The Miami neighborhood of Wynwood smells like stale weed, paint fumes, and gentrification. It is a far cry from the extravagant, party-focused, boob job clusterfuck that is Miami Beach during Art Basel. And that is exactly why Mana Contemporary decided to hold its version of an art fair here, spanning the Mana Wynwood warehouse and the adjacent abandoned RC Cola plant, which self-storage kingpin Moishe Mana bought in 2014.
Like much of her work, Ashley Zelinskie eludes a one-dimensional definition. She is a Star Trek-obsessed nerd who studies electrical engineering, theoretical physics, and space in her spare time. The stunning 28-year-old looks like something out of an Anthropologie catalog and wears a ring blessed by the Dali Lami.
Every party has a life cycle. It begins with innocence. Children dance, the early birds eat free cheese crisps. Alcohol is poured; everyone begins his or her ascent. The beautiful people arrive. The children rub their eyes. The music gets louder, the lights more colorful and chaotic. The children are wheeled home.
Imagine having your work in a museum but never being able to see it. For several women in the high-security York Correctional Institution in Niantic, Connecticut, this is the reality. Their work comprises the Women of York: Shared Dining exhibit, which opened August 7 at the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art in the Brooklyn Museum and is the first at the museum to feature work produced entirely by incarcerated individuals.
The Children’s Place on 125th Street has a ladder. A few months ago they asked Picasso to use it and paint their gate — the Picasso of Harlem, that is. The two men share a propensity for berets, beautiful women, and multiple names, but unlike the original Picasso, this one is over six feet tall, black, and an early riser.
In an age where our attention often frays and never lingers, it is rare to find something that holds it unwaveringly for 60 minutes. Andrew Schneider’s performance of YOUARENOWHERE leaves little time for the mind to wander. Frenetic strobe lights, crackling sound, and a fast-talking man sponged in white paint toy with every possible meaning of the show’s title.
When Leanne Stella moved to Harlem in 2011 she fell in love with it. The Upper Manhattan neighborhood swelled with homes, restaurants, cultural institutions, storefronts, churches and schools that fit together like a well mismatched set of dinnerware. Despite Harlem's rich and varied offerings Stella felt something was missing.