Manning the sleepy desk at the Plaza Galeria space where her first solo show, Innercapes hangs, Sarah Nolan is used to low foot traffic. “It’s mostly tourists and sandwich lovers,” she says, referencing the nearby Subway.
Continuing the lo-fi aesthetic of their latest exhibit, CutGlueFold, Axle Contemporary presents The Flatfile Show, a paper-driven curatorial experiment that shines a spotlight on the most basic of mediums.
According to SWAIA Executive Director Bruce Bernstein
who took to the Plaza's Buffalo Thunder stage on Sunday afternoon, the
event cost $1.5M to stage, and generates a collected income of $18M—or 12% of the City Different's annual revenue.
One step inside Stan Natchez’ gallery and it’s clear he’s not your conventional Native artist. “I paint to understand the world that surrounds me,” he says, as he
swiftly applies gold leaf to an 8-foot-tall painting depicting Sioux
warrior Lone Wolf.
“I’m a beadworker first. If you want to call me an artist, that’s fine,”
Greeves says modestly, even though one of her pieces—a pair of beaded
Converse high-tops—resides in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the
’Twas four months before Christmas, and all through the town, holiday
cheer was nonexistent, which made me feel down. Suddenly, out by the
office dumpster, there arose such a clatter that staff writer Justin
Horwath and I arose to see what was the matter. Then what to our
wondering eyes should appear, but a fake Christmas tree—seven feet
tall—with lights, a star, ornaments and all.
As witnessed in his latest show, An American Knockoff, seasoned artist Roger Shimomura’s work walks the line between political statement and absurdity. A product, he says, that spawns from spending his formative years trying to find a sense of place.
The first thing you notice upon entering Ben Haggard’s Second Street studio is a desk that’s seen better days, lined in freezer paper and covered with globs of colorful acrylic paint. “I call it my disposable palette,” Haggard says.
Don’t let monsoon season throw off your inner thermostat—summer is here, and with it, the opportunity to indulge in something cold, slushy and sweet. Some of my best childhood memories revolve around such seasonal delicacies: my grade school bus driver La Güera (“the blond one”) treating all her passengers to a paleta come the last day of school and endless adventures with Big Sticks that would progressively rob me of my gag reflex (a trait that would come in handy later in life)