In vibrant patchworks of woven patterns and fuzzy fiber ends, Sarah Zapata’s sculptures (previously) emerge as wall-hung tapestries, standalone pieces, and forest-like installations. Through the convergence of architectural structures, soft textiles, and myriad patterns and textures, her site-specific works examine the nature of layered identities shaped by her Peruvian heritage, queerness, her Evangelical upbringing in South Texas, and her current home in New York.
Zapata balances time-honored craft practices with contemporary applications, highlighting the significance of Indigenous Peruvian weaving, for example, as a means of communication. Symbols and patterns composed into cloth traditionally provided a means of sharing knowledge and cosmological beliefs.
Installation view of ‘Beneath the Breath of the Sun’ (2024) at ASU Art Museum, Tempe, Arizona. Commissioned by CALA Alliance
In abstract sculptures that often merge with their surroundings, Zapata incorporates unexpected and vibrant color combinations with woven fabrics and tufted textures. Resisting easy categorization, her pieces are neither functional nor purely decorative, although they play with facets of both.
Zapata consciously holds back from creating work that is too “beautiful,” inviting a remarkable, tactile exploration of relationships between craft, lineage, community, and memory.
Some of the works shown here are included in Support Structures at Sargent’s Daughters, which continues through through May 3. Find more on Zapata’s website and Instagram.
“How often they move between the planets” (2022), handwoven cloth, natural and synthetic fiber, 144 x 60 inchesDetail of “How often they move between the planets”“Part of the tension (from earthen pits) I” (2024), handwoven cloth, natural and synthetic fiber, and hand coiled rope, 49 x 14 x 14 inchesInstallation view of ‘To strange ground and high places,’ Galleria Poggiali, Milan. Photo by Michele Alberto Sereni“Towards and ominous time III” (2022), handwoven cloth, natural and synthetic fiber, 144 x 60 inchesInstallation view of ‘To strange ground and high places,’ Galleria Poggiali, Milan. Photo by Michele Alberto SereniDetail of “Part of the tension (from earthen pits) II”
During a trip to Lagos in 2015, Karl Ohiri noticed something alarming. The British-Nigerian artist observed how long-running photography studios in the city were destroying their archives—sometimes incidentally, sometimes purposely—as they shuttered or moved out of the city into quieter village settings. And as a generation of photographers shifted to digital methods, film began to literally disappear.
Ohiri was moved to remedy this phenomenon, so he struck up relationships with local photographers and began acquiring endangered negatives “in an attempt to ensure that this precious cultural heritage was not lost over time,” he says in a statement. The Lagos Studio Archives project was born.
“The initiative’s main aims are to collect, preserve, and present the imagery of a generation of photographers that captured the style, humour, and aspirations of everyday Lagosians,” a statement says. Its mission revolves around spotlighting otherwise hidden narratives in one of Africa’s biggest hubs, “whilst further expanding dialogues around West African photography, culture, and the legacies of the diaspora.”
Ohiri, along with his partner, Finnish-British artist Riikka Kassinen, conceive of Lagos Studio Archives as a means of preserving and showcasing the wealth of history, culture, style, and daily life in Nigeria’s former capital. Formally organized in 2016, the archive has developed and exhibited images internationally at venues like the Museum of Modern Art in New York and South London Gallery
“The project was initiated out of a growing concern that on a long enough timeline, a void would be created where large sections of Lagosian history would be lost and unable to be retrieved,” Ohiri and Kassinen say. “This vacuum could lead to gaps in representation within mainstream Nigerian culture that could have serious repercussions for present and future generations of Nigerians trying to gain a deeper understanding of their heritage and culture.”
To date, the archive houses negatives saved from more than twenty studios, consisting of thousands of images. “Through conversations with photographers from the analogue era, the project has engaged in dialogues that explore the importance of preserving photographic archives as an integral part of shaping collective identity,” the artists say.
Anonymous, “Untitled, Lagos” from the series ‘Archive of Becoming’ (c. 1990s)
Currently based in Helsinki, Ohiri and Kassinen’s individual practices explore relationships between lived experiences within contemporary society and socially engaged dialogues around heritage and culture. As the pair develop images in the collection, distinct series and themes organically emerge.
The color images shown here are part of an initiative titled Archive of Becoming, which focuses on deteriorated negatives, primarily of studio portraits. As a result of humidity, mold, heat, and other elements, the photos develop with psychedelic colors, dissolved emulsion, and blank areas.
Karl Ohiri / Riikka Kassinen, “John Abe
and Funmilayo Abe, Alagbado, Lagos” (2024)
“By resurrecting these images from negatives and displaying them in their new context, the works speak of the sad state of some of the negatives,” the duo says. “However, it also talks about a certain beauty that can be found in decay that expresses the passing of time and the unpredictable life of images.”
Another body of work focuses on a husband-and-wife team who ran Abi Morocco Photos, which operated between the 1970s and 2006. The studio captured a wide array of fashionable portraits in black-and-white that celebrate myriad nearly-lost visual narratives of Lagos around the turn of the 21st century.
Ohiri and Kassinen describe the archive as an intersection between an artist-run project and a social entity, centered around the “idea of collective responsibility in preserving heritage and culture as a form of activism that starts with the individual.” Explore much more on Instagram, where you can follow updates about exhibitions, newly developed photos, and a forthcoming book focused on the work of Abi Morocco Photos. (via WePresent)
From dozens of Chiquita banana labels to toothpaste packaging to color-coded quality control stickers, Kelly Kozma finds beauty in everyday ephemera. “Piece by piece, she saves any colorful or textured box that she encounters, even though most are expected to be discarded after their original use,” says Paradigm Gallery + Studio, which opens the artist’s solo exhibition Watch Me Backflip this weekend.
Kozma takes an archival and interdisciplinary approach to working with numerous found materials, combining a variety of media into two-dimensional wall works, expansive textile-inspired assemblages, and voluminous suspended installations. “Watch Me Backflip embraces ideas of reusing material, interconnectedness, and the significance of the smallest interaction on a much larger environment,” says an exhibition statement.
Installation view of ‘Watch Me Backflip’ at Paradigm Gallery + Studio
“Iguana & Myrrh” and “Magma & Reef” mark the largest compositions Kozma has created. The former spans 22 feet in circumference and comprises more than 30,000 hand-stitched circles cut from a wide variety of greeting cards, found packaging, and other colorful materials. Committed to a minimal-waste practice, the artist incorporates scraps and loose threads into a number of accompanying works in Watch Me Backflip.
“As she stitches these lovingly collected pieces, Kozma creates connections between the people in her life and the objects she interacts with, inspiring mindfulness against overconsumption and emotional apathy,” the gallery says.
Watch Me Backflip opens today and continues through June 1 in Philadelphia. See more on the artist’s Instagram.
“I See Your Beauty” (2025), process control patches and acrylic on panelInstallation view of ‘Watch Me Backflip’ at Paradigm Gallery + StudioDetail of “Iguana & Myrrh”Installation view of ‘Watch Me Backflip’ at Paradigm Gallery + Studio“Peels So Good” (2025), banana stickers and acrylic on panelDetail of “Iguana & Myrrh”The artist working on the installation of “Magma & Reef”
Upwards of 17 million commercial flights ferry passengers across U.S. airspace each year. (It’s more than twice that, in total, worldwide.) Those hundreds of thousands of vessels share the sky with winged things that have been around way, way longer than airliners, but it’s not always an easy relationship. Through the work of people like Norman Smith at Boston’s primary international terminal, we’re learning more every day about a remarkable species and their evolving ways of life.
“The Snowy Owls of Logan Airport” is a short documentary about Smith’s extraordinary work managing unexpected avian residents. Created by Anna Miller, who also runs The Animalia Podcast, the film highlights the unique migration patterns of the largest owls in North America and why they flock from the Arctic to such an unlikely destination every winter.
Smith has been working with snowy owls at Logan Airport since 1981. “They fly 3,000 miles just to get here,” he says. “We don’t know why they come down to the Boston area. Logan Airport has the highest concentration of snowy owls in the Northeast that we know of.”
The birds’ choice to land at a busy transportation hub might not be as surprising as you’d think at first. It comprises 1,800 acres of open fields, which resemble something like the tundra they call home farther north, full of rats and mice to eat. And on three sides, water provides another ample source of food. It might be loud, but they don’t seem to lose a wink.
Programs like the one at Logan Airport have been in place for decades following tragic incidents in which jet engines ingested birds, causing the planes to crash. One particular event in 1960 in Boston prompted airports around the nation to implement programs that managed bird populations, especially roosting areas, around active airfields. And while shooting avian species has historically been one method of removal, Smith is committed to a much more humane solution: moving them to safety elsewhere.
Snowy owls are considered “vulnerable” to extinction, and their populations are dwindling as the effects of the climate crisis continue to impact habitats in the Arctic. While it’s harder to predict what will happen in the coming years, Smith is dedicated to giving the birds he encounters the best chance of survival.
So far, he has single-handedly relocated more than 900 animals, been instrumental in implementing similar programs across the U.S., and hopes his passion for conservation and the urgent need to save these incredible creatures will influence future generations to do the same. (via Kottke)
Manda Quevedo is a queer nonbinary Latinx photographer, bookmaker, and fine art printer. Their book, Love Letter To Death Match, explores the captivating world of deathmatch wrestling. For Manda, the wrestling community intersects in many ways with the queer community, as well as the punk music scene and performance art, go-go and burlesque dancing:
“It’s my favorite place to be. I love capturing the main action-packed moments, along with quieter and brief fleeting moments of beauty within these performances.”
Manda Quevedo was selected as one of the winners of our previous Art & Photo Book Awards! With support from Bookmobile, we helped turn their series into a book. See more from Love Letter To Death Match below along with our interview with Manda!
American photographer Shane Rocheleau contemplates his home of Lakeside, Virginia in the wake of November 9, 2016. While the election results were shocking at the time, Rocheleau also found a lot of things that made sense, especially considering how many people there were “merely treading water,” unable to separate the American Dream from its oppugnant reality. Rocheleau draws parallels between the Red-bellied Woodpecker (a native species) and the invasive European Starling:
“Under the patchy lawns of Lakeside, there lies a pre-colonial “Oughnum”, or “good hunting land” in the indigenous Algonquian dialect…. In early Spring one year, my family and I watched a pair of Red-bellied Woodpeckers bore a nest for their clutch at the rotting end of a shorn bow. They did their work several paces from where we sat each afternoon. Eventually, the excavating stopped and the female settled in. We joyfully awaited little chirps. One morning, we found two eggs broken beneath the nest and another unbroken at the center of the yard. In an Orwellian nod to Manifest Destiny, European Starlings had raided the nest and made it their own.”
For Rocheleau, Lakeside is representative of countless spaces built to feign American exceptionalism–“a place with 11,000 human beings doing the best they can, ugly and beautiful things alike, while drowning in the reality that dreaming yields far less than its promise.”
Images from a limited-edition photo book by Australian photographer Nick Bannehr (previously featured here). “Real Football” documents the chaotic medieval football match played each Good Friday in the English village of Chiddingstone. With 200 players on each team, no formal rules, and goals over a mile apart, the four-hour game unfolds across fields, roads, and rivers in a spectacle of endurance, tradition, and community pride.
“The tone of the work emerged naturally. I didn’t want to be a bystander—I ran with the players, chased the ball through muddy paddocks and over stone fences. At one point I even had to push the ball aside to avoid becoming part of the game. I wanted to sit in the energy source and point my camera at it as it simmered around me.”
The book launches at 6pm today at Between Lines in Newtown, Sydney, Australia.
It’s hard to imagine a welcome mat being rolled out at the entrance to a Secret Service compound, let alone a table for two perched atop a diving platform in the middle of winter. But for Frank Kunert, these unsettling scenarios happen practically every day, albeit on a very small scale.
Kunert’s photographs (previously) capture a range of structures and interiors that for myriad reasons, feel just a little bit “off.” Whether it’s a racetrack’s snack stand interrupting one of the running lanes, a solo dining table stuck out in the snow, or an idyllic yet impossibly narrow apartment complex, the artist’s hand-built miniature sets explore where familiarity and the uncanny meet.
Tapping into the absurdities of everyday life, Kunert plays with architecture, quotidian objects, customs, and our associations with home or public spaces. His elaborate models appear realistic enough at first glance, but upon closer inspection, we notice things that challenge our sense of scale and material, like chalk lines on a racetrack or powdered sugar-like snow.
Kunert meticulously designs the lighting, furniture, wall coverings, and outdoor settings to give the impression of a reality turned sideways—sometimes literally. His compositions possess a dark, ironic undertone, prompting us to pause and suspect, for example, whether what’s on the other side of the nondescript door labeled “FUN” is actually as advertised. People are never present, but we can imagine customers having just left a restaurant or a homeowner sitting just inside a closed door.
Kunert is currently working on a series titled Dreams Come True, some images from which are shown here, which will be compiled in a book or exhibitions down the line. And later this month, Hatje Cantz releases a new monograph, The Best of Frank Kunert, now available for pre-order. Explore more on the artist’s website and Instagram.
Roaming the metaphysical spaces between dreams and reality, Eli McMullen draws on the familiarity of suburban and wooded landscapes to bid us into dreamlike worlds. Plumbing the interplay of perception and imagination, his acrylic paintings invite us into moments of wonder and transcendence.
The Richmond, Virginia-based artist’s forthcoming solo exhibition, Sleep Walk at Thinkspace Projects, explores relationships between nostalgia, spirituality, nature, and psychological phenomena. He celebrates “fleeting moments that feel suspended in time, glimmers that quietly urge to be searched,” the gallery says.
Sleep Walk welcomes viewers into nighttime forest scenes that glow with geometric light forms, altar-like architecture, and prismatic reflections. Titles like “Desire Path Finder,” “Liminal Bridge,” and “Kismet Gateway” highlight the essence of links, portals, metamorphoses, and in-between spaces.
The show runs May 3 to 24 in Los Angeles. See more on McMullen’s website and Instagram.
“Dream Weaver” (2025), acrylic on panel, 20 × 24 inches“Embers Rest” (2025), acrylic on panel, 18 × 24 inches“Draped Shrine” (2025), acrylic on panel, 11 × 14 inches“Liminal Bridge” (2025), acrylic on panel, 16 × 20 inches“Fractal Grove” (2025), acrylic on panel, 11 × 14 inches“Kismet Gateway” (2025), acrylic on panel, 16 × 20 inches
“Barry McGee lives in San Francisco—he was born there and he lives there,” critic and curator Richard Leydier opens in an essay accompanying the artist’s current solo exhibition, I’m Listening, at Perrotin. “This fact is important because his art would be profoundly different had he chosen to move to another American city.”
McGee draws inspiration from the West Coast subculture he grew up within, surrounded by skaters, surfers, and street artists. He has long been interested in marginalized communities, societal outcasts, and those seen as subversive.
The artist is a key figure of the Mission School, which emerged in the early 1990s through the work of a number of artists who were connected to the now-defunct San Francisco Art Institute. Other influential artists include Margaret Kilgallen (1967-2001), Ruby Neri, Claire Rojas, and more, all of whom explore the intersections between urban realism, graffiti, American folk art, and “lowbrow” aesthetics undergirded by social activism.
McGee adopted monikers like “Twist” and “Lydia Fong” in his own graffiti writing and also explored painting and printmaking, which he still taps into in his expansive, multidisciplinary practice. He explores “dynamic panel assemblages, complex patterns reminiscent of op art, and immersive installations that explore the human condition,” the gallery says.
I’m Listening erupts with color, pattern, and texture through a bounty of sculptures, paintings, prints, and assemblages that reimagine everyday objects. Surfboards are cloaked in optical geometric patterns in acrylic paint, and McGee’s signature grimacing, cartoonish faces appear on collages or in place of labels on glass bottles.
“I focus on everything that is shitty on our little planet right now,” McGee says. Expressions of disgust or surprise are paired with playfulness, though. He adds, “I also celebrate all these incredible things that humans invent to stay positive and healthy.” I’m Listening continues through May 24 in Paris.
