1. Naotaka Hiro at The Box

In Naotaka Hiro’s new solo exhibition downtown at The Box, the artist presents his largest work to date (a painting on canvas called The Swimmer). Hiro has a unique process of setting physical limitations for himself as he works — in this case, physically wrapping himself within the canvas while painting on its surface. At this large scale, that meant that Hiro physically wrestled his material, almost drowning within it; the marks on its surface evidence of this bodily struggle. This raw bodily experimentation is felt throughout the exhibition — though many of the works are abstract, their surfaces expose the taxing process from which they are born — haptic marks, chiseled dots, and scratchy lines point to the body’s hand under duress. 

In the back gallery are two video works from early in Hiro’s career as an artist, and in each, we see the artist’s experimentations with duration and bodily limits firsthand (in one, the artist dons a mask covered in abject strands of hair with only his puckered lips exposed). While Hiro’s work has shifted towards painting, drawing, and sculptures since these early experiments, they provide a captivating insight into the artist’s physical process and the private performances that go into the making of every piece within his studio walls.

On view: June 1–July 27, 2024 | Open map

2. Winfred Rembert at Hauser & Wirth

Winfred Rembert didn’t make art until he was in his 50s, yet once he did, stories from his past poured out of him. His wife had urged him to make artwork as a way to share and process his story — the artist not only worked on a sharecropping field in Georgia in the 1950s but also worked on a prison chain gang in the 60s and 70s. 

His current show at Hauser & Wirth highlights the artist’s unique process of tooling and painting leather to create vivid tableaus. Experiences from his prison days are represented in his Chain Gang series, in which men in striped uniforms work in unison, their bodies and striped garb swirling into a rhythmic — almost Op Art — patterning. 

Another series depicts laborers in cotton fields, working side by side — here Rembert translates these traumatic first-hand experiences into stunning visual interpretations. His figures are rendered in detail, agile and dancerly, almost like Matisse’s dancers. This exhibition moves beyond simply depicting America’s troubling past, it also investigates the healing power of art: to communicate, to process, and to make beauty out of darkness.  

On view: May 30–August 25, 2024 | Open Map

3. John Lupe at SADE

Dever-based artist John Lupe’s solo show at SADE delights in small details. An impressive body of assemblage art fills the gallery, hung in a dense salon style. Across the work, knick-knacks mingle with paintings by Lupe, small drawings his children have made, personal mementos, and a broad array of found objects (many found when he was en route home from his day job at the Denver Art Museum). Lupe’s compositions are funny, sincere, whimsical, and deeply personal — they feel like containers in which anything and everything might find its place. 

The Last Stand features a pair of prayer hands surrounded by minuscule bits of thread, lint, feathers, and an errant pistachio shell. Small pieces of thread are arranged to spell “LOVE” in a couple of places; a smiley face is made with a clasp and a paper scrap. Notes from the artist in the gallery’s checklist reveal that the material in this work is in fact “floor sweepings” from his parent’s last home together, swept up as they were moving out. As such, Lupe’s work reassembles the detritus of our lives into cosmic compositions that make even the smallest piece of thread feel dignified and vital.

On view: June 15–July 7, 2024| Open Map

Making My Own Road

Naotaka Hiro often creates rules for himself in the studio as he is working — like constraining limbs with rope as he draws or setting timers to create limits to how long he works on a various step of his process. In a conversation I had with him for The Carla Podcast, he told me, “I have all these rules, but this is just for myself. I like to intentionally set those limitations and obstacles during the productions. They will naturally cause delay and reroute practices, but those introducing those unfamiliar rules are kind of forcing me to reevaluate my familiar process.” 

Hiro often embraces failure within his practice, pushing himself into new limitations. “I make my own road and I break the rules and then it’s just a framework for my awareness and consciousness,” he says. “It’s like a borderline when I work.” Listen to the whole conversation here.