it?”, which is fine. It’s important not to forget that what we’re doing for the most part is a commodity, so these things are obviously relevant. But with THE HOLE it’s like, lets do something weird, lets do something crazy, what do you want to do?

So you share your studio. Does it bother you having people in your space all the time?

No, it doesn’t really bug me. Some people have different approaches; they like to have a really meditative environment. Do you play music? Sometimes. Sometimes I forget though. Ideally I would, but that happens one out of every ten times ‘cause I’m usually grinding and welding and I have the windows open so I hear the street. I cleaned up today, sorry. It gets dusty.

What is your ideal day not in the studio?

My very ideal day would be in Greece on vacation. Greece is cool. I would wake up and do touristy stuff like eat feta cheese and olives.

What do you actually do?

I don’t have any days off. I’ve worked everyday for like ten years. I also have two kids so a vacation is not a vacation either way. But I like that and I enjoy it. So there’s no chilling. I like my days.

How does being a dad with young kids impact your work?

Raising kids is cool. It’s not relaxing. You can’t have anything that awesome and not pay the price for it. I’m an artist and I’m in the studio all day and it’s hard work but then I go home to be with my kids. It’s hard but it’s fulfilling.

What would you be doing if you weren’t an artist?

Maybe an ornithologist.

Really?

Yeah, I love birds. When I was a kid I thought that’s what I was going to do. Growing up in the community that I did, it’s very beautiful and isolated. It’s called the Lost Coast. There are no people there. It’s just trees and water and birds and weed. I’ve fed owls out of my hands. But you know how you see people with their binoculars walking around in groups with their bird book guide? That’s not what I mean. I’m here to see birds of prey, like, shredding rabbits. I mean it in a cool way. No binoculars.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Well I’ll be 49. I’ll have a 14 year old and a 12 year old. And I hope we’re not in the same apartment because we have a one bedroom. I would like to have things the same, a version of this. If I could have a version of right now for my whole life I’d be good. I would like to still be doing the same things and involved with the same people give or take.

I’m pretty happy with what I have and what I do and what I eat. I get to hang out with my family, I have breakfast lunch and dinner with them, I have a car, an apartment, I have a lot of time to do the things I want.

“How about a house upstate with a yard?”, Carolyn Salas yells from the other side of the room. Carolyn is an artist who shares the space with Adam. She’s also his partner. “Carolyn’s my baby mama. Yeah. We could do that.”

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.