Sights

See: Patrick Killoran: Passage, and more

What I get from Killoran’s conceptually-oriented practice.

I keep thinking about Patrick Killoran’s intriguing artist’s talk yesterday, delivered at the beautiful Central Branch of the Queens Library in Jamaica. It was part of Opening Day of the library installations in the Queens Museum’s Queens International.

Killoran’s projects are often conceptual and phenomenological. His projects offer aesthetic situations in unorthodox media and environments. His practice relates to other practices at the merging of art and life. He spoke about how dependence on the white cube to frame something as art is almost a political liability of exceptionalism. 

Killoran is interested in making art as simply and elegantly as possible, trimming away anything that’s unnecessary. He doesn’t locate ‘the work’ in the objects he makes solely—he locates it in viewers’ interactions with each other as mediated by the object, with their bodies in the space.

man sticking his head into his t-shirt that has a grommet in the center of the fabric.

Patrick Killoran demonstrating “Insight,” his project that turns a t-shirt into a camera obscura. This is the first project he made when he moved to NYC 20 years ago. I think it’s so smart to introduce his work with this. It helps audiences come along on a journey of his thought process.

The new book cover reads, "To whom it may concern, I am a book intended to be passed on and shared. If you choose to read me, please sign-in on my back cover. When you are finished reading, give me to another person. Do not keep me in storage or put me on the shelf, deliver me to the next reader. If you find me in storage, or with someone who is not reading me, you are authorized to take me as your own and read me. I HAVE NO OWNER, ONLY READERS."

Rebound is Killoran’s dispersed library project. He re-covers books he’s reading with the instructions that commit the book to become a common resource, meant to stay in circulation at the responsibility of each reader. Here is the front cover, which explains how people participate.

A book with a fold-out back cover. It looks like an inter-office envelope, but the top says "readership," and the table headers say, "Name, location, date."

The back cover of the Rebound books have a sign-in form. While it resembles a inter-office envelope, I liked thinking about it as a counterpoint to the sign-in book you’d find at a trail summit. The latter marks a place and an achievement. This sheet, in contrast, documents whose hands the book has passed through, marking movement via sharing.

Shelves of library books, with a plywood box with no face. Inside the box is a photo of shelves of library books.

Killoran’s Passage, an intervention in the stacks at the Central Queens Library. The inside of the box is laminated with a photo of the actual stacks that the box is located in. It’s actually a little hard to find the artwork in the library—I walked right past it. Discovering it is part of the pleasure.

A view of Passage, a portal of perfectly-lined up boxes that create a negative space through the library book shelves.

When you squat down and look through Passage, this is what you see. At first, when I saw a similar photo on a flyer, I thought it was an illusion created with mirrors. When I looked through the actual artwork, I had an “Inception” moment: what seemed like 2-D or shallow 3-D is actually deep 3-D. In other words, the project isn’t about the illusion of depth, it is actual spatial depth. It extends the length of the entire library—over 100 feet. 

There’s a lot of wonderful openness in Passage, from seeing other people look through the box, to when patrons re-shelve books in the space, to seeing other patrons observe still other patrons interacting. I think this is an incredibly successful project. I think it achieves what Killoran’s after, with a maximal implications using minimal means.

This type of work may appear very simple. The solution is so ingenious as to seem inevitable. But making this type of art is intellectually laborious, time-consuming, and rigorous. I really respect this practice, and am grateful for the chance to hear it explained thoughtfully.

Visit PatrickKilloran.com to learn more about his work. (It’s a nicely organized, selective site with just enough text to describe each project.) I think his overarching practice is about interrogating public life: the unspoken rules, behaviors, and manifestations of courtesy, kindness, greed, compliance and non-compliance. He is interested in social relations in a neutral way. His works are experiments that say more about us than about him. 

 


 

The artist’s talk reminded me of when I was making elemental, conceptual, phenomenological installations. I remember struggling to convey the nature of my interests in single images. Two-dimensional images just don’t capture experiential phenomena. I remember wondering how many people viewed my slides and didn’t “get” my practice. Sometimes your art is best shared as stories, jokes, surprises, or upendings of expectations, and the artist’s talk is a better form than slides.

In preparation for this project, Killoran held many conversations with library staff members. It made me want to have more space for conversations in my own research. Conversations can evolve and be more natural and spontaneous than writing. I’ll need to get out of my shell more. 

 


 

Learn more about all the installations at the Queens Library (which includes The People’s Guide to the Queens International, a collaboration between Brian Droitcour and me).

Wooden display holding forms and a submission box, located at the end of stacks of library books.

You are invited to write about your response to Killoran’s installation. Find The People’s Guide to the Queens International writing station, located at the end of the stacks where the installation begins. Or, just look for the stacks hold books on “Unexplained Phenomena.” Complete a form and enter it into the submission box below. We’ll print submissions in our zine and on ThePeoplesGuideQI.org.

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belonging

Belonging: Process and Research Notes / A Fresh Start

This is the first in a series of posts revealing my process and research notes exploring belonging. 

I’m pleased to share that I will be the artist in residence at the Haas Institute for a Fair and Inclusive Society at UC Berkeley.

I’ll develop a participatory project to commemorate places of belonging in the Bay Area. I’ll also create an atlas of belonging. I’ll post more about this soon—including how you can participate, and how you can help.

In the meantime, one of my goals is to make my process transparent. I’ll try by posting regularly here.

Background

Last year, I developed a site-specific, participatory project about belonging during a five-week artist’s residency at Sanitary Tortilla Factory in Albuquerque, New Mexico. After conducting workshops and holding an open call, I hand-painted signs to commemorate 13 places of belonging, and produced a 24-page zine with maps and excerpts of the contributors’ own words.

Sign reads, "A place of belonging #1, We all belong here. When this block feels thriving, welcoming, and supportive of artists and creators, I feel more empowered and whole-nourished. JL BelongingABQ.com." Salmon colored sign on a post on a sidewalk with trees and parked cars in the background.

Christine Wong Yap with contributors, Belonging Sign #1: 2nd Street SW, Nominated by Jessamyn Lovell. 2017, handlettered paint on pine, 18 x 11 x 0.75 inches each.

That experience reinforced my passion for belonging. Belonging relates to social and political identities, and also reflects deep emotional intelligence and self-actualization. It can mean you relate to a group or a place, and also are connected with a deep, authentic self. This initial project also boosted my confidence, and underscored the importance of artists helping artists, patience, openness, and listening. I’ll carry these lessons learned moving forward.

Residency Dates

I’ll be the Bay Area from mid-November to mid-February.

[Though Haas has described the residency as “yearlong,” the residency dates are November 1 to May 1. In my interview, I was forthcoming about my availability. I’m explaining all of this because I know how important it is to make the most of a competitive opportunity. But I know that I can get a lot done in a short time, making up for less time with more focus and attention.]

Coinciding Belonging Projects

It just so happens that I’m currently exhibiting a project on belonging in San Francisco. It’s part of Take Action, an exhibition at CCA’s Hubbell Street Galleries in San Francisco, and is a collaboration with For Freedoms. It’s on view through November 16.

Participants can mark their places of belonging on a map of the Bay Area, make their own poster to commemorate that place, and send a postcard to someone about belonging.

Wall painted with map of bay area in salmon colored paint, with the text "Where do you feel belonging?" There's cards on the map with yarn and pins to different locations. There's a pink shelf with yard, scissors and pins. A visitor is close, reading the cards.

Christine Wong Yap, Belonging, 2018, mixed media: participatory installation with letterpress-printed activity sheet, dimensions variable.

But first, I ask people to complete the questionnaires, in order to deepen self-reflection about belonging. Gallery assistants are collecting the questionnaires, and will share them with me.

I already collected some questionnaires. Some were completed by CCA students in workshops I led, some were completed during the opening. I’m astounded by the hope, earnestness, and unique life stories and perspectives revealed in them. There’s a young Russian immigrant who struggled to find her place here, and she came to forge lifelong bonds in a co-organized life drawing group. She encourages others to initiate their own places of belonging. I was moved to hear one young man described what belonging feels like in the negative, as “not being intrusive or bothersome.”

I hope to inform the Haas project with these stories, as well as feedback I got during the workshops. Thanks to everyone who’s participated so far.

If you visit Take Action and participate in my project, please consider entering your name and email address so I can ask follow up questions or invite you to public feedback sessions or celebrations. I won’t add you to any mailing lists. This is just so I can follow up about the project to be accountable to you and your contributions to this project.

The Bay Area

Though I’ve lived in NYC for the past eight years, I’ve lived in the Bay Area for 33. I’ve lived in the East Bay, North Bay, and on the peninsula. When I visit the Bay, I sleep in the same bedroom where I was during the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.

I’m looking forward to spending more time in the Bay Area. I hope to develop a project that reflects the best of the Bay: thoughtfulness, experimentation, accessibility, diversity, and inclusion.

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Research

Points of Reference: Pockets, and Ways and Means

A new reference re-affirms a past project.

In 2015, I created Ways and Means. The public was invited to interact with activity kits housed in custom printed and sewn tool aprons.

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Christine Wong Yap, Ways and Means, 2016, letterpress, woodcut, linoleum cut, and screenprint on paper and textiles, mixed media, participation, dimensions variable. Exhibited at Kala Art Institute, Berkeley, CA. Photo: Jiajun Wang

Activities housed in canvas pouches, displayed on a wall. Participants can attach them to garments using the snaps. Supported by a Fellowship from Kala Art Institute and an Artist-in-Residence Workspace Grant from the Center for Book Arts. Photo: Jiajun Wang

Activities housed in canvas pouches, displayed on a wall. Participants can attach them to garments using the snaps. Supported by a Fellowship from Kala Art Institute and an Artist-in-Residence Workspace Grant from the Center for Book Arts. Photo: Jiajun Wang

I was trying to convey feelings of autonomy (deciding for yourself) and agency (being able to do things) by emphasizing mobility (being able to move freely).

Essentially, I wanted the tool kits to remind participants of the intangible tools they already carry—such as help they’ve already received, or their commitment to their own values—that allow them to express themselves fully, do things, and go places.

So when I listened to “Pockets: Articles of Interest #3”, an episode in a six-part series in  99% Invisible’s podcast, I was fascinated to hear this:

Avery Trufelman (producer):

Man’s great evolutionary advantage is the creation of tools. The problem is, we’re not marsupials, we need to carry them somehow. And this idea of who has access to the tools they need, who can walk through the world comfortably and securely; THIS is what we are talking about when we talk about pockets.

Hannah Carlson (lecturer at RISD):

Pockets speak to this question of preparedness, and your ability to move in public and to be confident. It’s really difficult to get around if you don’t have what you need, and it’s about, I think it’s about mobility and movement in public.

Trufelman and Carlson continue, and touch on the psychological security of ownership when your tools are closer to your body:

HC: If the formal question for me is, “What difference does it make?” “What’s the difference between a pocket and a bag?” And I think the key difference is that the pocket is internal. And it’s secret.

AT: A bag can be stolen. A bag can be lost. And then, that’s it. You don’t have your things anymore.

HC: With a pocket inside, you don’t have to think about it. You forget about it, but you still have stuff in there. It is seen as this territory of your own. That connects you to the objects you carry, in a way. Those objects become part of you.

They also dive into gender and the disparity of pocket size. Many woman will relate to the dislike of the ridiculousness of tiny pockets as an extension of patriarchy. It’s a great listen for general listeners and designers alike. Recommended!

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Art Competition Odds

Art Competition Odds: Guttenberg Arts’ Winter 2019/Summer 2019 Space and Time Artist Residency

Guttenberg Arts’ Winter 2019/Summer 2019 Space and Time Artist Residency received 202 applications for 3 residents.

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Selected artists comprise about 1:67, or 1.4% of applicants.

See all Art Competition Odds.

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Citizenship

Getting Ready to Vote

It’s hard to get voting information. With midterm elections only three weeks away, here’s how I tried to prepare, and what I encountered…


I read “Everything You Need to Know for the Midterm Elections” (NY Times, October 2, 2018). I highly recommend it: informative, brief, straightforward, and nice user experience. I learned that the tightest Congressional races that might flip the House and Senate are in other districts. I could talk with family and friends in NorCal, but pivotal seats are in SoCal.

From this well-edited, well-designed NYT article, it all went downhill.

Next, I visited Vote411.org, and it showed me only four candidates on my ballot in national races. Oddly, it doesn’t show my Congressional Representatives race. (I’m in District 14, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is pretty much the only candidate I’m excited about. Speaking of Democratic Socialists, take a quiz to find out if you’re a Democratic Socialist. I am, 6 for 6.)

Then I visited WhosOntheBallot.org. This showed more information, including local offices and measures. But it’s clunky, with too many expand/collapse options, and hard to read, with pertinent info hidden in rollover windows. A description of a citywide proposal to improve civic engagement was missing. (The irony!)

I printed the page out to use as a voter guide. It came to four pages. Of all the apps that exist in the world, why can’t a simple voter guide, that shows my ballot and my selections based on accurate and brief info, be one of them?

Googling “NYC Voter Guide,” I ended up viewing voting guides for the primaries.

What I actually want—and it took me time to find it—is this: the NYC Campaign Finance Board’s 2018 State General Election Voter Guide. (Yet it’s still incomplete—sitting US Senator Kristin Gillibrand has no photo, no statement!?)

And, this guide shows all the districts. There’s no tool for seeing just the candidates in your district. To find out your district, you have to non-intuitively click on “Poll Site Locator,” which takes you to a design-challenged interface, where you enter your address and get your numbers soup of seven different districts. I had to cross-reference Assembly Member on one page with my Assembly District from another page. After all that, there’s only one person running and no info is posted about her.

Also, according to WhosOntheBallot, I can vote for Supreme Court Justices in Queens, but they’re not listed in NYC CFB’s website. I’ve probably spent about two hours researching, and still don’t have any clue about these Supreme Court Justices. Ballotopedia.com lists biographical info but doesn’t say anything about these justice’s opinions or why I should vote for one rather than another.

You can see why this is frustrating and ineffectual.


A note about voter disenfranchisement

Chart showing dramatically higher voter turnout in presidential years (60% in 2016) versus midterms (37% in 2016) since 1950.

From “Everything You Need to Know for the Midterm Elections,” NY Times, October 2, 2018.

It’s too difficult to get information about voting, and too difficult to vote. And I’m fluent in English, educated, and have the leisure time to do this research.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t able to vote this year. When I showed up to vote in the primaries, I learned that I wasn’t registered Democrat, and therefore, I could only vote for candidates I wasn’t interested in, so I didn’t vote. (I’ve registered Democrat since then, however with mild distaste.)

This midterms election may be the most important midterm election in my memory. It’s frightening how such a small fraction of the populous can determine so much of the next four years. Despite my griping about how inaccessible information is, please vote!


A note about electoral politics

Your vote matters.

Your vote is your voice.

(But your voice is not only your vote.)

 

 

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Grace Lee Boggs with Scott Kurashige, The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activisim for the 21st Century
Art & Development, Citizenship

Points of Reference (or Orientation)

Navigating art and activism, and the necessity of both.


Art seasons are a real phenomenon, and I’ve been racing to keep up with this one. I’ve been extra busy since mid-August, working my seasonal, full-time museum job, and preparing for three group shows opening this month—not to mention falling sick for a week. M called me “Pigpen,” the messy Peanuts character, and I couldn’t argue with that. I kept it pretty together in art, by sacrificing in life, like housekeeping.

Messy desk

This pretty much sums it up.

I have a lot of thoughts I haven’t been able to process. Like all the crap on my desk, I’m throwing everything down to sort out, at least into little piles for now.


Adapting Aptitudes

A few things happen over the course of a changeover at my seasonal museum job. I lose fitness and get sore in my knees and back. I become unusually extroverted, even starting conversations with strangers outside of work. I’m sharper and faster working with my hands, but a bit slower intellectually. It’s harder to recall artists’ names or to talk critically about art. It’s weird observing how quickly you adapt to your environments.


A Bit of Orientation

Something I wrote resonated with curator Susannah Magers. She quoted me in her curatorial statement for Political Birthdays (on view now through November 3 at Dream Farm Commons in Oakland, CA):

“My courage as an artist is low right now. The news is so overwhelming part of me just wants to turtle up. I’m not sure what the right track is, but I know when it feels right. … In lieu of a clear direction, I’ll take a bit of orientation.”

The past two weeks have provided countless reasons to want to turtle up and avoid the onslaught of bad news and injustice.

Sometimes a good strategy is just to keep moving. Susannah wrote:

The exhibition is one such offering—an orientation, in response to the aforementioned quote by participating artist Christine Wong Yap—that emphasizes visibility, agency, and collaboration as resources, sites of inquiry, and tools.

There can’t be too many reminders to shift focus from dumpster fires back our own sources of power. What can we do to see and be seen? What can we do with our resources, networks, and skills? In this time that feels so alienating, disempowering, and dispiriting, how do we provide the sense of community and solidarity to ourselves and each other?


Politics and Projects

The projects I’m working on right now relate to inclusion, amplifying voices, and belonging. They’re not expressly about civic engagement or advocacy. Partly that’s because I’m invested in psychological wellbeing, which I see as an expression of freedom, dignity, and agency.

Two of the three shows I’m in directly address activism and the midterm elections. The organizers invited me to supplement my project with ideas for taking action or performative events to encourage activism. At the pace I’ve been moving, I didn’t have the time or brainpower to come up with many ideas. But I have been thinking about how I have—or haven’t—been politically engaged.


Activism Is Not Easy

Given this recent emphasis on activism, I have been thinking about a post I wrote two years ago, “Resources for Becoming an Activist.” I’ve been feeling guilty that I haven’t taken more of my own advice and been more active.

I connected with many local social justice orgs at the Forward Union Fair in 2017. I signed up for tons of mailing lists. Aside from calling representatives, few opportunities to get involved or contribute my art skills presented themselves. I joined an group of artist-allies for an immigrant rights org, but logistics—timing, geography, my schedule—have prevented me from pitching in much. When I did contribute a postcard design, I never heard anything back from the point person.

I’ve had tunnel vision for the past two months thanks to my projects and shows, but I’ll try again in the coming months.

Yesterday, I signed up for a monthlong printshop studio rental. I’m thinking about printing more posters, like the one I printed the day after the election. This is something I can do that activates my skills and resources.


WAGENCY

One thing that artists can do to take action is to join WAGENCY. If you haven’t seen it, read my Instagram post about why I signed up, and why I encourage other artists to become WAGENTS, too.


Belonging on Stolen Land

Yesterday was Indigenous People’s Day. I spent the day letterpress-printing Belonging activity sheets.

In 2016, I developed my Belonging project, using open calls and workshops to ask people about how they feel about belonging, and where they have felt belonging. I asked countless people to participate and invite others. I shaped my approach with inquiry and openness. I protracted the period of research and dialogue, even though it was stressful for me to delay production. I thought I limited my agenda and perspective in the final signs and zine in order to highlight participants’ voices.

An hour before the opening of Belonging in Albuquerque, I received feedback that indigenous people may not appreciate the message that “we all belong here” on colonized land. Anytime anyone thoughtfully offers honest, critical feedback, it’s valuable, though the timing of the message was a challenge for me.

On Monday, curator Adriel Luis posted a reflection about the struggling with the paradox of immigrant and indigenous perspectives:

As an American I recognize that I live on occupied land. Coming from a family of immigrants, it’s a constant struggle to find balance between insisting that we have a right to be here, while at the same time acknowledging that we really don’t. The past couple of years I’ve had the honor of learning what it means to be welcomed here as a guest…I can tell you it feels so much better than barging your way into somewhere! Still, it’s a learning process to understand how I continue to contribute to the legacy of how this land was stolen.

I’m also trying to evolve my understanding of belonging, by considering Brené Brown’s writing: belonging is not merely being embraced by others—true belonging is actually the courage to stand alone in the wilderness. What that means for future iterations of the project is that belonging should not be limited to places; belonging can be something you carry with you.


Jeff Chang on Art and Race

Probably the best thing to help orient me right now in this moment before the midterm elections is this: historian Jeff Chang’s keynote speech at the Art and Race Conference at the Impact Hub in Oakland (H/T the Making Contact podcast episode, “Jeff Chang on Revolutions in Seeing and Being”).

In this moment, privilege shows up as disengagement, the refusal to take a stand, and the refusal to show up.

As in, ‘I refuse to see how anti-black racism gives me privilege.’ As in, ‘I refuse to see the inhumanity that leaves so many homeless and unsheltered.’ As in, ‘I refuse to see the humanity of the refugee or the migrant.’ As in, ‘I refuse to acknowledge the ways that state violence is inflicted on black bodies, on women’s bodies, on queer bodies, on Muslim bodies, on poor bodies…

Privilege is the choice to isolate, to draw the line, to build the wall. To say that all that matters is my solitary sovereignty, and what I can accumulate before death claims me. As artists, as people in community, we have to choose, in this moment. …

 

We believe in art because we believe in life, in all its variations, in all of its beauty. We’re here because we also believe the ugliness—the violence of inhumanity—can be transformed. We’re here today because we believe art and culture change things. That cultural change might even precede—might even make—political change. …

 

Racism is drawn from a specific kind of refusal. It’s a denial of empathy. It’s a mass-willed blindness. … Inequity shows up in three ways: in representation, in access, in power… Here’s where art may become a remedy… In its mimicry of life, great art helps to close the distance between the self and other; it helps us to come together….

…The movement for black lives has reminded us that the way out of this historical cycle of crisis is to begin to see each other in our full humanity. To find and feel that we are all connected. To move beyond empathy to action. Empathy is empty without action.

Jeff goes on to talk about what it means to not make art nor to engage culture, by exploring technocrats’ luxury apocalypse bunkers.

Perhaps the saddest thing is what this way of thinking reveals about them. They find it so hard to imagine generosity, they can’t see it at all in the world. So that’s probably what is meant when folks say, ‘It’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.’

 

Art … inflames the imagination. And we need the imagination in order to see through and past our blindnesses. Gotta be able to see each other, imagine what we can do together to increase representation, access, and power. This is the real beginning of transformation and community.

…Grace Lee Boggs… argued that revolution is not—as we think of it—something to be won in bloodshed, in which there’s a replacing of one group in power with another group in power. She said that the next revolution might be better thought of as advancing humankind to a new stage of consciousness, creativity, and social and political responsibility. Her revolution will require us to find new ways other than to divide and rule, to consign some to death and instead pivot all of us towards life, to honor and transform our relationships to each other and ourselves. She insists that we rethink how we see each other, how we choose to be, and how to be together. So we have to move beyond empathy towards mutuality. Beyond relationships that are about exploitation and extraction, towards relationships that are about exchange, support, generosity, and trust. That we start from truly seeing each other and move towards acting for each other. Past resistance and into transformation.


Point of Orientation: Grace Lee Boggs

Thanks to Jeff’s orientation, I’ve ordered this book. (From an independent bookstore, obvs.)

Grace Lee Boggs with Scott Kurashige, The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activisim for the 21st Century


In the same vein as moving from resistance towards transformation, I’d rather be for positive emotion and affirmation, and than to promulgate negative emotion and opposition.

It is the deforming nature of anger to blur the boundary between unjustified and justified; if it weren’t, only the righteous would ever be angry. Instead, rage is most often forsworn by those who seem most entitled to it, and civility is demanded by those who least deserve it.

…Anger is an avaricious emotion; it takes more credit than it deserves. Attempts to make it into a political virtue too often attribute to anger victories that rightfully belong to courage, patience, intelligence, persistence, or love.

Casey Cep, “The Perils and Possibilities of Anger,” New Yorker Magazine, October 15, 2018

 

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3 Flags by 3 artists

Revised US Flag by Maya Misra. Cunt Quilt by Coralina Rodriguez Meyer. Artist’s Arm by Jevijoe Vitug. // Source: ChristinaFreeman.net

While I like Creative Time’s Pledges of Allegiance artist-designed flag project, it seemed like a missed opportunity to not include more emerging artists. Air Rights, a project flying artist-designed flags curated by Christina Freeman at Flux Factory, is just the right antidote. The artists were less well-known. The flags were weirder. And it was in Queens.

Sights

See: Air Rights @ Flux Factory, Queens

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