Her earliest memory was not of human faces, the touch of a parent, or even the plush hand of a doll. No, her first memory of the material world would be that of a doorway. A doorway which, upon the sunlight striking its stained-glass ornamentation as her infant bundle was…

Act I — 12:08 pm Like visiting a museum gallery on a weekday morning or a cemetery in the off-season, only those most loyal, most spurred with sudden agitation cut through the garbage-pimpled alleyways, past hungry crowds collecting around cafe doors and impatient dogs waiting outside grocery stories, to surrender…

From crumpled receipts and printer copies to letters left in mailboxes, paper is a material in a perpetual state of alchemy, becoming vessels for individual and collective communication, maps of memory, transmutable records of histories. …

In her first solo exhibition at Jack Hanley Gallery, Maia Ruth Lee disrupts the stereotypical assumption that each woman will eventually have to decide between a career or a child through an unexpected system of geopolitical talismans. The quasi-readymade design of Lee’s strewn bundles—kaleidoscopic medleys of plastic tarp, burlap, boxes…

“She said people tried to be good, but they are really sick and rotten–her most of all. And every time she tried to make the world a better place something terrible came up inside her and pulled her back down to hell and took her deeper and deeper into the…

If you’re not paying attention, you’ll miss it — a glimpse of color between the old-fashion brick arches of the abandoned Gloucester Road Station platform as you’re on your morning commute. If your train slowed down as you passed, you’d be struck by the strange sight outside your window as…